Eddie would go. You've seen it on bumper stickers in Honolulu. You've seen it on t-shirts in California. Maybe you even saw it on a mural in some random coastal town in Australia. It’s one of those phrases that has been meme-ified and marketed to the point where the actual man behind the myth—the real, breathing, fearless human being—sorts of fades into the background of a cool aesthetic. But here’s the thing: The legend of Eddie Aikau isn’t about a catchy phrase. It’s about a sacrifice that still haunts and inspires the North Shore of Oahu nearly five decades later.
Eddie wasn't just a surfer. He was the first official lifeguard at Waimea Bay. Think about that for a second. In the 1960s and 70s, before jet skis, before modern radio communication, and before sophisticated flotation vests, Eddie was the guy who ran into 30-foot walls of water to pull people out. He saved over 500 lives. Not a single person died on his watch.
He had this quiet, heavy presence. He didn't need to shout to get respect. He just did the work.
The Day the World Stopped at Waimea
The North Shore in the winter is violent. It’s beautiful, sure, but it’s mostly just raw, terrifying energy. Most people see the highlights on Instagram now, but back then, it was a frontier. When the big swells hit, the ocean literally shakes the ground. People who grow up in Hawaii talk about the "thump" you feel in your chest when a set closes out at Waimea.
Eddie thrived in that. While everyone else was paddling in, he was paddling out. That’s where the phrase actually comes from. In 1986, years after Eddie passed, the organizers of the Big Wave Invitational were debating whether to hold the contest because the waves were so dangerously large. Mark Fu looked at the conditions and simply said, "Eddie would go."
He wasn't just talking about surfing. He was talking about a mindset.
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But to understand the legend of Eddie Aikau, you have to look at 1978. That’s the year everything changed. Eddie was part of the crew for the Hokule’a, a double-hulled voyaging canoe meant to retracing the ancient Polynesian migration route between Hawaii and Tahiti. It was a matter of cultural pride. It was about reclaiming an identity that had been suppressed for a long time.
They left Magic Island in Honolulu on March 16, 1978. They sailed right into a storm.
The canoe capsized about 12 miles south of Molokai. The crew was clinging to the hulls in the dark, freezing and exhausted. They were drifting further into the channel, away from the islands. Eddie, being who he was, couldn't just sit there. He convinced the captain that he could paddle his surfboard to Lanai to get help. He took a lifejacket and his board and paddled away into the abyss.
The rest of the crew was eventually rescued by the U.S. Coast Guard. Eddie was never seen again.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Search
People often think the search for Eddie was a quick affair. It wasn't. It was the largest air-sea search in Hawaiian history at the time. They looked for days. They found his lifejacket, but that was it. Honestly, it’s one of the most tragic "what ifs" in sports history. If he had stayed with the boat, he would have lived. But if he had stayed, he wouldn't have been Eddie Aikau.
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The tragedy solidified his status as a folk hero. He became a symbol of Malama—taking care of others—and Kuleana—responsibility.
It’s easy to look at the "Eddie Would Go" contest (The Quiksilver in Memory of Eddie Aikau) as just another sporting event. But it’s not. It’s arguably the most prestigious event in surfing because it hardly ever happens. The rules are strict: the waves have to be at least 20 feet (Hawaiian scale, which means 40-foot faces) for the contest to run. Since its inception in 1984, it has only been held ten times.
When the "Eddie" is called on, the entire island of Oahu shuts down. Traffic on the Kamehameha Highway backs up for miles. People sleep in their cars just to get a glimpse of the bay. It’s a religious experience for the locals.
The 2023 "Eddie" and the New Guard
The most recent running in January 2023 was a perfect example of why this matters. Luke Shepardson, a full-time city lifeguard—just like Eddie—won the event while he was actually on shift. He was literally rotating between competing in the biggest waves in the world and sitting in the lifeguard tower making sure people didn't get swept off the beach. You couldn't write a better script. It brought the whole story full circle. It proved that the spirit of the man is still embedded in the sand at Waimea.
The Nuance of the Legend
Let's be real for a minute. We tend to sanitize our heroes. We make them into statues. But Eddie struggled too. He dealt with the complexities of being a Native Hawaiian in a place that was rapidly changing, being commercialized, and moving away from the traditions he loved. He felt the weight of his ancestors.
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His brother, Clyde Aikau, who is a legend in his own right, often talks about how Eddie wasn't looking for fame. He was looking for a way to honor his people. The Hokule'a trip wasn't a stunt. It was a mission. When he paddled away from that capsized canoe, he wasn't trying to be a hero; he was trying to save his friends.
There is a specific kind of bravery that involves knowing the odds are stacked against you and moving forward anyway. That’s the core of the legend of Eddie Aikau. It’s not about the waves he rode; it’s about the fact that he never hesitated when someone else's life was on the line.
Actionable Insights for the Inspired
If you're moved by Eddie's story, don't just buy a sticker. There are ways to actually engage with the history and the culture he represented.
- Visit the Waimea Bay Memorial: If you ever find yourself on Oahu, go to the rock memorial at Waimea. It’s not flashy. It’s quiet. It’s a place to show respect (Ho'okupu).
- Support the Polynesian Voyaging Society: The Hokule’a is still sailing. They are currently on a multi-year voyage around the Pacific called Moananuiākea. You can follow their journey and learn about traditional wayfinding, which is what Eddie died trying to preserve.
- Learn Ocean Safety: Eddie’s primary job was safety. If you’re a surfer or a swimmer, don't be "that person" who ignores the warnings. Respect the power of the water. In Hawaii, we say "When in doubt, don't go out." It’s ironic considering the slogan, but Eddie only went because he had the skills to back it up.
- Read "Eddie Would Go" by Stuart Holmes Coleman: If you want the deep, non-internet-summary version of his life, this is the definitive biography. It covers the political and social climate of Hawaii in the 70s, which is crucial context.
- The Eddie Aikau Foundation: They do incredible work with youth programs and maintaining the integrity of Eddie’s legacy. Check out their archives for real photos and stories from the Aikau family.
The ocean has a way of humbling everyone. It doesn't care about your bank account or your social media following. Eddie Aikau understood that better than anyone. He treated the sea with the respect it deserved, and in return, the sea made him immortal. Whether the contest runs this year or not, the "Eddie" mindset is something anyone can carry—the idea that when things get heavy, you step up. You go.