In a macho culture dominated by localism, they're fostering inclusivity for LGBTQ+ surfers

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Set us as preferred At age 14, Glen Walsh started surfing because of a crush.He was a boogie boarder until the object of his adoration told him, “What are you riding that for? You should be surfing.

Get a surfboard.” So, he did.“I was terrible at it, but I kept going.

I was super persistent.”That resilience proved useful.As a gay teenager in Santa Monica, Walsh was often called slurs on the Venice Pier.

“You think you’re like a unicorn — a weirdo,” he says.He felt at odds with the local surf community.

To Walsh, surfing was “super straight, very hypermasculine, very intimidating.” Yet his love of the ocean — and sure, crush-worthy surfers — kept him returning to the water.“I wanted to be around them, and surf with them,” he says.When Instagram launched in 2010, Walsh began posting one of his early loves — only this time, it was morning surf conditions.

Every morning, before surfers paddled out, the longtime Venice resident described swells, winds and surf conditions to his followers, becoming for some the town’s trusted surf chronicler.His videos combined informative dispatches with the laid-back vibe of surfer ASMR.“Light offshore wind.

Clean, glassy barrels,” he declares softly to the camera as gray waves break behind him.“Lumpy close-out with hollow barrels with low tide, fam.”At first, the account functioned like a group chat for local surfers.

“Friends were asking me how the waves were, and I was texting them.I figured I’d jump on Instagram and start doing it for them,” says Walsh, who has been a Venice resident for 15 years.What began as a practical update for a handful of friends eventually attracted followers in London, Berlin and Tokyo — people who checked in daily to see whether the surf was firing in Venice Beach.

The account has amassed over 10,000 followers, i...