PACIFIC HEIGHTS

Where there’s a man called “Flea,” there’s bound to be a circus.

It sure seemed like one last Friday, when 20 of the world’s top big-wave surfers gathered in the chilly Pacific north of this scenic coastal community to compete in the second Quiksilver “Men Who Ride Mountains” event at Maverick’s.

Helicopters with camera crews hovered just beyond reach of the towering peaks, some measuring 40 feet from crest to trough, breaking with a resonant boom and roaring toward shore like massive walls of destruction.

Boats full of spectators jockeyed for position, some carrying passengers as green as the shifting sea.

Smaller, jet-powered vessels dashed in and out of the impact zone, towing sleds and rescuing fallen wave riders from being further pummeled and possibly killed.

One surfer had a Maverick’s “bomb” explode at his heels after a successful drop-in, lifting him from his board and then burying him for several seconds. He came up bleeding through his nose. Another surfaced so disoriented in a swirling sea of foam, he climbed on his board and paddled in circles. Still another came up coughing blood.

Maverick’s was “macking,” as they say when the bigger swells pulsate in from the northwest. For the first time under such intense mainstream media scrutiny, the once-secret spot, remotely situated half a mile beyond the cliffs of Pillar Point, was living up to its reputation.

“I was awed by what I saw out there this year,” said Bernie Baker, a contest judge brought over from Oahu’s North Shore, where thundering surf has been ridden for more than a century. “I saw a couple of waves out there today that were basically the entire ocean sort of spilling over onto the edge of earth.”

And when it receded, there was Darryl Virostko, a.k.a “Flea,” a proud resident of nearby Santa Cruz, standing on top of the world as winner of this grand spectacle for the second year in a row.

“I used to not like the name,” he said of the moniker he earned years ago by being so scrawny and looking so small on the large waves he liked to ride. “But I’m all right with it now.”

Sure he is. Think the morning talk shows would be calling, as they were this week, if he hadn’t such a catchy nickname?

Flea, 28 and still lean but no longer scrawny at 5 feet 9 and 150 pounds, would like to think so.

Last Friday’s victory, worth $30,000, was more impressive than the previous year’s triumph for a number of reasons. One is that the waves were about eight feet bigger than last year, and at Maverick’s, that translates into about another ton of water hurtling you toward shore.

Another is that serious steps were taken this year to legitimize the winner. Thrown into the lineup was pro surfing’s Goliath, Kelly Slater, a six-time world-tour champion and Quiksilver sponsoree, added to the list to “up the ante,” said Taylor Whisenand, director of marketing for the Huntington Beach surfwear company.

Hawaii’s Noah Johnson, winner of last winter’s Eddie Aikau memorial contest at Waimea Bay on Oahu’s North Shore--an event held only in years when the waves measure 20 feet or more from the back--was also a new entry. Johnson was the one reportedly paddling in circles.

Hawaii’s Brock Little, a well-known big-wave specialist, was a repeat entry, as was Australia’s Tony Ray. The man said to surf Maverick’s better than anyone, Peter Mel, made it to the six-man final this year, but again failed to get the drop on Flea, finishing fourth behind Ray and Slater.

The hourlong final was basically a showdown between Slater and Flea, with Slater taking the early lead after a daring speed run down the sheer face of one of the larger waves during an early set.

An even larger set rolled in after that, and Flea turned to catch the first wave. He knew he was too deep on the shoulder, behind the cresting lip. But he had committed himself, and he paid the price by free-falling 20 feet, then getting sucked back up the face and over the falls.

The crowd cheered when he surfaced after only a few seconds and began paddling back out, just as it cheered his every wave during a late flurry, including a near-airborne drop and the day’s closest thing to a tube ride, a head-dip beneath the lip of a grinding inside barrel.

Slater was gracious in defeat afterward, saying, “I’ve surfed a lot of sessions in big waves, and with some of the best big-wave guys in the world, and saw Flea definitely charging as hard as any of them.

