California’s legendary coastline has long been a magnet for surfers, dreamers, and sun-seekers. But behind the shimmering waves and iconic boardwalks, a complex interplay of economics, environmental threats, and personal stories is shaping the future of surf culture—and the communities that depend on it.
In Santa Cruz, the surf isn’t just a way of life—it’s big business. According to a new study released by the Save the Waves Coalition, surfing pumps nearly $200 million a year into the local economy. That’s a staggering figure, and one that underscores just how deeply the sport is woven into the fabric of this coastal city. “People come here, they spend their money at restaurants, coffee shops. There’s the boardwalk, there’s many places that utilize the ocean and how beautiful the coastline is here. And one of the biggest draws to people visiting here and staying here, even though with sales and rent going up a lot, is surfing in the ocean,” said professional surfer Shaun Burns, speaking to KGO.
But the waves that make Santa Cruz famous are under threat. The same study warns that a single foot of sea level rise could diminish surfable waves by nearly 40%. That’s not just a blow to local surfers; it’s a potential economic disaster, with projected losses running into the tens of millions of dollars. As ocean tides push inland, vulnerable cliffs and beaches could see their surf breaks vanish or become unrideable. “And then those breaks that were low tide only right now will eventually not break at all or only under very, very low tides. In addition to that, you have the whole cliff situation,” explained researcher Diego Sancho, who helped model the costly scenarios.
Santa Cruz isn’t alone in confronting this challenge. Just an hour north, the city of Pacifica is wrestling with its own surf crisis. Erosion and rising seas have battered the area around Pacifica’s pier, threatening not only the local surf scene but also the city’s protective sea wall. In response, a group of surfers and coastal advocates—including longtime activist Rob Caughlan, civil engineer Bob Battalio, and Tom Kendall—have proposed an innovative solution: building an artificial reef offshore. The idea is to create a mound of rocks, low enough for waves to break over, backed by sand. This structure would not only help shield the sea wall from the relentless ocean but also potentially create a new surf break, drawing surfers—and their spending—back to the area.
“What would happen is we would create a mound of rocks, kind of like a big breakwater, but it would be low enough that the waves would break along them, hopefully. So we create a surfing spot,” said Battalio. The proposal has started to gain traction with city officials. “It is a big lift, but I really think it’s our only serious option for the, the near term, you know, I feel with sea rise eventually we probably will have to do some managed retreat. But I think this buys a lot of time,” added Kendall.
For Caughlan, the mission is about more than just saving a beach—it’s about reaching the right audience and making the case for innovation. “There’s a limited hundred miles of coastline in California. A lot of that coastline doesn’t have good surf, but if we can make some new surf, better surf, surfers are interested in that,” he said.
Back in Santa Cruz, Save the Waves and its partners hope their study will serve as a wake-up call for coastal planners across California. CEO Nik Strong-Cvetich sees the research as a template that other communities can use to put a dollar value on their own shorelines. “So if I were to wave my magic wand, we would have a process in which surfing communities across the state from the bottom up could say, hey, we want to be able to protect our surf breaks,” Strong-Cvetich told KGO.
While the economic and environmental stakes are high, the story of California surfing is also profoundly personal. Jamie Brisick, who once rode the waves as a professional surfer on the ASP World Tour in the late 1980s, knows better than most how the ocean can offer both solace and challenge. Sponsored by Quiksilver and living what many would call the California dream, Brisick’s life was upended by tragedy: his older brother’s battle with drug addiction ended in death, and years later, his wife was killed in a sudden accident in 2013.
Brisick left the world of professional surfing and reinvented himself as a writer, with work appearing in The New York Times, The New Yorker, and The Guardian. Reflecting on his journey through grief, Brisick told Life In Seven Songs, “The year after my wife died was the toughest year of my life by far. And yet 12 years on now, it was one of the most beautiful years of my life as well. I was deeply broken and disheartened. But I also saw this incredible beauty to being so completely sad.”
For Brisick, music became a lifeline. After his brother’s death, he found himself playing Bob Dylan’s “I’ll Remember You” on repeat, letting the music carry him through waves of sorrow. Later, in the aftermath of his wife’s passing, “Day Comes” by G. Wayne Thomas became his anchor. “This song was something I could grab onto, like a buoy in a stormy sea,” Brisick said. His playlist of seven songs—ranging from Blue Magic’s “Sideshow” to Bill Callahan’s “Dress Sexy at My Funeral”—became a map of his emotional landscape, each track a marker of resilience and transformation.
The twin narratives of economic urgency and personal resilience echo up and down California’s coast. Surfonomics, as the researchers call it, is more than just a catchy term; it’s a recognition that the waves are valuable—not just for the thrill they provide, but for the livelihoods and communities they sustain. As sea levels rise and beaches erode, the stakes for surfers, business owners, and residents alike have never been higher. And as Brisick’s story reminds us, the ocean’s power to heal and inspire endures, even in the face of loss.
From Santa Cruz’s bustling boardwalks to Pacifica’s battered pier, the future of California surfing hangs in the balance. But whether through innovative engineering, economic advocacy, or the quiet strength found in music and memory, those who love the waves are fighting to keep their culture—and their coastlines—alive.
