In Queens, local surfers are moulding a neighbourhood in their own renegade images

The largest urban beach in the United States is a 170-acre spit of land with a seven-and-a-half mile stretch of ocean. The neighbourhood and coast share the same name: Rockaway Beach. The roughly 13,000 people who live in this seaside cut of Queens represent one of America’s least-discussed surf breaks. It’s where many New Yorkers ride their first waves. Queens’s Anthony Bourdain and Action Bronson boogie boarded there through a snowstorm. Between Memorial and Labor days, the beach is blown out. No matter, as veterans paddle out at 5am year-round. 

It’s a prime example of a surf area that is less destination and more ecosystem. And that ecosystem requires sustenance: restaurants, bars, and cafes to keep everyone nourished. Eugene Cleghorn, owner of Rockaway’s Super Burrito, says even when it’s slow in January, he keeps the lights on. ​“If there’s a good swell, our business swells,” he says. ​“There’s been a massive boom of surfing in New York.”

This cohort is responding to that very real increase of surfers. As Stab reported in 2019, surfing has gone big business, with many legendary brands now owned by private equity. Rockaway has slowly and surely gained more boards in the lineup. But locals pointed to Covid as a moment when their small-ish break, known to be accessible for beginners, began to see new kooks in the water. 

That tracks: data firm Statista predicts an 80% market growth between 2025 and 2032. Not to mention New York City itself, somehow, keeps growing; Brookings finds Manhattan is rebounding from its peak pandemic population dip. Once the platonic sleepy surf spot, Rockaway is poised to keep ballooning.

What feeds it is this tight-knit network of eateries and dives. Cleghorn’s restaurant is on the break of Beach 69^th Street. When the swell is big, he calls in extra staff. When there are 4ft to 5ft waves and clean conditions, customers come in right when the business opens at 11am. ​“This was not always a neighbourhood people went to,” Cleghorn says. ​“That’s a big credit to the guys from Locals.”

Locals is a surf school and collective just next door. This business – a hybrid café, clothing outlet, and surfboard storage space with more than 200 lockers – looks to welcome in the beginner surf population.

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It’s owned by the two Mikes. There’s Mike Reinhardt and ​“Kook” Mike Kololyan, two homegrown NYC surfers sometimes referred to as the ​‘Mayors of the Rockaways’. They also own one of the most legendary bars in the area, Connolly’s. This bar looks copy-pasted right from a surfing movie, studded with framed portraits along the wood walls and slushy piña coladas in hands left and right. When the owner of more than 30 years decided to sell, he sold it to the Mikes.

Tracy Obolsky, owner of Rockaway Beach Bakery, knows a bit about that surf-business owner balance. She first surfed Rockaway in the mid-2010s. She drove out from Brooklyn with a friend. Giant, rusty metal pipes welcomed them to the lonely break. Sitting on her board, she could hear not just the rumble of the subway, but the iconic bong bong, please stay clear of the closing doors. ​“It was wild looking,” she says. ​“When you think of surfing in New York City, it really feels like surfing in New York City.”

She started surfing out here and found several events, groups, and beach clean-ups welcoming her. After her sessions, she’s found at Rockaway Tiki Beach, Beach Surf Club, and Batesys to name a few. That’s all between her apartment and her bakery, also known as the 25 block radius she doesn’t leave for weeks at a time through the summer months.

It’s this entire community that’s bolstered the food and drink world in Rockaway. Numerous sources highlighted the revitalised Rockaway Beach Boardwalk and its myriad businesses keeping the community fed. In 2012 Hurricane Sandy took a major toll on the coast. In the aftermath, eateries including Rippers Burger Shack, Low Tide Bar, and Caracas Arepa Bar helped rebuild. These were some of the early players in making the food and drink of the ​’60s blocks as cool, or cooler, than other chunks of Rockaway. 

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Zachary Krieger, a longtime surfer on the peninsula, has run Washed Up for about 14 years. It’s a pop-up café that sees surfers finish their sessions and flock over through the summer. Dawn patrol is common at Rockaway like any other break – that’s when surfers clamber to get out as early as possible for pristine faces on those silvery breaks – and Krieger opens early for those stalwart few. On Friday nights, Krieger cooks burgers. Sometimes guest chefs come in, too.

That said, it’s a seasonal industry. Washed Up closes from the beginning of December until the following May. For years Krieger hustled through the off-season, bartending and pulling shifts at other restaurants, even managed cafes for a high-end fashion brand. His stand is well-ensconced enough now he can take the time off, relying entirely on that surf boom.

Tacoway is also open seasonally. Keeping in gritty spirit, it runs out of a shipping container at Beach 87^th Street. They serve fried fish tacos, maybe one of the most surfer-coded meals in existence. This business is also one-half of those responsible for major parties that sweep the area each year. Connolly’s and Tacoway each throw annual fiestas, and surfers get their brews and bites back-to-back through the sweltering summer months. ​“There’s like a battery of surfer party vibes in the summer,” Cleghorn says. 

Not everyone is into the bigger surf community. It’s cliché: this spot is for locals, what do you think you’re doing flopping into my wave? There are personalities in the area, too, who claim being from Rockaway when, really, they’re from somewhere else. In surfing parlance, that’s an even bigger no no than usual. 

Krieger says it’s a distance away until Rockaway gets the full Greenpoint or Williamsburg treatment. And the business community is happy to have the traffic. He highlights Almeda Club, a business part-clubhouse, part-surf shop, part-café and part-tutoring center in the area. It demonstrates the next generation of businesses coming up that’s Rockaway-born-and-bred, offering food and surf alike. Owners Joe Falcone and Graham Hill aim to make sure underrepresented populations, like kids who can’t afford tutoring for instance, have a place in Rockaway. 

From Almeda Club to Super Burrito and back, the service industry and surf communities in Rockaway remain enmeshed. In September, a DIY, invite-only surf contest called Prince of the Peninsula takes over the beach. Waves get big, folks get barrelled, and Cleghorn brings burritos out to the shore. So he’s less surprised than he used to be when he sees a 40% spike in revenue year over year on particular days. It’s almost always the waves. ​“There are still enough people in New York City who throw on their wetsuits in the middle of December,” he says. ​“And I think that’s cool.”

Paolo Bicchieri is an associate editor at Eater. Follow him on Instagram.

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