A self-described delinquent youth who followed his dream to become a professional surfer now finds himself at the center of a movement to protect Amami Oshima’s coastline and surfing culture. Patagonia’s short documentary film, “Totoganashi,” tells the story of former bad boy surfer Yusei Ikariyama and the community that has joined his efforts to protect the diverse ecosystem and natural riches of their island home. Outdoor Japan spoke to Yusei about his journey and the short film.
What was it like growing up on Amami Oshima?
I was born on the thinnest part of Amami Oshima in a village called Akaogi that sits right between the Pacific Ocean and the East China Sea. I grew up playing baseball in this small village and our team was strong, despite having few members.
The first year of middle school I tried bodyboarding, but then switched to surfing when my classmate’s uncle, a legendary local surfer, lent me his old beat-up surfboard. Soon I was going to the beach every day on my bike, surfing from morning to night and keeping that old board hidden in the woods near the beach. I was always hungry, so I would catch and eat some fish. In winter I’d dig up some potatoes from a nearby field and roast them, which sometimes got me in a little trouble.
My first surfing competition was the beginner class of a local event. By my third year of middle school I was doing really well locally so I decided to enter a competition outside Amami for the first time—the Western Japan Championships in Miyazaki.
I knew if I kept playing baseball I wouldn’t have time to surf, so I decided to quit the team. It was a big problem at the time—the principal called me in and people were pressuring me to keep playing because there were few players. But I was determined to make it in surfing. I quit and entered the competition, making it to the finals on my old worn-out board and finishing in fourth place.
Since I quit baseball, no one—my parents, my school—was paying much attention to me, so I started working part-time to make money to go to more competitions. I used to remove rust from piping in a sugar factory, scouring out the big cauldrons. You had to be tiny to get in them—and I was. It was pretty scary, but the money was good, so I did it.
I was going to surf contests all the time and didn’t have any interest in high school. My parents and teachers told me I had to go, but I was never actually there, I was always working or surfing.
Is this when you started getting in trouble?
Look, twenty-five years ago, all the older guys in surfing were bad boys. So from a young age I drank alcohol, smoked cigarettes, surfed and was scared of those older guys. There was bullying, too, that’s the kind of world it was. I got caught drinking and doing some other things. I didn’t go to school, I worked in construction, collected mozuku (seaweed), worked at a dirty izakaya and various other jobs.
I didn’t have much money, but I went to competitions with the money I made. My results improved and I won at the Western Japan Championships and the National Championships. I was seventeen and good enough to get invited to the World Championships in South Africa, but I didn’t have enough money to go. I did have enough to get to Hawaii for the first time, however, and when I saw the surfing level there I was shocked.
I took a break from surfing after that trip. I lived in Osaka and other places doing heavy scaffolding, which was dangerous work. I didn’t think I would be able to go back to surfing, but when my sponsor called I decided to give it another shot. I really focused on surfing again, and gradually I worked my way back.
Why did you return to Amami?
I lived in Miyazaki where I trained and competed, but I wanted to be with my girlfriend, so I came back to Amami to be with her and get serious about a surfing career. I was living my dream, but I knew I needed to face reality and get a proper job in surfing. So, a few years later, I opened up a surf shop in Amami.
How did you get involved in environmental activism?
After my shop opened, I also was involved in bringing the WSL World Championships in Amami for a couple years. Just as that was finishing up, there was a proposal to build a seawall at Tebiro Beach, my home surfing break.
The ocean at Tebiro is incredibly beautiful. I’ve been around the country to surfing competitions and everywhere there are seawalls and tetrapods, the water gets murky, it smells and the sand is pitch black. I never imagined a seawall would be built here—at my home point in Amami—but someone wanted to do just that. I knew I needed to take action to help stop it.
I had good relationships with locals and the town hall at that point, so when I heard about it I reached out to surfer friends around the country and started a petition to stop it. I held discussions with the people in the village and collected about 3,000 signatures from all over the country, and together we were able to prevent the seawall construction.
Was this a turning point for you?
When I was young, admittedly, I was a mess. Everyone hated surfers, they were seen as delinquents in my hometown. But I realized if we were all able come together and hold an international competition that helped revitalize the area, which we did, and if we could gain people’s trust and protect the coast from construction, then those accomplishments are more important than winning surfing competitions.
That’s why I decided to stop competing. Also, when you’re away from home, you don’t have the connections and the flow of information to do much for your village. I realized the most important thing is to leave something for our children and try and connect our memories to their future.
So I started to seek out companies that cared about the environment and would support efforts here in Amami. I knew Patagonia was serious about protecting the environment, so I sent a handwritten letter to them and asked if they’d work with me. I’ve now been a Patagonia ambassador for about ten years. I founded NEDI, a non-profit organization, to do things more formally. We just started, so it’s really just me, one other board member and a part-timer.
What is the danger to Amami Oshima today?
When you drive along the coast, you see scenery that has remained unchanged since ancient times—but there are more and more resort hotels being built. When construction happens, the local red soil inevitably ends up in the ocean, killing coral and fish. There’s issues with supplying water, and handling the runoff from toilets. I think that even the local people have not yet fully realized just how serious this is.
What would you like to see happen in Amami?
People compare us with Okinawa, and many of the resort developers are from there, but Okinawa and Amami are completely different. Amami has its own unique culture, with plants and creatures that only exist in here and a beautiful sea. If everyone on the island understands the need to grow in a sustainable way, then the people who open hotels will able to continue working into the future.
Tourism is good, but for me, it’s more about the lives of the local people and about education, locals and mainlanders learning about the ocean and the environment here. I’d like to see us as a model for long-term, sustainable development.
I like the idea of adventure tourism, because experiencing nature with your body is really important. If I experience and feel nature, I understand the importance of it. But at a resort you are just looking down at the beautiful scenery from a big, expensive hotel room, visitors don’t feel it as deeply, really understand the value of it.
How would you describe Amami surfing culture?
There are waves all year round in Amami, unlike the eastern part of the Pacific Ocean. Many surf spots are more for advanced surfers, so perhaps not as beginner-friendly. I personally like big waves, so surfing those big, beautiful waves is attractive. As far as the culture and the scary old days, all us surfers have been tangled up in a lot of things since then, so I can say that a lot of the “nasty old thorns” have been broken down, and the culture has become softer, more well-rounded.
Part of what makes surfing or diving, special is that we must be in tune with the natural flow of time, we are at the mercy of high and low tides. You can’t always do what you want. It’s bigger than us.
What should every first-time visitor do in Amami Oshima?
(Laughs) First you should drink kokuto (sugar cane) shochu, eat sashimi and delicious food made with local ingredients. If you can, experience a traditional festival and rokucho dancing. I always think first about food and nature, but the people are a big part what makes Amami special—everyone is so kind. Come have some food and drinks with locals, relax on the beach and let time pass by, listening to the sound of birds and the Amami waves….
Patagonia Films’ documentary short “Totoganashi” follows Yusei’s evolution from pro surfer to the founder of NEDI, a non-profit named for the space where the ocean intertwines with the land. Inspired by the local saying, “One fight bleeds for three generations,” he realizes that to keep this shared coastline healthy, he must first unite his community.
Watch on YouTube at: youtu.be/Ato7K30fVhA?si=qUBwJpSWh9Gz4LTB
