Hope helps Surf Bus grow

Matthew Espy halts near ocean's edge, plants both feet in the sand, crosses his arms, furrows his brow, and refuses to proceed one step closer.

Friends skipping merrily into the shallows urge him to follow. "Come on, Matthew!"

Adults rest reassuring palms on his shoulders. "There's nothing to worry about," they promise.

But the 9-year-old is steadfast, deep in thought, tapping his foot, touching his chin, and within a moment formulates a fib he believes will exonerate him as a coward.

"It's my parents," he says. "They told me not to go in the water, so I just can't. "

But on this sunny Santa Monica morning, Matthew can and will venture into the churning surf.

He'll meet the breakers head-on and ride first on a bodyboard, then on a surfboard, after which he'll carelessly slip, "I can't wait to tell my parents!"

And his little white lie, like mist from the waves, will waft and vanish as Matthew enjoys the time of his life.

A story about conquering fears?

This is one of those. But it's also a tale that involves tragedy, passion, caring and dedication -- and the transformation of these elements into something positive and profound.

It's a day-in-the-life chronicle of Mary Setterholm, who has, through sheer will and the generosity of others, expanded her L.A. Surf Bus operation from a series of small "one-day specials" into a program that this summer is treating more than 2,000 inner-city kids each week to the thrill of riding waves.

Morning begins with a ride to the South Seas House, a historic community center in the West Adams district of Los Angeles.

En route, Setterholm reveals a personal life that is a perfect storm of turmoil and tumult. She didn't know her father. Her mother was an alcoholic. She was abused by a baby sitter when she was 6; repeatedly by a priest when she was 12, and by a husband she claims stabbed her board with a screwdriver and forbade her to surf after she returned late one afternoon from the beach.

When she was 13, after coming to "hate the name Jesus" and "running away from the faith" because of clergy abuse, which has since been acknowledged by the L.A. Archdiocese, she discovered surfing as "a great escape."

From her West L.A. home she'd pedal her bike and tote her board to the beach every chance she'd get.

Setterholm, now 53 and single, graying but spry and fit, became a national amateur surfing champion at 17. Eight years ago she founded the Surf Academy in Santa Monica, which is the largest surf school in the United States.

Profits from the academy and private donations -- along with endemic support from companies such as Body Glove and Quiksilver -- help fund and equip the nonprofit L.A. Surf Bus operation, which partners with youth groups and the Los Angeles Department of Recreation and Parks.

The program has become so expansive, though, that Setterholm cannot afford to make it through the season. But this has become an annual refrain and somehow she manages.

Last year, for example, eight-time world surfing champion Kelly Slater and friends chipped in with $50,000.

Setterholm, who has a staff of about 60, started this summer $20,000 in debt and says only two-thirds of the $200,000 she'll require to hire buses and drivers is covered.