Cori Schu­macher is a young Cal­i­for­nia surfer who just hap­pened to win the Pipeline Pro. But just below the com­pet­i­tive sur­face, she is a pro­found and deep indi­vid­ual. We got the oppor­tu­nity to talk to Cori and take a closer look at that amaz­ing energy.

What was it like grow­ing up in Cal­i­for­nia?
Grow­ing up in California—after being born at home on Cal­i­for­nia Street in Hunt­ing­ton Beach, CA—was all flip-flops, bathing suits and long hair. My par­ents, my sis­ter and I were con­stantly at the beach. There was rarely a time when my bed did not have sand in it. We’d pack my dad’s truck full with surf­boards, long and short, wet­suits, skate­boards, umbrel­las, sub­ma­rine sand­wiches and Dori­tos and hang at the beach all day on the week­ends. We would surf, skate, surf—then walk to 7–11 to buy Slurpees, Charleston Chews, Snick­ers and But­terfin­ger when we would surf Cardiff. When we would make the sum­mer trek to San Onofre, my sis­ter and I would build forts in the bam­boo and search for trea­sures in the bushes.

Dur­ing the week­days, if we didn’t get to the beach, my sis­ter and I would play out­side, chal­leng­ing the neigh­bor boys to games of street hockey or hide ‘n’ seek. One of our favorite games was pre­tend­ing to surf down the cul-de-sac on our skate­boards. I got in trou­ble quite often for not mak­ing it in before the street­lights came on.

When did you get your first surf­board?
My par­ents bought me my first board, a blue and yel­low single-fin soft­board, when I was 5 years old.

What was the feel­ing you had when you first stood on a surf­board?
I remem­ber feel­ing very com­fort­able on my first cou­ple of waves. The first time I caught a “green face wave,” I felt pure exhil­a­ra­tion. I still get this feel­ing occa­sion­ally. I can’t pre­dict when it will hap­pen. It has hap­pened dur­ing con­tests and dur­ing ran­dom surf ses­sions.) But it is a feel­ing that rises in pulses from the base of my spine and curls up over my head. It’s like runner’s high on steroids.

Who did you look up to and admire when you were a young woman?
When I was a young woman, the female surfers I admired most were Rell Sunn, Lisa Ander­sen and my mom, Jean­nette Prince. I also had a thing for Jane Austen, Helen Keller and Mary Lou Ret­ton. I loved and looked up to my father, Craig Schu­macher, as well and soaked up every­thing he said and did, whether it was con­struc­tion, phi­los­o­phy or surf-related.

As my world expanded beyond school and surf­ing, I began to incor­po­rate role mod­els from out­side of surf­ing, women like Glo­ria Steinem and Maya Angelou, who rose above soci­etal bar­ri­ers with their own unique recipes of grace and courage. I had, and still have, a weak spot for tor­tured artists, so I rav­en­ously con­sumed books by and about Sylvia Plath, Anne Sex­ton and Arthur Rim­baud. I found Walt Whit­man and The Beats sat­is­fy­ing beyond rec­om­pense and devoured, over and over, their shared dharma—bums though they were.

To this day, women and men who chal­lenge the sta­tus quo, and dare to step beyond the lim­i­ta­tions estab­lished by their peers and society-at-large are those I admire most; specif­i­cally those who under­stand that black and white vision eclipses the rain­bow of diver­sity that is the promise of change. What can come of embrac­ing change but knowl­edge? Those who dare embrace change, or who are them­selves change, are those I want at my hearth, shar­ing sto­ries with me when the night falls.

What was it like to win Women’s Pipeline Pro? How did you pre­pare for it?
Win­ning the Pipeline Pro was a tremen­dous moment in my life. There are a lot of nerves going when you have to surf a con­test. Mul­ti­ply this by a wave like Pipe and the ten­sion was nearly too much to bear. Every morn­ing we would wake early to surf before the event started, only to be told that the con­test would be held off. The wait­ing period seemed to go on for­ever. The ten­sion would build, then I would have to find some way to release it. Run­ning, yoga, rock climbing—anything to release the buildup of energy.

There have been few moments in my life where I have com­mit­ted so utterly to some­thing out­side of myself. I trained for months before this event, harder than I have trained in my life. Don­ald Takayama shaped me a spe­cial board that I ended up lov­ing. I surfed a bunch in Aus­tralia before head­ing to Hawaii and was lucky enough to get a cou­ple of really large days under my belt before they ran the con­test. I also had a good crew of peo­ple sur­round­ing me (Maria Cerda, Ash­ley Lloyd and Leah Daw­son) who were inte­gral to the health of my emo­tional and men­tal landscape.

Of all the places you have trav­eled to, what place in par­tic­u­lar stands out and why?
The one place that stands out the most is Tahiti. My dear friends, Kelly Sloan, Jaime Lagardere and I went on a surf trip when we were 17, 14 and 16, respec­tively. This was our first big trip away from home. We went to Tahiti first and stayed with local host fam­i­lies who had kids who also surfed. While Jamie had it made in a home with win­dows, doors and hot water show­ers, Kelly and I ended up being lodged in homes that had no win­dows, mildewy mat­tresses and cold bucket-showers. But it didn’t mat­ter. We surfed in the rain, ate bizarre chunks of meat and avo­cado the size of our heads. We drank too much Tahit­ian jet fuel (giv­ing me the first hang­over of my life but not the worst—that would be a week later in Indo), got stung by sniper mos­qui­toes and met our first transsexual.

