More than 100 years ago, American author Jack London wrote that surfing was a royal sport for the natural kings of earth. Having experienced firsthand the feeling of surfing on the paradisial shores of Waikiki in 1907, London transcribed into words the emotions, feelings and sensations of surfing. But, ask any surfer who’s been face to face with Mother Nature’s waters and they can tell you that London only scratched the surface of what surfing represents.

Today, surfing has never been more popular, and with movies such as Gidget, North Shore, Point Break and, most recently, Blue Crush — often romanticizing the sport — surfing has drawn many to slip on neoprene wetsuits and tackle the tides.

But mention the word “surfer,” and the boys with the “bushy-bushy blond hairdo” that the Beach Boys sang about, who went surfing across the U.S.A., come to the minds of many. Often, surfers are thought of as tanned, blonde haired, blue-eyed men in their twenties, sporting wrap-around sunglasses and flip-flops throughout the year. Many attribute this stereotype to the mainstream media. Movies, fashion magazines, music videos and, to some extent, surfing itself has sculpted the image of a surfer, often overshadowing the history and the creators of surfing — Asian Pacific Americans.

Contrary to popular belief, APAs surf all around the world — from the magnificent islands of Indonesia to Surfer’s Paradise in Australia to the unforgiving but rewarding waves of Northern California.

Long before London dipped his feet into the blue waters of Hawai‘i, Polynesians danced across the Pacific Ocean with long, wooden boards. Historians believe that Polynesians were the first group of people to surf, around 2000 B.C.E. When they migrated to Hawai‘i around 400 C.E., they brought the sport with them and blended it with their religious beliefs, making surfing an integral part of their traditions, ceremonies and lives.

“But a diversion the most common is upon the water, where there is very great sea, and surf breaking on the shore … they wait the time of the greatest swell that sets on shore, and altogether push forward with their arms to keep on its top, it sends them in with a most astonishing velocity, and the great art is to guide the plan [board] so as always to keep it in a proper direction on the top of the swell, and as it alters its direct.”

Hawaiians regarded surfing as a regal activity, almost to the point of spiritual enlightenment. What surfboard you rode depended on your status in society and the kapu, or royal, system. Hawaiian kings and chiefs rode the biggest surfboards, known as olo¢ which could measure up to 24 feet and weigh up to 200 pounds. These boards were carved from native Hawaiian trees, shaped, polished and finished with nut oil.

Duke Kahanamoku.

Revered as the “Father of Surfing,” the legendary Duke Paoa Kahanamoku surfed on the waters of Oahu and brought his art, craft and interpretation of the ancient ritual to beaches from California to Australia. He visited the San Francisco Bay Area several times, first in 1913, and surfed the breaks up and down Santa Cruz.

An Olympic swimmer and board shaper, the Duke reinvented modern-day surfing by creating innovative, lighter boards and introducing new body positions while standing on a surfboard. Other surfers, inspired by the Duke, shaped boards made out of lighter polyurethane and fiberglass, which gave surfers more control and ease of a board’s direction in the water.

Bryan Yuji Walker riding the waves at Jeffrey’s Bay, South Africa.

Hawaiians believed that by going into the ocean, the kai, they were immersing themselves into the body out of which they came. A sacred ritual between the individual, the sea and the gods, surfing extended beyond to being just a sport.

Much of this holds true to this day. Surfers all over the world seem to have inherited the spiritual mantra that Polynesians and Hawaiians ingrained into the art of surfing.

Today, chants that initiated surf sessions are replaced by acoustic guitars, the kahuna’s, or experts, who dedicated and blessed the boards before they set voyage are craftsmen and board shapers, and the kings who surfed the majestic Pacific are now renowned surfers who ride the waters of the world.

The rituals and ceremonies once practiced by ancient Hawaiians may not exist today, but go out to Northern California breaks like Ocean Beach, Steamer Lane and Maverick’s and you’ll see the modern-day equivalent.

On a grey, misty Saturday morning at San Francisco’s Ocean Beach, surfers line up one-by-one to look out into the distance of the mighty Pacific. They watch as a procession of white crests come one after the other, smashing against the shore with foam and ferocity. Few words, if any, are exchanged: the only sounds heard are the faint cries of seagulls and the pounding surf against the shore. It’s as though the surfers are communicating with the swells and tides. If they sense conditions are good they wax their boards and step into the 50 degree sea. And it is here, where these people prepare to do a noble feat — to carry on a tradition of the Hawaiians.

Rex (left) and Jason Biteng ventured into the water at Ft. Point last Sunday morning despite less than perfect surf conditions.

Brothers Rex and Jason Biteng have surfed for almost a decade. Growing up, their parents pushed them to play tennis, and even sent Rex to a tennis camp in Florida. But Rex would have rather checked out the beaches than tennis balls.

“The people I met through playing tennis and the people I met through surfing are at complete ends of the spectrum,” says Rex, 33, who is Filipino American. “The kids who played tennis were generally very rich, spoiled and materialistic. And out here in the waters, especially in Northern California, you don’t get that. That doesn’t really matter.”

The Bitengs usually surf at Ocean Beach or up north, near Marin and Bolinas. They can be seen most often at Ocean Beach, especially Rex who tries to make it out every day, year round.

Ocean Beach is probably one of the more dangerous breaks along the California coastline because of its constantly shifting tide patterns and moving sand bars. On a good day, Ocean Beach produces the clear and glassy waves that surfers dream about, but paddle out on a bad day — if you make it out to the line up — and be prepared to give yourself and your lungs a workout.

“Going to the beach and being in the ocean is a feeling I really can’t put into words,” says Jason, 25, who’s easily spotted because of his bright, red hair. “You have the solitude, but then you’re also out there with friends and it’s a lot of fun.”

