BOARDS OF PARADISE : Val Surf of North Hollywood Serves as a Refuge for Landlocked Surfers Who Still Fight an Old Stigma Along Southland Beaches

Twenty-four years ago, when Mark Richards opened a surf shop in the middle of landlocked San Fernando Valley, he wasn’t banking on a monster quake rearranging the coastline and laying some tasty waves alongside Ventura Boulevard.

Richards simply recognized a need for an inland surf shop that would supply the necessities to an increasing number of Valley surfers. Then 18 and a surfing fool, Richards was tired of having to drive all the way to the beach for a bar of Bubble Gum Surfing Wax.

“It was silly going that far,” he said. “But we all faced that dilemma. There were no surf shops readily available, nothing in the Valley. It was a big gamble to open one. A lot of people thought I was crazy.”

Although North Hollywood has not exactly become “Surf City, USA,” Richards’ Val Surf has managed to survive longer than most of the tiny shops that came into existence in the early 1960s when the Beach Boys helped spark a surfing craze. In Southern California, Richards says, only Hobie at Dana Point, Con in Santa Monica and Gordy in Huntington Beach have been around longer.

“Huntington Beach was the model for ‘Surf City,’ ” Richards said. “There are more surfers per square inch and more surf shops per square mile there than anywhere. It’s the hub, but it’s still a pit.”

Richards, like a lot of Valley surfers, doesn’t have fond memories of Huntington Beach and other beach communities such as Manhattan Beach and Redondo Beach. It seems that Valley surfers have always been regarded as interlopers and bumpkins by many of the locals.

“To this day,” said Richards, whose shop has always provided a refuge for the Valley outcasts, “Valley surfers still take flak for being inland, although it’s not nearly as bad as it used to be. Back in the ‘60s, we were neophytes and everybody called us kooks. All up and down the coast, surfers who lived at the beach thought they owned it.

“They knew who you were by your license plate or a sticker identifying you with a Valley product. So you’d really hear it in the water. They’d say things like ‘Vals go home.’ Surfing is an extremely crowded sport, so anyone they can eliminate from the water makes it better for them.”

But being a Valley resident, Richards said, is actually a plus for a surfer. When he was in high school, he would have to get up earlier and travel farther than beach kids. In the summer, before the San Diego Freeway was built in 1961, he and his friends would leave North Hollywood a little after 7 a.m., drive down Sepulveda Boulevard and arrive at the beach at 8 for seven or eight hours of shooting the curl.

“It was quite an ordeal, but Valley surfers always had to pay a higher price than most anybody else,” Richards said. “We were hard core and we also became more well-rounded. We were never confined to a certain surf break or wave. We weren’t locked in to Hermosa Beach.

“Because we were from the Valley, we could head up north to Rincon in the winter or go to Tressles in the summer. They

were all the same distance for us. I remember going from Santa Barbara to Newport in one day looking for waves.

“The end result is that the Valley surfer is a more versatile surfer, one who can adapt to different wave conditions, swell directions, beach reefs or point breaks, lefts or rights.”

The Valley surfer, Richards said, is also more respected today than in the past. “The Valley surfer has come of age,” he said. “He’s accepted as being a legitimate surfer.” And one of the big reasons for the acceptance is Willy Morris, a 23-year-old from Woodland Hills who is regarded as the best surfer the Valley has ever produced.

“Some Valley kids were intimidated by beach kids and tried to hide being from the Valley,” Richards said. “Willy would boast about it.”

But not always. “When I was very young, about 12, I stayed away from saying where I was from,” Morris said. “But after my ability started to become recognized, I took it upon myself to have a little bit of pride in the Valley.”

With Morris flaunting his roots, other Valley surfers felt better about themselves. “I think it helped a lot of kids,” said Morris, who is currently making a big splash on the pro tour. “It gave them an identity they didn’t have to feel bad about.”

Mike Majerns of Sherman Oaks appreciates what Morris has done for the image and self-esteem of Valley surfers. “With Willy’s success, the whole scene mellowed out,” said Majerns, 20. “Three years ago, there was a lot of ‘Go home Val kook.’ But it’s gotten a lot better.”

Today, as it was when Richards was growing up, Valley surfers regard Zuma and Malibu as “their” beaches. From North Hollywood, Majerns says, he can get to Malibu in 30 minutes by taking Ventura Freeway to Malibu Canyon, traveling in excess of posted speed limits. When he gets to the Pacific Coast Highway, he hangs a left and parks along a half-mile stretch of prime surf located between Malibu Pier and Malibu Creek.

