There’s an old myth in surfing: the first one who bombs a new site gets to name it. That’s cool, right? So, let’s break down what it takes to name a spot
The Naming Game
Surfers are many things—wave chasers, glorified nomads, spiritual beings on decks of epoxy or foam. But if there’s one thing surfers love more than the glide, it’s naming rights. Beaches. Breaks. Rocks. Even that greasy spoon in town where everyone gets their €12 post-surf avo toast. Names give identity. They grant status. And they gatekeep.
Names carry weight. When someone says “Chicama,” you think endless lefts. “Teahupo’o”? Consequences. “Snapper Rocks”? A hundred dudes dropping in simultaneously and still somehow stoked. But behind every slick, surf-mag-worthy name is a story—some mythic, some stupid, some born in the back of a Hilux pick up after a week of warm beer and no showers.
Birth of a Name: The Best (and Worst) Origin Stories
Let’s break this down. There are roughly five ways a surf spot earns its moniker:
- Geographic Literalism: Think “First Point”, “South Side,” “Beachbreak Left.” These are the IKEA shelves of surf naming. Functional, boring, instantly forgettable. Still, they work. Nobody’s confused.
- Descriptive Danger: “Shark Alley,” “Graveyards,” “Wipeout City.” These names tell you upfront that this wave wants to mess you up. Useful when paddling out hungover.
- Local Lore: “Rincon,” “Lowers,” “Cloudbreak.” Names handed down through generations, some linked to language, some to history, all with the kind of cool that can’t be manufactured.
- Inside Jokes Gone Too Far: A lesser-known but vital category. Case in point: “Chicken’s” in Sri Lanka, named not after the wave’s cowardice factor but the nearby chicken farm. Similarly, “S–Turns” in the Mentawais comes from a literal bend in the road. This genre is a melting pot of humor, dumb luck, and sometimes absolute genius.
- Flat-Out Lies: “Secrets,” “Mysto Point,” “No Name.” Usually named by locals to keep you away or by visiting frothers trying to seem cooler than they are. “Oh, you haven’t surfed No Name yet? It only breaks on purple moons when the tide’s at 2.37 meters.” Sure, bro.
Real-Life Examples That Deserve a Beer
Take “Supertubos” in Portugal. It’s not subtle. It’s not poetic. But it’s exactly what you get—super tubes. A wave named like a power tool, and just as violent. Then there’s “The Wedge” in Newport Beach. Another wave that doesn’t beat around the bush—it wedges, it launches, and then it breaks your board (and possibly your spirit).
Or let’s talk “Skeleton Bay.” The name alone is metal, conjuring images of shipwrecks and bleached bones in the sand. Spoiler: it delivers. A 2km left that barrels like it’s trying to clean the skin off your bones. No joke, the name adds to the allure—nobody’s calling it “Long Lefty” and still scoring a cover shot.
And then there’s “The Box” in WA. Short. Ominous. Like something you find in a horror film attic. It’s named after a boxy slab that jacks up on a ledge like it’s got a personal vendetta. The name is the experience.
Naming game in Malta:
Besides the pronounced spots like GT, for Ghajn Tuffieha, Golden Bay, or St Thomas Bay, Malta has some curious names. Geography tends to dominate, but we’ve gor some cool ones too, promise.
Marley’s stands out: named as it is close to a restaurant called Marley’s, serving traditional rabbit dishes, Fenkata nights – a must for visitors!
Fajtata: once again, named after a nearby kiosk that served us with excellent Tuna Ftajjar before shutting. Yes we can spot a trend here, we love to eat!
Our upcoming new generation has applied some more fun to the logic of naming. Names like Testicles, which has a right nut and a left nut, are floating about, Mango, Tango, LA, Nuns, Gaddas,
The older generation used names like Desperados and Apostles, too… but we’re not gonna reveal where these spots are, sticking to the code.
The Politics of Naming
Here’s the kicker—naming isn’t just about fun. It’s about power. Once a spot has a name, it’s on the map. Maybe not Google Maps yet, but it’s in someone’s brain. And that means the countdown has begun: to the first photoshoot, the first article, the first Instagram tag with a geotagged location (bless your sweet, clueless heart, Timmy).
Some spots are cursed by the name. They blow up too fast, too loud. “Uluwatu” was once sacred and secret; now it’s got more warungs than waves. “Desert Point”? Good luck getting a wave when the Bali-to-Lombok ferry unloads 300 frothing tourists.
And then there are the quiet rebellions. Locals who refuse to name their home breaks. Or worse—name it something intentionally misleading like “Shitpipes” (which is actually a sick little right in Costa Rica). Their logic: keep it ugly, keep it secret.
The Sacred Art of Naming (and Protecting) Secret Spots
Ah yes. The secret spot. The holy grail of surf culture. It lives somewhere between fiction and folklore. Everyone’s got one. Everyone’s heard of one. Few have actually surfed them without a local in the car and a six-pack of peace offerings.
Naming a secret spot is like naming your firstborn. You want it to be meaningful, unique, and preferably hard to spell. It might be a reference only your tightest crew gets. Maybe it’s a nod to a surf trip injury (“Broken Toe Point”), a memory (“Hangover Left”), or just a way to throw outsiders off the scent (“Moose Knuckle,” a spot in Newfoundland).
The golden rule? If it’s truly secret, don’t say the name in a crowd. Don’t write it on a blog. And if you must post it on Instagram, crop the damn horizon. No rock features. No recognizable points. Bonus points if you geotag it “Waffle House.”
When a Name Backfires
Occasionally, names turn on their creators. Remember “Cyclops” in WA? A slab so mutant it doesn’t even look real. That name added so much hype that people showed up with paddleboards and GoPros, only to realize it’s a dry-reef deathtrap. One guy cracked his ribs trying to bodysurf it. It’s not a wave; it’s a career-ender.
And then there’s “Disneyland,” a playful little name for what locals thought was a mellow left in Indonesia. Turns out, when the swell hits, it’s more “Saw VII” than “Finding Nemo.”
Final Thoughts (and a Challenge)
Surf spot names are more than labels. They’re signposts to culture, to history, and sometimes to war. Naming is claiming—but it’s also exposing. The second a name catches on, the wave’s fate changes. So think before you speak. Or better yet, name it something so dumb no one ever repeats it.
If you’ve got a secret spot you want to protect, here’s the formula:
Ugly name + obscure reference + no GPS = longevity.
Because once it’s “Disco Nipple Left,” no surf mag’s putting it on the cover, besides us.
You got a better name story? Keep it to yourself. Or write it on a napkin and burn it. That’s how the real ones stay secret.