Twenty-five-year-old Bryan Yuji Walker of Portola Valley, Calif., returned last month from a yearlong surf trip around the world. Combining his love of surfing with traveling, Walker left a well-paying job, packed his boards and bags and headed for a surfing adventure through four continents and five islands.

“It’s always been a dream of mine to look for uncrowded surf, the magical wave that nobody’s found yet,” says Walker, who is half Japanese and half Scottish. “My two other friends, Dan Mackowski and Bryan Behr [and I] all grew up together surfing and after a trip to Costa Rica we took in high school, we got hooked, that’s how this got started.”

For the past three years, Walker had a successful professional career as a product designer. Although Walker enjoyed his job, the time he had for surfing gradually decreased.

“It’s hard not to be able to do something that you’ve done for so long,” Walker says. He started surfing when he was six years old. “Since high school, Dan, Behr and I have planned and went on trips to explore breaks. Surfing is in me and I felt that if I didn’t go on the trip last year, who knows when I’d be able to again.”

The trio’s journey started in Santa Cruz and from there, Tahiti, the Cook Islands, Fiji, New Zealand, Australia, Mauritius, South Africa and finally South America.

In a sport often dominated by males, women have mainly remained on the beach watching men as they paddle into the surf. Camille Ramani, 30, decided to take to the surf last year and has not looked back. Born in India, Ramani immigrated to the United States when she was seven, and grew up in San Francisco, Pacifica and Daly City.

Her proximity to the coast and salt water gave her a taste for surfing.

“I started after some co-workers of mine introduced me to it,” Ramani says. “After that, I took several lessons at Santa Cruz with some of my friends. It’s funny because here we were, a group of women in our 30s and we’ve lived here in Pacifica all our lives and never surfed.”

With that, Ramani decided to take advantage of the beaches along the Northern California coastline. She even moved to Sydney, Australia for three months to surf the warm waters.

The physical challenge it takes to be in the water, to be in an unpredictable environment, is one aspect of surfing Ramani enjoys. The emotional peace and balance she is able to find while on a board in the Pacific Ocean is another.

“I’m not an overly religious person, but surfing is a spiritual thing when you’re out there in the water,” she says. “Those moments when you’re sitting and floating are so peaceful and quiet.”

Camille Ramani at home in Pacifica waxing her board.

“It’s not a good day of surfing unless I get hurt,” says Ramani, who’s asthmatic and admits to not being a good swimmer. “I haven’t really mastered the art of protecting myself from my board.”

Ramani says she has seen a fair number of APAs in the water, but in general, the sport is still male-dominated and majority white. She believes conservative upbringing and the heavy focus on studying and education may deter APAs from trying surfing. Ramani adds that fear of injuries, cold, deep waters and the sun may be factors.

“A lot of APAs are very modest, and when you surf you have to change out there in the parking lot with a towel around your waist, and sometimes the towel falls off,” she says. “It’s disconcerting for many APAs and women.”

Top: Kei Iwamoto. Above: Climbing out of the water at Ft. Point, Shuga Tanaka calls it a day after catching his wave.

On a recent Sunday out at Fort Point, just underneath the Golden Gate Bridge, Shuga Tanaka, 26, and Kei Iwamoto, 27, found themselves a little slice of heaven in the water. Both acknowledged the dangerous location of Fort Point, which can thrust an inexperienced surfer into the jagged rocks and boulders that line the break.

Tanaka learned how to surf in Japan from his father. He’s lived in San Francisco for the past three years and attends City College where he’s studying international business.

“The waves are nature and I feel like I have conversations with Mother Nature when I surf,” says Tanaka, who’s been surfing for eight years. “I want to say more, but I can only say it in Japanese. Once I saw two sharks while I was out at Ocean Beach, but they are also part of nature.”

Tanaka has surfed Bali, Brazil, England, Australia and Costa Rica, but his dream is to surf Nias and the Mentawai Islands in Indonesia.

Following surf etiquette, Tanaka shares the waves with the other surfers in the water. As seals pop their heads up and down, sneaking a look at the surfers, Iwamoto paddles into a wave and is able to glide gracefully across the water. A drama student at San Francisco State, Iwamoto has only been surfing for a couple of years, but plans to make it long-term activity.

“I’ve always wanted to try surfing, it always looked fun,” says Iwamoto, who was born in Tokyo and moved to the United States six years ago. “But I’ve had some scary moments though. It was an 8-to 10-feet-day at Ocean Beach and I paddled out and got caught in a riptide.”

When the conditions are good, the ocean is for the taking. The sea is a free form of expression. Manuel Hipol, 35, from Linda Mar notes, “The ocean is like a big canvas, and my board is the paintbrush.”

Hipol, who is Filipino, Portuguese and French, started surfing when he was 26. Trained in the cold waters of Humboldt County, Hipol regards surfing with a truly spiritual awe.

“I was out at Linda Mar right at the end of sunset when the moon begins to rise and my buddies and I surfed by the light of Taco Bell,” Hipol says. “When you surf in the dark, you can’t see the surf, but you feel it through your feet. Man, that goes down in the books.”

Whatever each surfer takes from the water — adrenaline, beauty, therapy — there exists an intangible element that causes the surfer to go back for more. But to fully understand all these descriptions you must have experienced it yourself. Watching surfers riding mountains and making peace with Mother Nature’s tempests is like watching poetry in motion. Surfing requires so much raw muscle and strength to paddle out past the white water gates that guard the sacred waves, but also requires agility and enormous patience.

Reach May Chow (who learned to surf in Half Moon Bay at the age of 9) at mchow@asianweek.com.