Despite the quality of its waves, Malibu is getting a bad reputation among surfers. Several times in the past few years, raw sewage has seeped into Santa Monica Bay near Malibu.

“The water is 10 degrees warmer and smells like crap,” said Danny Molnar, an 18-year-old graduate of Grant High. “Malibu is getting ruined.”

The smell notwithstanding, a lot of surfers try to find the perfect ride at Malibu. On an average summer day, a few dozen surfers are bobbing on their boards in a ragged line about the length of a football field. On the beach, sun-worshipping babes on blankets are watching the surfers through Vuarnets, their interest heightening when they hear someone cry, “Surf’s up!” Suddenly, a medium breaker rises from the flat sea and the surf begins to resemble feeding time in a shark cage as surfers jockey for position.

“Malibu is one of the greatest waves in the world,” Richards said, “but it’s also one of the most crowded.”

And it’s getting even more crowded. Although surfing is experiencing only slow growth, boogie boarding is “booming,” said Bill Sharp of Surfing Magazine. Boogie boarders are competing for a share of surf turf with the estimated 1.2 million surfers who live in California. Both groups are banned from areas of many beaches to make sure little waders aren’t run over by surfboard cowboys. Usually, a yellow flag with a black ball marks the forbidden zone.

There are now approximately 4 million surfers ripping pipelines all over the world, and probably a lot who are thinking about it. The first thing to learn is proper etiquette. As a beginner tries to balance himself on the roiling surf, he better watch out for other surfers, especially grizzled veterans with barnacles on their wet suits. Cross their paths and forget those good vibrations.

“Unfortunately, a lot of beginners go to Malibu and they get in the way of other surfers,” Richards said. “That gets them frustrated and the other guys angry.”

Richards suggests that novices practice at sandy beaches, as opposed to a beach with a rock bottom like Malibu. “Stay away from other surfers as much as possible,” Richards said. “Get your wave knowledge and your timing and your balance before you move up to a higher-grade wave.”

For a young Valley surfer who can’t drive, it isn’t as easy getting to the beach as it is, say, getting to the Sherman Oaks Galleria. The Parks and Recreation Dept. beach bus isn’t any help to surfers, either. The bus, which runs Monday through Saturday from the Valley to Malibu, is popular with students, who pay only 40 cents for a round trip, but surfers are not allowed to take their boards aboard.

So what’s a young Valley surfer to do? The answer is the surfer mom, who bears a close resemblance to the Little League mom and the Saturday morning dance lesson mom. Valley surfer moms pack a lunch, suntan lotion, a few magazines, the latest Harlequin novel and the kids into the family station wagon and drive to Malibu about 7 in the morning. While the kids surf, surfer mom works on her tan. It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.

“I ditched work to be here, and this is the first time I’ve stayed all day, so I’m going to get roasted,” said Gay McGee of Canoga Park, whose 14-year-old son, Matthew, was hanging 10 off the Malibu shore. “I don’t know what’s going to happen when school starts. I’m not sure I’m dedicated enough to get up at 4 or 5 and take him to the beach.”

Before her son took up the sport, McGee hadn’t heard good things about surfing. “I know they say it’s supposed to be a sleazy crowd,” she said, “but I don’t see these kids stealing from each other or fighting. All they do it sit out there on that water and talk. There’s real camaraderie going on.”

A surfing mom also has other responsibilities besides driving. Like buying her son’s equipment and wardrobe. In the water, the fashion-conscious surfer is wearing a $130 O’Neill wet suit and standing on a $300 Becker board, which is shorter (6 feet vs. 9-6) and lighter (7 pounds vs. 42) than it was 25 years ago. On dry land, Matthew needs the right surfer clothes to be really rad.

“I’ve got to buy him $40 or $50 pants,” his surfer mom said. “It’s really crazy.”

But all worthwhile, surfers claim. To those who succumb to the pull of the sea and chase endless summers on a surfboard, surfing has no equal.

“Every wave is different,” Richards said. “There’s a certain thrill about that. And in contrast to other sports, you’re moving and the object you’re on is moving. That’s a challenge.”

When he used to ditch high school to go to the beach, Danny Molnar had another reason for liking surfing.

“You get to be a bum for a day,” he said.