An undulating blanket of water rushes down the rocks, pulsing just under the nose of my surfboard. It races beneath me, past the sharp edge of my line of sight, threatening to pull me downstream with it. But some of the water curls into a wave, and as I push up onto the board, it delicately holds me in a brief balance.
I’m in it. Now what?
And then just like that, I’m sucked out of the wave, fighting the whitewater as I swim into the eddy’s safety.
In this landlocked mountain town, the river surges with a different energy than the ocean. No salty waves rolling in from the horizon — just fast-moving water flowing through the valley, past surfers and kayakers lining the shore, nodding and shouting encouragement, all drawn together by the same rhythm of waves.
This moment — the challenge, the thrill, the community — was exactly what we had come for.
For my son Lachlan’s 12th birthday we wanted to give him an experience. Our family had loved learning to ocean surf in New Zealand, Hawaii and California. And so, instead of “stuff” for his birthday, we decided to give him the chance to explore the same thrill in our hometown: A lesson with Zoo Town Surfers who would teach us to surf the Clark Fork’s iconic Brennan’s Wave in downtown Missoula. It would be a gift of frustrating fails and whitewater swimming, but also something exciting and new.
It was June 2022 and the water levels had already dropped for the summer, making it hard to surf. We didn’t pop right up and start carving. Instead, we struggled for a day with our instructor and two more on our own. But, for a few glimpses we found the sweet spot in the flow of our hometown wave. We made a pact to return the following year and surf every day until we got it. We had a lot to learn about river surfing, but what we didn’t realize is how much we’d learn about this cool community of kayakers and surfers.
Missoula is blessed with the Clark Fork flowing through the heart of town. For years, the river was plagued with pollution — the legacy of upstream mining waste. But in recent decades, significant cleanup efforts have transformed the river into a clean and vibrant natural asset, setting the stage for a new era of recreation. In 2006, the river community was further revitalized with Brennan’s Wave, a man-made whitewater feature that honors the life of Brennan Guth. Guth was a prominent member of Missoula’s river community and a world class kayaker who claimed first descents on rivers around the world. When he died kayaking the Rio Palguin in Chile in 2001, his family, friends and the community banded together to build a wave in his honor.
“The town wave is a dance floor, a comedy club, a wildlife sanctuary, a sunset spectacle, a grom nursery, a gladiators’ arena — a place for some tasty waves and a cool buzz. It’s the sinus rhythm of this town’s beating heart.” —Adam Duerk
On a recent sunny afternoon, I sat down in Caras Park, overlooking Brennan’s Wave, to speak with his father and sister about how it all started. David Guth, 82, says he got into kayaking in 1975 with a group of buddies. When Brennan was 10, David gave him a kayak, hoping he would share the passion. Brennan took to it straight away.
“Kayaking kind of captured his imagination and he got in with the heavyweights and was kayaking all over the world,” David said. “And he was so proud to tell people he was from Missoula, Montana.”
In addition to kayaking around the world, Brennan studied philosophy at the University of Montana, co-founded Tarkio Kayak Adventures, and worked for the National Outdoor Leadership School. He cared deeply about environmental issues.
David says the idea for the wave came from Brennan’s vision. Brennan dreamed of removing a dangerous tangle of rebar and concrete from a diversion just below the Beartracks Bridge on Higgins Ave. and replacing it with a functional irrigation structure that would also create two powerful waves for kayaking and surfing.
When Brennan died at 32 years old, David and a bunch of other folks took up his vision, determined to make it a reality. Initially, Missoula City Council was resistant to the project, concerned with potential environmental impacts, maintenance costs, and the project’s alignment with the city’s broader goals. David said they thought it was “crazy.” Nothing came easy.
“We were told ‘No’ basically a hundred times, and 90 of them were, ‘Hell no,’” David joked. “It was basically a miracle that it happened.”
It took a long time to get everything in place, from permits to funding, but the community rallied to honor Brennan. Eventually, they got then-Gov. Brian Schweitzer on board and, shortly after that, hundreds of truckloads of boulders from the Drummond area arrived to reshape the river.
Brennan’s Wave features two waves. Main Brennan’s is situated near the shore of Caras Park and the recently renovated Riverfront Terrace project. Middle Brennan’s is further out, separated from the main wave by a small island of rocks and trees. Each wave has its own personality, and depending on river flows (the volume of water measured by cubic feet per second) they can surf differently. (Kayaks enjoy a slightly longer season on the wave, since they rely less on high river flows.)
