Not too long ago, I sat on the terrace of the Tawala Hostel in Imsouane, Morocco. It had become a sanctuary for me. I would not call myself it, but, I am a digital nomad.
The ensuing destruction of the small village I never thought would happen. But if I did think about it, could realistically envision. I can’t help but question my advocacy.
…
The rhythmic pulse of the ocean, the roar of the waves, and the thrill of riding the tide have made surfing a powerful cultural force, captivating the hearts of enthusiasts worldwide. However, beneath the surface of this seemingly idyllic lifestyle lies a complex narrative of change, as the influx of surf tourism brings both joy and devastation to local communities, particularly those situated in economically underdeveloped countries like Costa Rica, Sri Lanka, Bali, and Morocco.
Surfers, drawn by the promise of unspoiled beaches and perfect waves, often find themselves in remote corners of the globe, seeking a connection with nature and an escape from the hustle and bustle of urban life. As I was. Yet, as the popularity of these destinations grows, so does the impact on the delicate ecosystems and the communities that call these places home.
I was lucky enough to call Morocco home for two months. Experiencing what local Moroccans have for decades; I ate tagine, drank copious amounts of mint tea, and surfed the Atlantic coastline. I met some of the most fun, intelligent, and open-minded travelers. Many I still keep in touch with and have even connected with after. I told my friend via instagram dm when debating a trip back to Morocco:
Swear my soul was born in Imsouane
To which he responded:
Swear. Seriously
This attraction, this paradise, is turning into a magnet for surf tourism. We were, no doubt, a part of surf tourism. Of course, while respecting the culture and region. Renting boards, taking a few lessons, smoking cigarettes and chatting with the instructor. Yet, it’s hard to detach myself from the guilt I feel when I see Imsouane’s current state.
One comment says, “The Beginning of the End. Call somewhere ‘paradise’ and watch it die of success. Bali, Santa Teresa, etc etc …”
The sudden surge in visitors, fueled by the surf, often puts immense strain on the local infrastructure and environment. The very allure that draws surfers to these destinations becomes the catalyst for a destructive cycle, as the delicate balance between nature and community is disrupted.
Traditional ways of life can be upended as locals are forced to adapt to the demands of the tourism industry. Small-scale fishing and agriculture, once the backbone of these communities, are often pushed aside in favor of souvenir shops, surf schools, and luxury resorts. As the waves of tourists flock, the cultural fabric of these communities is eroded, and the authentic charm that attracted visitors in the first place begins to fade.
Beaches that were once pristine are now littered with plastic waste, and ecosystems that sustained local livelihoods are disrupted. The delicate balance of marine life is threatened as surfers inadvertently contribute to the depletion of resources, unaware of the repercussions their presence may have on the environment.
Here I could preach about sustainable tourism. Maybe I should. I am conflicted. It feels like promoting anything sustainable these days is Sisyphian at best and cynical at worst. What’s preventing western tourists from polluting the places they go to the same levels of pollution as where these tourists originate. 50 Germans, Australians, and Americans doing a pick-up-trash-on-the-beach walk at 3 pm every Tuesday helps, but not enough.
I am not against sustainable, responsible tourism. Seeing the effectiveness of current climate change and sustainability efforts does not make me optimistic that a weekly trash walk will solve a regions environmental issues — as caused by tourism. I am not sure of the solution. Maybe through a collective commitment to sustainability and cultural respect can we ensure that these new waves of change leave behind a positive legacy, rather than washing away the fragile beauty that once defined these enchanting coastal paradises.
Or maybe, I just want the waves to myself.
Michael, The Experiment 