There’s this funny thing that happens when people talk about early foils. Almost everyone smiles first… and then immediately says, “Yeah, but they were terrible.”
Both things are true.
Old foils felt fun because they were slow, inefficient, and kind of dumb—in the best possible way.
They didn’t want to glide. They didn’t want to pump. They didn’t want to run down the line. So you stayed close to the wave. You stayed honest. You had to surf the energy that was right in front of you, not the energy you hoped would show up later.
And because everything happened at lower speeds, your inputs mattered more. A little roll of the ankle, a subtle weight shift, a slightly earlier turn—those things actually showed up in the water. The foil wasn’t smoothing anything over for you. It was just responding.
That made them feel nimble. Even if, objectively, they weren’t.
A lot of that “fun” was really just accessibility. You weren’t managing a big speed range. You weren’t trimming constantly. You weren’t thinking three sections ahead. You were reacting, moment by moment, inside the pocket. It felt more like surfing and less like flying a machine.
As foils evolved, efficiency crept in—and with it, a different experience. More glide meant more options. More speed meant longer lines. Suddenly you could connect things that used to be impossible. That’s obviously better… but it also changed the relationship.
Now the foil wants to go. It carries energy. It rewards planning. It asks you to be cleaner, calmer, more intentional. You’re not just surfing what’s happening—you’re managing what’s coming next.
That’s where some people feel the nostalgia. Old foils didn’t ask much of you. They didn’t punish you for being late. They didn’t amplify mistakes at speed. They let you be messy and still feel like a hero.
But here’s the quiet truth: the fun didn’t disappear—it just moved.
Modern foils didn’t kill that playful feeling; they stretched it out. Instead of a few magic seconds in the pocket, you get minutes of flow. Instead of one turn that felt amazing, you get a whole sequence that links together. The joy shifts from surviving the wave to composing a line.
And depending on the day, your mood, or the wave… you might miss either one.
That’s why this conversation keeps coming back. It’s not about old versus new. It’s about what kind of feedback loop you want with the water:
Immediate and raw… or extended and refined.
Neither one is wrong.
They’re just different flavors of fun.