For so many of us, Pohoiki isn’t just a surf break — it’s childhood summers, salt-sticky hair, dads backing up trucks with boards rattling in the bed, musubis on the tailgate. It’s where we learned to read sets, read the ocean, read each other.
And even after the lava changed the shoreline — and after the recent dredging attempts stirred up memories we’re still sorting through — Pohoiki remains this place we carry in our bones. A place that taught us resilience, community, and what it means to love somewhere so much it hurts a little.
For the generations who grew up there, and the ones still learning its story.