Don’t Splash, Don’t Run, Don’t Look Delicious

Reprinted with permission of LeCarta.com, a map and surf story project developed by Surf Science Institute of Earth.

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Watching a pelican or an osprey dive and harvest a fish is one of surfing’s most interesting sights. The fish don’t see it that way. They never see it coming…

Surfers have a whole catalog of animal-attack advice — play dead with bears, act big for mountain lions, run zigzags for alligators. None of that helps on Isla Nublar. The breakers here are clean, emerald blue, and framed by jungles that make Fiji look like a strip mall. But the real problem is that the local wildlife does not follow the usual rules.

We paddled out at a right that wraps around a basalt point like a juiced-up version of Restaurants — fast, hollow, gorgeous. But every conversation in the lineup came back to the same thing: “So… what exactly are we supposed to do if a dinosaur charges us?”

The first debate was raptors. Somebody suggested “acting big.” Someone else pointed out that raptors are big.

“So… run?”

“You can’t outrun a raptor.”

“Well maybe zigzag—”

“They zigzag faster.”

“So what?”

A long pause.

“Make it someone else’s problem?”

A set rolled through — overhead, glassy, perfect. One guy stroked in, dropped out of sight behind the lip, and came flying out of the barrel hooting like he’d survived Teahupoʻo on wings. For a moment, we forgot everything.

Then a distant roar shook the tree line and every bird within three miles exploded into the sky at once.

New debate.

T-rex strategy:
Play dead? “Absolutely not.”

Act big? “If you act big at a T-rex, you die big.”

Run? “It sees motion, bro. That’s literally its whole thing.”

Someone floated the idea of paddling very slowly, like we weren’t food.

Someone else suggested we spread out so only the slowest guy gets eaten — classic lineup etiquette.

The left, Nedry’s Cove, broke like a windy Macaronis — gorgeous but sketchy. Halfway down a flawless wall, I saw a shadow pass overhead. Not a cloud. Not a bird. A huge, silent glide. A prehistoric silhouette banking lazily, choosing targets like a Costco shopper.

By then we’d all realized the ocean was the safest place on the island. Which is absurd, given the sharks. Which we also debated.

“Sharks we pretend to know how to handle,” someone shrugged.

“Yeah but Isla Nublar sharks have… what… dinosaur DNA?”

“…Probably.”

“Does that make them more shark or more dinosaur?”

“Neither answer is calming.”

A perfect set pulsed in, and for a few minutes we forgot everything again — world-class reefs, warm tropical water, barrels you’d trade internal organs for. Isla Nublar surf is that good: the kind that makes you risky, stupid, and euphoric.

But when the jungle rumbled again, everyone paused mid-paddle, listening like prey animals who know they’re not the top of the food chain.

Here’s the thing about surfing Isla Nublar: You never figure out the right survival strategy.

There is no right answer.

There is only: Catch the wave, savor the ride, and hope whatever’s hunting you today is already full.

Source: https://lecarta.com/surfspot/dont-splash-dont-run-dont-look-delicious/