L.A. local Strider "Raspberry" Wasilewski makes like a bird and soars through the sky.

      Photos: Jason Childs

      When a wave has an intimidating name such as Avalanche, you sort of lose interest in doing anything other than observing. And that's exactly what 99 percent of the people checking out the waves at Haleiwa do. For the 1 percent who choose to make the long paddle out to this lonesome peak, we say, "have a grand time," as there won't be many others in hot pursuit of this particular bombie-curl.

      What you'll find upon arrival is a deepwater peak that tends to shift around a bit. The lefts lead to a mean inside bowl section that will either give you the barrel—or the beating—of your life. More often than not, you'll get the latter.

      This sounds, of course, like about a hundred other waves at Oahu, but the one thing that separates Avalanche from the rest of the wave pack is that it handles the big stuff with ease. By big we're not talking just a solid 10 to 15 "Hawaiian feet," but more like 15 to 20 feet (meaning perhaps 50 feet anywhere else in the world). Smaller, and perhaps non-life-threatening days can be enjoyed here, but again, think before you buy. Just try not to bust your board or leash, as it is a very lengthy swim back to shore.

      Moseying around Mokes

      The Mokuleia stretch of coastline can be described as a part-time playfield. That's because the angle of the beach causes the blasting northeasterly trade winds to blow in a displeasing side/onshore flow. For those intent on surfing these parts, what this means is that you have to wait for the weather forecasts to read kona or variable winds. This produces quality surfing conditions between the stretches of ravaging onshore chop. Note: There's more out here than meets the eye, but our lips will remain sealed out of respect for the locals who were willing to share a lot of surfy aloha with us.

      Just in front of Mokuleia Beach Park at the east side of Dillingham Airfield, a condition-pending right can be found. This wave isn't always good as it only accepts certain small swells from an appropriate angle (and preferably on a higher tide), but if these factors happen to align as the planets rarely do (what's that happening called?), then you may luck into some shreddable right-hand action. Winds need to be dead for this spot to come alive.

      At the west end of the Dillingham Airfield strip is a pleasurable left and right peak affectionately known as Army Beach, probably after the military types who were once found on this beach. The left is the best bet, and you can pull into some clean, green rooms when it's good. Army Beach is normally blown to bits by the prevailing trade winds (as is the rest of the Mokuleia coastline), and it needs a kona or dead wind day to even be remotely considered worth surfing.

      If you've only encountered bad surf luck along the Farrington Highway part of Oahu's North Shore, we suggest you cross over to the mauka side of the highway and take up the other big sport practiced out here. We're talking about polo, the so-called "Sport of Kings," which has been played for years at the old Mokuleia Polo Field. Along with Pipeline Beach back up the coast, these two places are probably Hawaii's most exclusive athletic arenas.

      And if, by days end, you've only caught no-surf luck and found no waves whatsoever, the sunset show going down Kaena Point is always a great way to end your day and to soothe the soul. Just pray for clear skies.

      —Lorca Lueras

      The North Shore has always been the proving ground for cutting-edge performance surfing. Christian Fletcher, one of surfing's early aerial pioneers, rises to well above the roar. Photo: Jason Childs

      On the waves, women are stepping it up as always. Megan Abubo exhibits hot form. Photo: Jason Childs

      On any given sunny day, you can be sure that there will be uh, cuties on the beach. Photos. Jason Childs; except for bottom right by Jeff-Divine

      Whenever you're out surfing and there are cute girls on the beach, it always inspires you want to push the pedal to the metal. Photo: Jason Childs

      Of course, when you just can't seem to get that rhythm going, it makes you wish you'd never gotten out of bed. that morning. Photo: Joe Carini

      Every surfing country has its social epicenter. For California it's got to be Huntington Beach. In France it would probably be Biarritz or Hossegor. In exotic Japan, they bow to the honorable Shonan. In Hawaii, though, it is the little sugarcane town known as Haleiwa.

      Haleiwa has always been a crossroads kind of country village. It was originally created by Hawaii's sugarcane and pineapple industries at the base of Oahu's central agricultural plain. In later years, Haleiwa became better known as the gateway to what would one day be called Oahu's North Shore.

      For many years, the town of Haleiwa endured little change, but this ended in the late 1950s, when a new breed of tourists began spending their money here and staying in small homes that could be rented for the entire winter surfing season. These first arrivals were big-wave riders, and most of them came from the mainland US and Australia.

      Initially, these surfers were a new and curious sight for local farmers and store owners to behold, but soon enough they had become part of an annual migration of surfers who would drive out from Town to Country to ride the reefs around Haleiwa. A few would even head on up to Sunset Beach, especially if the surf there was big. It was thrilling enough then just to watch Sunset and Waimea break.

      For probably the next 10 years or so, little changed in Haleiwa, except perhaps for the addition of a new diner, gas station or maybe a tourist shop that catered to the people who drove through on their way to the North Shore's sandy and isolated beaches. At that time, Haleiwa was gateway to the vacation homes that people from Honolulu stayed in on weekends and

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