Valerie Guth-Boyd, Brennan’s sister, reflected on the monumental effort it took to finish the project in 2006.
“I am so impressed with my dad that he was the catalyst with this — a spearhead that just wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Valerie said, looking proudly at her father. “That’s how I see it. You channeled your grief and made something with a lasting impact that keeps his spirit alive.”
David took a moment’s pause.
“It’s a hole that never heals,” he said. “But it gave me a focus to work for something that was positive, and it took a lot of my grief and focused it on positive energy. And I knew he would have been proud of it.”
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In the early years, Brennan’s Wave was mainly a play spot for kayakers, but then a handful of local whitewater enthusiasts, including Kevin Benhart Brown of Strongwater Surf Shop, started surfing the wave — inspiring a new group of riders.
“I think it’s all been positive,” David said about the evolution of the wave culture. “I know when it kind of switched over to being more popular for the surf boarders, Brennan would have been all for that. He would have been out there trying it, too. It’s drawn more people to the river.”
In our second season of learning to river surf, Lachlan and I became part of that new crew, and we surfed four to five days a week for six weeks straight. We were the two newbies in our life jackets and brightly colored boards struggling day after day. We had a lot to learn, and repetition seemed key. The Brennan’s surf culture took us in, wrapped us in its shared addiction and kept us company as we have flailed, wiped out, nosedived, bucked off the back, bobbed face first through the whitewash, and swam repeatedly into the eddy, only to dust ourselves off and try again.
That’s the beauty of Brennan’s: An entire community and culture has grown from the great whitewater community in our town. Whether you are dropping into the main wave from above or jumping into the waves from the island, you join up with fellow surfers and kayakers and slowly wait your turn to take the plunge. There’s an etiquette. Everybody takes turns. While you wait — in the eddy or lined up on the rocks — there’s a common camaraderie. Nobody is plugged into their phones or distracted by the noise of our modern world. Instead, we’re tuned to the gurgling white noise of the wave. Fellow surfers provide encouragement and tips for those learning and struggling.
In our experience, locals often offered us tips, because surfing the ever-changing river wave seems like striving to do 10 little things just right. If you rip a ride, people cheer, whoop and slap their boards in celebration.
Portraits of Missoula surfers. Credit: Jeremy Lurgio
After two weeks of plunging, my son dropped into Main Brennan’s, found the pocket, popped up and started carving the wave for the first time. On the rocks to his right were four of the seasoned shredders. As he carved a few turns, they all pumped their fists in the air cheering him on, “Yeah, way to go!”
The moment fed my soul. They saw us struggle and improve slowly each day and when we finally took our first carves, they celebrated with us. In this community, people look after one another and they create a positive vibe supporting the collective success of others. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s river surfing, maybe it’s Missoula, maybe it’s the spirit of Brennan. But what I do know is there’s no ego and no attitude. There’s no negative localism on this wave. And in a frenzied and divisive time, maybe this is what we need.
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Now, in our fourth year, addiction has set in. It’s a deep yearning for that flow — that potential ride — and that pulse of the river’s wave. With runoff, hope springs eternal. As the snow melts, an irresistible gravity pulls us to the river. Surfing is all we think about.
For five weeks, Lachlan and I and Lachlan’s friend, Hudson, surfed. Our world revolved around the wave: Wake, eat, work, school, eat, soccer practice, snack, SURF, sunset, dinner, sleep, repeat. The ephemeral nature of this endeavor leaves no time to waste. We surfed in the rain, in the sun and at twilight.
Our best surf of the year came on a rainy cold evening when the water and air temperatures hovered at 49 degrees. After 90 minutes of carving, we got out of the river and to the truck. We couldn’t feel our fingers, which made removing our wetsuits difficult. Hudson looked over at Lachlan with a huge smile on his face. “That might have been our best surf ever!”
As the season came to an end, I sat on the rocks between the two waves and took it all in. The laughs, frustrations, camaraderie, and the quiet moments in between. I thought about how many people have enjoyed this wave. I have deep gratitude that I’ve been able to share this pursuit with my son. We vowed to pay it forward — to bring our best positive energy to the wave, as well as to our lives.
Life is fleeting. and waves are transient. It’s hard for me to imagine losing my son, like David did. But it’s easy to appreciate how this family and our community turned that tragedy into a living memorial to Brennan’s zest for life, water and adventure — a neverending wave we can all enjoy.
