Uncle Clyde’s Last RideClyde Aikau was frequently at the center of a paddle-out. The floating memorial service, most often a ritual for surfers, was led annually by Clyde at Waimea Bay on the North Shore of Oahu to mark the beginning of the Eddie Aikau Big Wave Invitational season — the Eddie, for short. Every winter, Clyde would sit in the middle, speak to the invited surfers and celebrate his brother Eddie. But last Thursday, it was Clyde’s life being honored in the warm waters of Waikiki. The legendary Hawaiian surfer, lifeguard and leader, known to most as Uncle Clyde, died on May 3 at the age of 75. He is survived by his wife, Eleni; his son, Ha’a; and his sister, Myra. While paddle-outs are not traditional Polynesian practices, they incorporate many Polynesian cultural traditions, said Isaiah Walker, a professor of history at Brigham Young University-Hawaii. The hallowed paddle-outs at Eddie opening ceremonies helped popularize the practice.
“If Eddie was the known legend, Clyde was the unknown legend,” Jodi Young, a lifelong family friend, said of the Aikaus. As the youngest, Clyde looked up to his brother and dedicated his life to preserving his memory and selflessness. In 1967, Eddie became the first lifeguard on the North Shore of Oahu, home to seven miles of some of the world’s most dangerous waves. A fearless surfer, he became known for saving more than 500 people as a lifeguard. Clyde joined him as a North Shore lifeguard two years later. Eddie was invited to join the crew of a double-hulled voyaging canoe, known as a Hōkūleʻa, that retraced the ancient Polynesian migration route between Hawaii and Tahiti in 1978. On the first night, the vessel hit a storm and capsized. Eddie, who had brought a surfboard with him on the journey, volunteered to paddle for help. The U.S. Coast Guard eventually rescued the rest of the crew, but Eddie was never seen again. Clyde founded the Eddie Aikau surf competition in 1984. The event was held at Waimea Bay, a place Clyde called a “spiritual valley” for the family. While the Aikau brothers were the first to serve as lifeguards there, the family’s ancestors had been entrusted as the caretakers of the bay and valley by King Kamehameha, Clyde said in previous interviews. The tournament has become one of the world’s most prestigious and elusive surf events. It’s invite-only and held only when the waves at Waimea Bay consistently reach heights exceeding 20 feet, which refers to a wave face that is 40 feet high or about the size of a four-story building. In surfing vernacular, the waves must be “Eddie-sized.” Those conditions are rare: The tournament has run just 11 times since its inception.
Being recognized by Clyde and invited to compete in the event was like “a modern-day king of surfing giving you the knight’s honor,” said Ben Wilkinson, a surfer who has been invited to the Eddie multiple times. Clyde won the inaugural event and surfed his last Eddie in 2016 at the age of 66, decades older than most competitors. Wilkerson, who moved from Australia to Hawaii in 2005 in part to chase his dream of surfing the Eddie, competed in the 2016 event with Clyde. “He was so proud to still be able to do it, and do it at such a high level,” Wilkerson said. “Nothing was going to stop him.” Not even, it turned out, a torn rotator cuff sustained after surfing a massive wave. The contest was a labor of love for Clyde, who is often described in terms of his mana, the Hawaiian word for spirit or energy. Clyde’s mana, people say, made him larger than life. He made time for people, said his son, Ha’a Aikau. He was giving in spirit and in practice. He helped in large and small ways: finding an apartment and paying rent for an unhoused family, helping surfers understand the art of charging big waves, and even securing parking for a reporter in a small beach lot. In December 2022, I was in Oahu during the opening ceremony of the Eddie and asked organizers whether I could cover it for The New York Times. They kindly extended an invitation. Then I got a call from Clyde. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll save you a parking spot.” I was floored. The next day, when I pulled my friend’s white Prius into the tiny parking lot, there was Clyde in a navy “Eddie Would Go” T-shirt and jeans, directing me through traffic before introducing me to everyone. He set up stands featuring a red surfboard and board shorts that had belonged to Eddie, along with a painting of Eddie surfing a giant wave by the artist Robert Wyland. He wiped the sweat off his brow as he adjusted the displays and greeted every surfer who arrived with their guns, or giant boards. Surfers near and far clamor to be a part of the paddle-out. Costs and logistics are no object. For many, participating in the ritual is as much of a privilege as competing in the tournament, if the waves are big enough to hold it. Each paddle-out has its own traditions, many led by religious leaders. They often steep tea leaves — which signify royalty or people of importance — in saltwater and spray the surfers and their boards with the liquid. The practice “is a spiritual cleansing before you go out to release hewa, or the negativity from you,” Dr. Walker said. There can be various forms of chanting, or oli, to invite kupuna, or ancestors, to be present. It was all for Eddie, Clyde would say. Clyde was quick to become emotional when speaking about his big brother’s legacy, his admiration abundant. “My dad always said he always followed his brother’s footsteps because that was his idol,” Ha’a said. “And my idol was my dad.” Ha’a sat in the center of the paddle-out on Thursday. It was Ha’a whom hundreds of people looked to from their surfboards, outrigger canoes, sailboats and Jet Skis. He held his father’s ashes and sobbed as the community surrounded him, joyously splashing saltwater and tossing plumeria and tea leaves into the ocean. But the family decided not to spread his ashes there, not yet, Ha’a said. His remains will be released at the Eddie opening ceremony this December. There, Clyde will once again be at the center of the paddle-out, in a tribute that is for both him and his brother. Invite your friends.
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