It was the best trip of my life. Not only was I with my two dear­est friends, but we were embed­ded in the lives of these peo­ple for nearly a week and a half. No one could speak each other’s lan­guages, but some­how we man­aged to learn the worst pos­si­ble Tahit­ian and French words in either lan­guage. Jamie, Kelly and I still some­times greet each other using pro­fane ver­nac­u­lar from that trip. Every­one cried when it was time to leave. It didn’t mat­ter what we did or didn’t have in the homes we stayed in; it was about the rela­tion­ships we formed while we lived with our Tahit­ian families.

Who/what inspires you?
I just met a woman today who described her­self as ter­mi­nal. She had me laugh­ing so hard my sides felt like they were going to split. We got to talk­ing about love, respect and admi­ra­tion. Why is it that those who know how short life is, because they or a loved one is brushed with death’s shadow, are the ones who have the courage to say that LOVE is more impor­tant than any­thing? I am inspired by those who reach beyond their own per­sonal com­fort zones to stand up for LOVE.

LOVE is still a rev­o­lu­tion, regard­less of our evolution.

What is the great­est thing you have learned in your life?

The time will come
when, with ela­tion,
you will greet your­self arriv­ing
at your own door, in your own mir­ror,
and each will smile at the other’s wel­come,
and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your­self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love let­ters from the bookshelf,

the pho­tographs, the des­per­ate notes,
peel your own image from the mir­ror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
—Derek Walcott

Do you have any regrets or wish you had done some­thing dif­fer­ently?
I regret wak­ing late upon the day my heart felt safe enough to return home.

What are you most proud of?
Wak­ing from a 10 year slumber.

What mean­ing does surf­ing hold for you and how has it changed your life?
I don’t remem­ber a time when surf­ing and the ocean haven’t been in my blood. My mother surfed until she was 8 months preg­nant with me. I have joked that “I just don’t under­stand land people’s ways.” I have taken some hia­tuses from surf­ing, but even in these times, I could feel the ocean mov­ing deep within me, direct­ing my thoughts, my emo­tions, my per­cep­tions. Rid­ing waves, under­stand­ing in my sinew and bone how energy moves, being able to tap into the momen­tous emotional/mental/physical unity that surf­ing demands is my world­view, my ideology.

The act of surf­ing is, in itself, a dance of union, a human act that binds, for one moment, finite indi­vid­ual with infi­nite energy. My father’s father used to say that using “a surf­board was for pussies,” that real surfers were the ones out in the water rid­ing waves like dol­phins. He used to take my father out into the ocean when he was a boy, in the pitch black of old Mex­i­can nights. They would surf blind to all but the feel­ing of the energy of the ocean and waves on and around their bodies. I walk through life feel­ing energy around my body like water, blind and deaf to the sur­face of things, con­scious of the rise and fall of human emo­tions, aware of the larger tidal surges that sur­round me in the sea of human­ity. There is only ocean. There is only surfing.

What brings you the most hap­pi­ness in the world?
Some days it’s good music, good food, good friends and laugh­ter. Other days I am most happy immersed in thought, read­ing or writ­ing noth­ing­ness to nobody.

Who are some of the peo­ple you feel are shap­ing the path for surf­ing today?
I def­i­nitely see Linda Ben­son shap­ing a path for women long­board­ers. I am really pay­ing atten­tion to Kelly Slater these days. I am inter­ested to see what comes of his new tour ideas. On the other side of things, guys like C.J. Nel­son and the City­Fog Surf­boards crew are push­ing noserid­ing beyond. And never count that Tudor cat out; he’s always got some­thing up his sleeve.

What is in your cur­rent quiver? What is your favorite board? Your favorite surf spot?
My cur­rent quiver con­sists of three Don­ald Takayama boards, one Ash­ley Lloyd design and one Simon Ander­son thruster. My cur­rent favorite board is buck­led in five places. It is a superlight epoxy comp board that Don­ald shaped. It is one of his rounded pin­tail, 2+1 noserid­ers with a lit­tle extra rocker. I have rid­den it to death, from Hawaii to Ocean­side Har­bor. My Ash­ley board is a dead even tie with this one. It is a sin­gle fin, bio­foam log she calls “The Speed­sti­cle Series I”. I am in love with this board. My favorite surf spot cur­rently is O’side Har­bor, though I surf the camp­grounds in Encini­tas just as often.

What’s your favorite meal?
A huge, home­made tossed salad. I throw every­thing I can find over a bed of organic greens, includ­ing, but not lim­ited to: arti­choke hearts; corn; green onion; beets; car­rots; broc­coli; bell pep­per; sprouts; gar­banzo beans; quinoa; chicken or tuna; almonds; wal­nuts; cran­ber­ries; goat cheese or Tillam­ook ched­dar; ranch and/or greek dress­ing. My sal­ads are mas­sive and could feed small countries.

What are you cur­rently lis­ten­ing to on your iPod?
Right now, I have a bunch of PJ Har­vey, Saul Williams, Tool, A Per­fect Cir­cle, The Knife, Ladytron, Doves, Met­ric, The Dead Weather and Griz­zly Bear on repeat.

What are you most grate­ful for?
I am most grate­ful for what surf­ing has brought into my life. From per­spec­tives on life and liv­ing to friends and expe­ri­ences, my life would not be the richly diverse, vagabond road it has been if not for surfing.

What’s next for Cori Schu­macher?
I’d like a nice cup of tea.

More infor­ma­tion about Cori Schu­macher can be found here. All pho­tog­ra­phy by Maria Cerda with the excep­tion of child­hood pho­tos by Jean­nette Prince.