California’s iconic breaks need protection, and surfers are leading the fight
There’s a magic to paddling out at first light, when the ocean lies calm, the wind hasn’t stirred, and the only sound is the rhythmic dip of hands through cold water. For me, and for many others, surfing is more than recreation. It’s a way of life, a tether to nature, a daily grounding ritual. But in recent years, California’s surf breaks — iconic, cultural, and ecological treasures — have faced mounting threats. As a lifelong California surfer, I’ve seen firsthand the mounting pressure on these places, and now more than ever we need to save our surf.
To the uninitiated, a surf break might seem like just a good place to catch a wave. But for those of us who’ve spent years in the lineup, these places are sacred. Malibu, Rincon, Trestles, Steamer Lane — these aren’t just dots on a map, they are living ecosystems, cultural landmarks, and stages for shared human experience. Each has its own rhythm, cast of characters, and delicate environmental conditions. Some waves peel perfectly over cobblestone reefs. Others explode over sandbars sculpted by winter storms. Many are sustained by natural processes — sediment flows, kelp forests, offshore reefs — that take decades, even centuries, to form. Yet all can be destroyed by shortsighted development, pollution, poor coastal planning, or the crush of crowds drawn by Instagram.
One of the gravest threats is the spread of coastal armoring — seawalls, riprap, and other hard structures built to shield property from erosion and sea level rise. From San Diego to Pacifica, cities are fortifying the shoreline, often in emergencies that prioritize rail lines or homes over the natural dynamics of the coast. But seawalls kill waves. They stop beaches from migrating naturally, cutting off the sand supply that feeds our breaks. Their backwash can disrupt wave patterns, creating chaotic, unrideable, and even dangerous conditions. 
Thankfully, there’s precedent for protecting waves. The Surfrider Foundation, founded in Malibu in 1984, is a central force in surf break defense, leading campaigns like Save Trestles — one of the most powerful, successful movements of surfer-led activism to date.
Developers once planned to run a toll road straight through San Onofre State Beach, threatening one of the most pristine, consistent wave zones in the state. Years of grassroots organizing, legal action, and political pressure culminated in Assembly Bill 1426, signed by Governor Newsom in 2020, permanently protecting Trestles from such development. This kind of vision is what we need now — coastal policy that acknowledges the ocean’s constant motion, and embraces alternatives like living shorelines and dune restoration. Ventura’s Surfers’ Point Managed Shoreline Retreat Project proved it can be done: infrastructure was moved inland, dunes restored, and the wave preserved thanks to collaboration between Surfrider, the Coastal Commission, the Coastal Conservancy, and local agencies.
Climate change is already reshaping our surf zones. Stronger storms are eroding cliffs faster than ever. Warming seas are decimating kelp forests, which soften wave energy and nurture marine life. Sea level rise is pushing high tides into places we once thought untouchable.
Faced with these accelerating changes, protecting our surf breaks requires more than local fixes — it calls for statewide vision and policy.
“Coastal armoring is the biggest quiet threat to our beaches, exacerbated by sea level rise,” says Jennifer Savage, California Policy Manager for the Surfrider Foundation. Coastal conservation, she reminds us, is never about a single factor — it’s an interconnected, complex system.
Still, there’s hope on the horizon. AB 452, introduced in early 2025 by Assemblymember Jacqui Irwin (D–Thousand Oaks and herself a longtime Malibu surfer), sought to protect California’s most iconic waves through the creation of state surfing reserves. The bill stalled in committee this year but is expected to be reintroduced next year.
Had it advanced, the bill would empower local governments to identify and safeguard the ecosystems around surf breaks, integrating surf conservation into California’s broader “30×30” goal of conserving 30% of coastal lands and waters by 2030. If passed, AB 452 would establish formal surf reserves at legendary breaks like Malibu, Rincon, Trestles, and Mavericks, making California the first state to legally recognize surf breaks as ecological and cultural resources worthy of protection.
Save the Waves Coalition played a vital role in promoting AB 452, working daily with members of local government and surf industry leaders. O’Neill has been among the strongest supporters, underscoring how both advocacy groups and iconic brands see the urgency of protecting surf breaks for the future.
“We are going to lose waves to sea level rise, placing more stress on the remaining surf breaks, so the need for statewide protection is vital. Waves bring more than just surfing to a community — they also offer a tremendous economic impact,” says Donna Meyers, Save the Waves’ Director of Conservation Impact.
Legislation like AB 452 is a powerful step, but laws alone won’t protect our waves. Real protection also depends on how we treat each other in the water and how we share these breaks as a community.
Surfing’s history is steeped in localism, a long-standing part of surf culture where regulars intimidate or block outsiders from paddling out. I’ve seen it, and I’ve probably even participated in it — but in today’s crowded lineups, localism is outdated and unworkable. There are simply too many people in the water at our iconic breaks. Plus, it’s unwelcoming and unnecessary.
“One of the biggest things we do is educate communities to understand what surfing brings to a city economically,” Meyers says. When the coastal road near Steamers Lane in Santa Cruz was heavily damaged and needed repair, Save the Waves worked with city officials on the West Cliff Drive rebuild to make sure the importance of protecting the surf was part of the engineering. Meyers described it as a negotiation: some battles were won, others lost, but surfers helped ensure the redesign took the coast itself into account.
The truth is, surfing brings people, and people bring money. So, how do we co-exist? As local surfers we need to maintain surf etiquette in the lineup. Lead by example and educate when needed. Take the time to smile, initiate a conversation, and help when a beginner is struggling. This also means reminding surfers to “know their zone” — beginners at advanced breaks only create dangers for themselves and others. Respect surf rules and etiquette. That’s the bottom line.
I don’t surf to escape the world; I surf to connect with it. That connection comes with responsibility — to the waves I ride, the beaches I walk, and the ecosystems that sustain them. Encouragingly, surfers are more politically active than ever: attending town halls, submitting comments to the Coastal Commission, organizing cleanups, fundraising for legal challenges, and teaching the next generation how to be ocean stewards.
“Anyone who loves the beach and ocean has a vested interest in it; we are your voice,” says Savage. “The ocean is the lungs of the planet, and the coastal environment is our primary concern. We are really good at protecting it, so please consider supporting local surf protection efforts.”
California’s surf breaks are beautiful, but they are also fragile. They face threats from armoring, overdevelopment, overcrowding, and climate change. None of these challenges are insurmountable — but they require the same patience, timing, and respect that surfing itself demands. The ocean has always been our teacher. Now it’s time to apply its lessons to how we care for the coast.
If you’re a surfer, a coastal resident, or simply someone who loves California’s natural beauty, get involved. Support local surf-protection efforts. The waves we save today will be the ones our children ride tomorrow.
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Main photo by Dave “Nelly” Nelson
Read more articles by Krista Houghton here.
