The North Shore’s Best-Kept Secret
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By CHRISTIAN LATUSZEK
5:15 AM
Fifteen minutes before my alarm went off, I was already wide awake. The wind forecast from the night before hinted at potential waves — I couldn’t help but feel the pull. This is where my adventure begins.
Jumping out of bed, I made a carb-heavy breakfast and hit the road. My surf gear was already packed in the car. It was a crisp September morning, and as I walked up the alley to start my car, I took in the view of Canal Park and the iconic drawbridge from my perch on the Central Hillside of Duluth, Minnesota.
What a beautiful morning on Lake Superior
Good surf on the Lakes usually comes at a price — bitter cold, snow or howling winds. But today felt different. A few clouds decorated the sky, a light breeze drifted off the Lake and a brilliant red sunrise was creeping over the horizon.
There are probably a million ways to forecast surf on the Lakes, but I only know of a few. In my experience, wind direction and intensity are the biggest drivers. If the direction it’s blowing from is even a few degrees off, it could be totally flat. And if the wind isn’t strong enough, the result is the same — nothing.
I hope I don’t get skunked …
I’ve been fooled before. Times where the wind direction, air pressure and temperature, water temperature, and everything in between were “perfect” on paper — but the Lake had other plans. That’s how fickle the Lakes can be.
The drive didn’t take long, but when all I am thinking about is whether or not I’ll see a wave, it feels like hours. You know the feeling of waiting at the doctor’s office before they call your name or the final moments before tearing into a gift? It’s a package of angst, excitement and nervousness all in one.
What if it’s flat? What if I’m wrong?
As I pulled onto the road where the waves should be, I spotted a lone parked car. Not normal for a Saturday morning at this break.
Oh no … did I totally mess this up? Is it flat?
It was bright enough to see the horizon, but the sun had yet to crest over the Lake. I parked my car, stepped outside and waited.
Then, sneaking toward me, were four distinct dark lines in the water. Before I knew it, the set of four waves broke about 75 yards offshore. They looked about chest high, with clean shoulders and the sunrise casting golden light on the curling lips.
Waves!!!
I started to change into my suit as quickly as I could. It was warm enough for my 3/2 — 3 millimeters of neoprene in the torso, 2 in the arms and legs. Once winter comes, however, I will have to transition to my hooded 6/4 with 7mm boots and mittens to fight off the freezing temperatures.
I waited for a lull, then jumped in, board out in front. The Lake felt ... inviting. A stark contrast to the brain freeze I’m used to dealing with.
As I paddled out, the incoming ripples lapped at my surfboard. Being prone on a board is the closest thing to floating on the water itself. This, combined with the experience of feeling weightless on a surfboard, makes for a unique feeling I never had before surfing. Darkness enveloped me momentarily as I paddled through the troughs of the waves, only to be met with golden sunlight as I crested the backs of the waves.
The fun thing about surfing the Great Lakes? The swell period is short — usually 4–10 seconds. On the ocean, surfers typically get much longer gaps between waves, giving them time to pick and choose. Here, you have to be sharp, ready and quick.
I settled into the takeoff zone and waited. From shore, it seemed like waves were coming in every 5 minutes. Now is the time for breathing slowly and being ready for what’s to come.
I saw the next set of bumps roll off the horizon and I paddled a little more to the left to position myself. I let the first and second wave pass; the third one seemed to be the one I wanted. When it got about 7 yards in front of me, I whipped my board around, sank the tail toward the bottom of the Lake, and started to paddle with my chest up toward the shore.
Before I knew it, the Lake had picked me up, and I was on my feet, gliding.
Taking a ride on a wave is an experience beyond words. Part flying, part floating, part connection — to the water, to the moment and to myself. As I cruised down the line, I caught a glimpse of the golden rays hitting the lip, igniting the wave in a shimmering blue-green that nearly hypnotized me.
And then the thought hit me. What if I wasn’t able to do this? This idea sent a shudder down my spine, and I was reminded of a time when surfing was nearly taken from me.
Nightmare on the North Shore
Surfing has taken me to incredible places. I learned how to surf while surrounded by the Great Lakes in Michigan. My first trip was to Puerto Rico. Then good surf took me to Costa Rica.
In May 2023, I made a connection to the North Shore of Oahu, Hawaii, shortly before I moved to the North Shore of Minnesota in the fall of the same year. Saltwater and sharks aside, what’s the biggest difference between the North Shore of Oahu and the North Shore of Minnesota? Oahu’s North Shore faces north, whereas Minnesota’s North Shore faces south and east.
During this trip I surfed at a spot on Oahu called Lanikai. It’s a popular break on the North Shore, and the surf was up. Many surfers were wearing helmets and body protection with 9- and 10-foot “guns” in their hands (surfboards intended to help you get on BIG waves and still be able to maneuver). I was out there on an 8-foot longboard — which was my first mistake. I stayed outside to avoid the most powerful waves coming through to the peak.
However, after spending time out there, a rogue set had come through, and I had to paddle out past it or else I’d get blasted.
I dug as hard and as fast as I could, but I didn’t make it. I was not in a position to ditch my board because there was someone behind me. I couldn’t risk hurting someone. So I held on tight and went over the falls of a double overhead Hawaiian wave. When I landed, it felt like my body was hit by a freight train. I heard my right knee pop while I was at the mercy of the water.
An eternity later, I found myself rising out of the water, gasping for air and frantically looking for the shoreline. I knew I was hurt. I had to get back to shore or I could be in serious trouble. After forcing my mind to calm down, I eventually made my way back to shore. I couldn’t bear much weight on my right leg without grimacing in pain. I knew I tore something in my knee.
Light at the End of the Tunnel
The pain lingered for over a year after the initial injury, but I never explored surgery. I have experienced other injuries in my past where a doctor insisted upon surgery and only surgery, but I knew there had to be another option.
In my experience, physical training has changed my life for the better. It has allowed me to continue to live my life the way I want to, without limits.
Everyone is unique and has their own story. Surfing first put me onto this path of recovery through training — and now it’s my job as a coach to listen to clients, genuinely hear them and work with them on a solution that will get them back to doing what they love. This inspired me to further my education as a trainer and inspired me to begin to live in the gap between health care and fitness.
Community On, Around and In the Lake
Oftentimes, I show up to a surf spot alone, without knowing who else will show. Eventually, familiar faces arrive. Eric, Evan, Josh, Danny, Erik and others. We all travel from various places, even across state lines, to score waves.
When I made the move to Duluth in the fall of 2023, I didn’t have any surf friends. Just over a year later, there is rarely a time when I go in the water and I don’t recognize anyone. There have even been times where I know upwards of 20 others — maybe more — in the water, all sharing what the Lake has to offer.
For me, surfing goes beyond what it is physically. It is something that has given so much to me when my life was stressful and I didn’t have many answers. Seemingly, when I ride my board and sit in the water, the answer is right in front of me.
I am excited to continue to help others on their journey while I continue to explore mine. Every day as I commute to the gym through the Duluth metro area to Lincoln Park, I think of those I have been able to help reclaim their life through movement, and the feeling I get from it is one that continues to push me to keep moving forward. One step at a time.
That’s why training isn’t about reps and sets for me. It’s about building the resilience and ability to say yes to the things that make life worth living.