THE WOLF
Who’s your favorite surfer? Kelly Slater? That seems rational. After all, he is the king. Dane Reynolds? Of course. How could you not fall in love with his weirdness and overall surfing prowess? Jordy, Jules, Occy, Steph or Curren? Sure, all incredible surfers vying for your favor. I love all of these stars, but none of the aforementioned names are my favorite because Josh Mulcoy sits atop my podium. That’s right. Josh William Mulcoy.
What? Never heard of him? Have you been stuck under a rock for the last 25 years? I’m talking about the longest running professional free-surfer on the planet. I’m talking about the kingpin of Santa Cruz. The prince of the Midtown! His dad, Bill, of course takes the reigns of the king. All hail! But it’s OK if you’ve never heard of him. He’d probably prefer it that way.
You see, Josh Mulcoy, or Mulcs, as those close to the man refer to him, is a full-blown smoke-bomber. He’ll tell you he’s going somewhere and then disappear to a locale far, far, away from said loca- tion. He’ll paddle out at dark and already be done with his session when you’re driving to the beach for dawn patrol. While you’re planning your yearly surf trip to Hawai’i, Mulcs will be in a dark, cold, punishing corner of the globe getting spit out of tubes all by his lonesome.
He’s a wolf: Always there, but never seen. And he’s kind of a grump. And by grump, by no means do I mean a scrooge. He’s one of the most generous humans I know. But he’s definitely grumpy and I like that about him because I’m pretty ill-tempered as well.
Shoot, if you’d seen as many changes in the wor- ld of surf as he has, you’d probably be irritated too. Mulcs is pretty much the Fort Knox of secret spots around the globe, but a lot of the spots he held close to his heart have been trampled on and thoughtlessly exploited over the years — which can take its toll on a man. Take the Santa Cruz harbor (no explanation needed) or his adopted ho- metown of Tofino, BC for instance. Once a quaint fishing village with year-round waves and few sur- fers, Tofino was pretty much a lottery ticket find for Josh. There’s a handful of beaches right there in town that have consistent surf and even more world-class waves just a boat ride away.
For somebody that doesn’t mind the cold, can you imagine what exploring the nooks and crannies in and around Tofino must’ve been like when he first visited in the early 2000s? Paradise! But in recent years, Tofino has been given the not-so-subtle title of “Canada’s Surf City”. You think that helped keep the crowds at bay or what?
“Hell with ‘em,” he’d say as he suits up in the dark while you’re still sleeping. And that’s what makes Josh, Josh. He just does his own thing. He doesn’t call photographers and videographers to docu- ment his every move like most professional sur- fers do.
In fact, he doesn’t call anybody to do anything. He likes being alone and being left alone and that’s why it means so much to me to be his friend. A man like Mulcs doesn’t let just anybody into his circle of trust. He’s quite wary of humans and es- pecially those in the surf industry which makes complete sense after his dad, Bill, has been stabbed in the back by more than one industry professio- nal through the years. But that’s a story for another time.
Let me just say that while I’ve painted a picture of a grumpy man that might be holding onto the past, I did so on purpose. I don’t want to tell you about all the laughter, jokes, adventures and picture-per- fect waves we have experienced together over the years. I haven’t told you about his sweet side and how he consoled me when my father passed. I ha- ven’t told you about how precious it is to see him and his wife Kate raising Vivian and Maddox, two future grumps for certain. And there’s a lot more I won’t tell you and he’ll appreciate that.
Because if I told you more, you might be inclined to reach out to the man. Maybe you’d ask him for some advice on secret spots. Or hell, you might want to write a story on the fellow. Well you can forget about that. I’d never subject him to such a thing.
Mark McInnis