“I went out there to try to get [a good score on] three good waves, you know? Flea was out there taking off deep, doing air drops, going over the falls in waves. . . . He was in a whole different zone.”

And in a whole different zone Flea remains, not entirely comfortable with his sudden celebrity.

“It’s pretty overwhelming, actually,” he said. “Everyone in Santa Cruz knows who I am now. It’s pretty radical. I can’t even drive my car out of the driveway without someone pulling up to congratulate me.”

He already has appeared on at least two Bay Area morning talk shows. His agent is trying to get him on “The Tonight Show With Jay Leno.”

Rusty International, another Orange County surfwear and equipment company that recently agreed to a sponsorship deal with Virostko, probably will have to renegotiate if it wishes to keep him. Sources within the industry say Flea’s annual salary probably will be in the six-figure range this year, based on his rising status as a big-wave rider.

That he gained such status basically in his backyard, without any significant experience in Hawaii, is unprecedented. Virostko, who has surfed Waimea only once and didn’t care for the crowds, has never had much reason to venture far from his small apartment behind his parents’ house. Life in Santa Cruz is laid-back and simple, and Flea is among its many residents who cherish the city’s relative seclusion.

For surfers, Santa Cruz is paradise, offering numerous breaks in and around town that are not very crowded, thanks in part to the fact that the water temperature rarely gets above 60 in the summer and is in the low to mid-50s all winter.

Virostko has been surfing since he was 9. His first session at Maverick’s was in 1991. At that time, he was one of only a handful to even attempt the long paddle out. Maverick’s, named after the dog of an old-time local surfer, is not visible from Highway 1, nor is it easily accessible by car. That the actual break is half a mile offshore makes it all the more daunting.

Through the late 1970s and most of the ‘80s, Jeff Clark had the break all to himself, and because he surfed it alone for so many years and lived to tell about it, he is a local legend who at 42 is still shown respect whenever he paddles out.

In 1992, Surfer magazine blew Maverick’s’ cover with a story and photo spread. In December 1994, Hawaii’s renowned big-wave specialist, Mark Foo, paddled out. He disappeared under the weight of a Maverick’s breaker and his body wasn’t discovered until two hours later, still attached to the leash on his broken board near the mouth of Pillar Point Harbor. A white cross stands on the cliff in his honor.

Maverick’s was really in the spotlight after that. There was the K2 Big Wave Contest, offering $50,000 to the person who could prove with a photo that he rode the biggest wave during the winter of 1997-98. Some with no business at Maverick’s paddled out anyway, finding themselves in way over their heads.

Carlsbad’s Taylor Knox won by successfully negotiating a 50-foot face during another contest at Todos Santos Island off Ensenada. He narrowly defeated Mel, whose submission of a photographed ride at Maverick’s was said to be just as impressive.

Then came Quiksilver, which already had the “Eddie” in Hawaii but wanted also to showcase Maverick’s and “support the handful of guys who surf there,” Whisenand said.

Clark, a local board shaper, was made contest director. Virostko added to the circus atmosphere of the inaugural event by arriving with his hair dyed to look like the coat of a leopard--as a show of solidarity for a good friend suffering from cancer and losing his hair to chemotherapy.

Virostko won the contest largely on the merits of two spectacular tube rides but was in no mood to celebrate. He learned immediately afterward that another close friend, only 22, had died of a heart attack.

Flea struggled with his emotions while accepting his $15,000 prize, then blew a big chunk of that the next day by throwing an all-day, all-night wake/party in a suite at a posh seaside hotel, where alcohol flowed as freely as tears.

The friend with cancer eventually died too, giving Virostko plenty to think about during the long waits between sets.

After his latest victory, however, the tide finally seems to be turning in his favor. “This year, one of my friends had a baby, a little boy,” he said. “So I thought that was pretty cool to see someone come into this world for a change.”

* FISH REPORT, PAGE 13