Brenden Margieson

To paraphrase F. Scott Fitzgerald, there are no second acts in pro surfing. Surfing has always been rooted in youth, or preoccupied with it, depending on your perspective. The sport first took hold with teenaged Baby Boomers in post World War 2 America, and ever since the surf industry has disproportionately focused its energy on younger generations. John John Florence, the defending men’s world champion, first appeared in surf magazines when he was still in his single digits; and defending women’s world champion Caity Simmers doesn’t turn 20 until later this year.

 

The flip side is pro surfing is a hazardous occupation for anyone nearing thirty, or god forbid, on the wrong side of it.

 

In this context, Brenden Margieson breaks just about every rule of pro surfing physics. He is north of fifty years old and gets paid to surf. Margieson finds himself back in surfing’s zeitgeist after spending two decades away from the spotlight, a position that is probably unprecedented in a sport known for having a very short memory.

 

Margieson’s tale is as inspiring as it is unlikely. Superficially, it is about surfing and his skill in the water, his trademark power still lively after all these years. But Margieson’s return to pro surfing has much more to do with the universal struggle to find the best version of ourselves and let it out into the world.

 

By his own description, Margs was a late bloomer. By the mid 90s Margieson was a star in both his native Australia and the US, whether it was a starring role in Wanderjahr, a profile film directed by close friend Justin Gane; or a memorable string of appearances in then-sponsor BIllabong’s films, such as The Occumentary. Margieson was one of the lucky few pros who wasn’t expected to compete in contests. Instead, his sponsors paid him handsomely to travel the world and surf wherever and whenever the waves were good.

Surf careers are nothing if not fickle, and an ill-fated attempt at transitioning to a desk job in his early 30s suddenly left Margieson in the lurch, with no sponsors and no real plan for how to handle life after waking up from the pro surfing dream. “It was a lonely time in my life,” Margieson says. The so-called industry friends who had been in ready supply when things were going good were suddenly nowhere to be found. Margieson’s marriage crumbled, and he sank into a deep depression.

It is easy to gloss over stories like these, especially when we know there is a happy ending, or when the tales are experienced second hand. But for Margieson it was an incredibly difficult stretch, and a long one, too. For seven years he worked as a baggage handler for Qantas at a nearby airport; the same airline that had ferried him to many all-expenses-paid international surf trips when he was at the height of his fame. There was a year where Margieson reckons he surfed only once or twice; a small but somehow poignant indication for any committed surfer that perfectly illustrates the seriousness of his condition. “It’s kind of amazing he’s with us,” Justin Gane says, reflecting on the tumult of this time.

The crawl back is, like so many other things, more about the unremarkable small steps rather than one cinematic epiphany. “At the end of the day it’s up to yourself to get out of it. It took me a long time to learn; a couple of years to re-find myself and dig deep,” Margs says. During this time he relied on Justin Gane, who moved nearby to help, and was going through a difficult physical rehab himself.

Margieson began surfing again, with no expectation around restarting his pro surfing career, but with the sole purpose of rekindling his connection with the ocean. One wonders if the purity and simplicity of this intention set the stage for everything that came next.

During Covid, Margieson happened to be living in the same apartment building as photographer Dan Scott, and the two met during a chance encounter in the elevator. Scott had dreamed of being a surf filmer since a teenager, and along the way he figured he’d likely never work with Margs, not just because of his legendary status, but also due to the rumors that Margieson was no longer surfing. But before long, the two began filming together. Scott recalls Margieson coming home from work, covered in foam dust after spending the day gluing up surfboard blanks, and then the two would film in the evenings. For Scott, the process was clearly a labor of love. “Getting footage of a single snap of Margo’s just carried so much more weight than twenty clips from some random up-and-comer,” Scott says. . A clip of a simple yet striking cutback went viral. It was proof that Margieson wasn’t just a nostalgia act, a beloved holdover from an earlier era, but someone whose approach remains timeless. “I give full credit to Dan,” Margieson recalls. “He saw potential.”

Meanwhile, Scott was also working with Album, filming with Album team rider Asher Pacey. During a trip to Oz, Scott, and Album founder Matt Parker were hanging out and the topic randomly turned to Brenden and his surfing. Scott made an off-hand comment about how Margieson was in the market for some new boards. The remark inspired Parker, and upon his return to California, he quickly shaped three boards for Margs and sent them to Australia. A clip of Margs riding one of the boards, a 6’3” Bom Dia Model, took off on Instagram. It was the start of a relationship that continues today, and what began as a sponsorship has clearly become a much deeper relationship for all parties. Album and Margieson’s collaboration now includes two models: the Vesper, named after a species of bat that Margs encountered while helping out with some ecological conservation research; and the Delma, named after a lizard that lives in one of his favorite parts of Australia.

Album Surf // Vesper Explained

Margs’ work with Scott and Album has been a key part of his return to pro surfing. And for all the importance of the support of the brand and the people behind it, Margieson’s resurgence is inextricably tied to his mental health journey. He speaks with a hard won wisdom, a man who has emerged from difficult times with peace and clarity. Margieson says patience and making sure he’s doing things for himself, and not for others, are perhaps the biggest lessons he’s learned over the past few decades. It is evident in his surfing. He surfs with an unhurried and relaxed confidence that can only come from navigating challenging times. Margs’ surfing isn’t the same, of course — he notes it’s harder to get as vertical as he used to, especially on his backhand — but his power and style are undiminished.

Over the past few years, Margieson has embraced so-called alternative shapes after a lifetime on standard high performance thrusters. Finding ways to push his Album shapes to their limits and put them on rail is “the most exciting bit” of this current phase, per Margieson.

Most of all, it is hard not to interpret the arc of Margieson’s surf career as something karmic; reassurance that the universe is, in fact, working in our favor, and that good things happen to good people. Margs radiates gentleness and humility — a fascinating contrast to the forcefulness of his surfing — and when speaking to those close to him, it’s clear that he is beloved for reasons that go much deeper than his cutback (which is, of course, as sharp as ever). Those closest to Margieson couldn’t be more thrilled that he has found his footing after years when that outcome was in serious doubt.  “If you surf, you love the way Margo surfs. And if you spend time with him in person, you just love him. He’s like everybody’s big brother and little brother at the same time,” says Parker.  “I’ve never seen him happier,” longtime friend Gane says. “And he healed me as much as I healed him.”

Stripped to its core, Margieson’s story is one of the grueling, winding path one must walk in order to truly find oneself. Margieson’s journey is notable because it is the kind of undertaking that cannot be delegated or dodged. And it appears Margs’ peace of mind has been earned the hard way, by looking within and confronting the uncomfortable truths that appear, and then going about the demanding and unglamorous work of building himself back up, one long day at a time.

A few months ago, Margieson found himself in California on a surf trip with the Album Surfboards crew, returning as a pro surfer. In a parking lot about an hour south of San Francisco, a random man approached and asked for a picture. It was a moment that brought everything full circle: a testament to the lasting appeal of Margieson’s surfing; but even more notable, evidence that the journey within can take us further than we often realize is possible.

 

Written by Henry Knapp