When we first started towing in at Peahi, in the early nineties, I knew there was no way the world couldn't catch on. It was too incredible. But in the last couple of years, it's just exploded. You've got guys flying in from all directions, five guys on a single wave. Sure, this kind of thing happens whenever someone discovers a new spot. But this isn't four-foot waves at Malibu. This is different. It's Jaws. It's Peahi. It's a monster. We have to bring things under control.

I don't think the new jet-ski licenses are going to be enough. For example, you've got a license to drive a car, but can you drive a fuel truck? Peahi is like hauling around a tank of nitroglycerin. Ideally, I'd like to see the surfers take care of this themselves. Surfing traditionally has a pecking order, with the established guys getting priority and the rest watching and waiting for their turn. But with all the money and glory at Peahi, the cash bounties for the biggest waves, that system has broken down. I don't like the idea of rules in surfing, because rules will always go to the lowest common denominator, to the guy who is doing the most irrational things. But maybe people should just start getting tickets—if you mess up, you're not legally allowed to come here anymore.

In the end, though, the ocean will have the last word. It's like with Everest in Into Thin Air. The mountain did something that woke people up, and now there's better organization and communication there. I'm just hoping we can take care of that before Peahi does.