Hawaiian South Shore — June 2026

Everybody showed up. Nobody kept score.

I grew up spending time in Okinawa, in the Nakagusuku area, and I'm telling you — back then that whole stretch was nothing but sugarcane fields. As far as you could see. When the tops started to go white and flower, everybody knew the harvest was coming. And when it was time, the neighbors just showed up. Nobody had to call anyone.

My grandfather was always already there. I don't know what time he got up, but every single morning he was already in the field cutting by the time anyone else arrived. That's just who he was. The others would trickle in — no roll call, no set time — and just grab their tools and find a row and start going. It was understood.

They worked hard. I want to be clear about that. We're talking a couple hours of serious cutting, then a ten minute break — catch your breath, have some water, maybe sit for a minute — and then right back at it for another couple hours until lunch. Same thing in the afternoon. It wasn't a casual thing. But the breaks were real breaks too. Nobody was trying to be a hero about it. You worked, you rested, you worked again. That rhythm just made sense out there.

Lunch was sitting right there in the field — onigiri, some okazu, and always mugicha. That's barley tea, and if you grew up around Japanese or Okinawan people you know exactly what I'm talking about. Cold, slightly nutty, no caffeine. We drank it all day. The adults gave it to the kids too because it's one of the best things you can drink — keeps you hydrated, actually good for your teeth, and it just hits different when you're hot and thirsty. I still drink it to this day. Anyway — lunch, another break in the afternoon, and then you'd finish and go home. Next morning, same thing.

The way they worked

A system that held itself together

One thing I always remembered was how they stacked the cut cane. They'd lay the stalks on the ground going one direction, then the next layer going the other way — kind of like a crosshatch — and keep building it up that way. So when the truck came to collect it, the driver could get underneath the bottom layer and lift the whole stack at once. Everything would come up together. I thought that was so cool as a kid. These guys never had to think about it. They just did it.

What I was watching had a name — yuimaru. In Okinawan it means something like binding together and going around in turn. This week we work your field. Next week we go to the next family. Then the week after that, someone else. You keep rotating until everybody's harvest is done. No payment. Nobody keeping track. Just the way it worked.

When the work was done

Goat stew, sata andagi, and the sanshin going late

And when the week was done — when that family's field was finished — everybody came to the house and we had a party. I mean a real party. There was goat stew that had been cooking all day. Plates of sata andagi coming out hot — those are the round fried sweets, and if you've never had them made with real Okinawan brown sugar I don't know how to describe it except that once you have them that way you don't want them any other way. We'd eat until we were stuffed and then somehow keep eating.

And then my grandfather picked up the sanshin and started playing.

Once that happened, everybody started dancing. Not in any organized way — just moving around, having a good time, the way you do when you've worked hard all week with people you care about and now you're done and there's good food and music. In Okinawa they call that dancing kachāshi. My grandfather played and people danced and it went late into the night and nobody was in a hurry to go anywhere. That's my memory of it. That feeling.

Some of the relatives we stayed with during those trips had the old-style homes too — outhouse out back, and for bathing it was a big metal tub in a separate little room that they'd heat from a fire underneath. You'd step up on a piece of wood inside the tub to keep your feet off the bottom because it was so hot. I remember standing in that tub after a long day and thinking it was the greatest thing ever. No joke.

What stays with you

Nobody needed to be asked twice

I was a kid during all of this. I didn't really understand what I was watching — I just thought it was normal. Everybody helps everybody, you work hard, you eat good, you dance, you go to sleep. But looking back now I realize how rare that actually is. That whole neighborhood moving as one thing. Nobody waiting to be asked. Nobody keeping score.

I think about it more than people probably realize. Especially now.

Summer Reminder

Surf Etiquette — A Refresher Before the Crowds Show Up

Right of way, dropping in, snaking, respecting locals — these aren't just courtesies, they're what keeps the water safe and sessions enjoyable for everyone. Whether you're new to the lineup or just need a refresher, our full guide covers everything you need to know before paddling out this summer.

South Shore Surf Guide Series

Courts

Courts breaks straight out from the tennis courts at Ala Moana, with lefts and rights peeling on mid- to long-period south and southwest swell — conditions that are common through summer. It holds its shape at any tide until it gets well overhead, and it's offshore in the northeast trades all morning. High-performance longboards, mid-lengths, and higher-volume shortboards all work here. Most longboarders are on HP boards with 2+1 or quad setups — the Harley Ingleby HI4 is the go-to for this lineup.