A Japanese Wave Pool Experience

"It looks like Pipeline."

"It's breaking like Shark Island."

It used to be that, when comparing one wave to another, we reached to other ocean-breaking waves. Yet we’ve arrived at an interesting point in time where natural, ocean breaking waves are often compared to those created artificially in a pool.

"It's doubling up like a wavepool."

"It's perfect as Slater's Tub."

With this in mind, on a recent trip to Japan I stumbled upon a lefthand setup that was a spitting image of URBNSURF.

The discovery came following a quick scan of Google Maps in search of a location to escape the prevailing cross-onshore wind. It didn’t take long until I spotted a perfect breakwall, extending hundreds of metres offshore into the Pacific Ocean while still being open to most east swell energy.

'The inside beach will be sheltered from the wind,' I thought to myself, but little did I know that the breakwall itself would offer a wave.

When my partner and I arrived at the beach we could see swell lines hugging the length of the wall, starting from well beyond the surf zone. Surprisingly, some of those swell lines broke when approaching the halfway mark, still a good two hundred meters out from the beach proper.

Was it just a fat lump of swell surging along the wall, or a legitimate wave away from the otherwise busy beach?

On closer inspection we couldn’t believe our eyes.

Approaching swell lines would effectively hug the wall creating an aesthetically pleasing sine wave outline as the lumps of energy ran towards the beach.

While most breakwalls reflect the energy of incoming waves, forming a wedge close to shore, the more upright structure and associated local bathymetry allowed this wave to break much further out from the beach. It also broke tight against the wall. 

This is where the wave pool comparisons come in, with the take-off being immediately next to the wall, followed by the wave running directly alongside it. A part of me was expecting to hear the machine kick in as waves approached.

Due to it breaking further out in deeper water the wave is generally fat after one to two turns. However, the bigger double-ups did a better job of hugging the wall, it was also possible to link a few turns and take it all the way into the beach.

After a long one it was possible to walk back to the takeoff, watching the swell lines lifting and falling some metres below as the following surfers got their waves.

The entry was reminiscent of my early surfing years in Adelaide, jumping off the metropolitan jetties into gale-force, storm surf. While not particularly high, the jump at low tide isn’t inconsequential, especially if it's mistimed and you land in the trough of a set. Add in brown water, an industrialised sea bottom of unknown depth, and it makes it all the more exciting.

In the water, the breakwall extends much higher than most wavepools, giving a boxed in feeling while staring at the weedy, barnacle-covered cement pylons.

Being Japan, concrete and construction is everywhere and when I heard a constant jack hammering sound while from the surf, I immediately thought that was the source. Instead, the swell lines moving up and down and around the pylons made compression sounds just like a jack hammer, adding to the artificial environment.

Much like the wave pool, everything calms down between sets, but anticipation builds when a set approaches as the sea level drains and surges with the approaching energy.

Looking at the history of the breakwall design in the area, it appears to be one of surfing’s happy accidents, created to keep the local harbour sand free but providing an additional surf amenity to the local boardriders.

Novelty wave it is, but after surfing it on multiple tides and swell size I'd rate it better than most wavepools.