Imagine what it was like to paddle alongside these legends.

I got a text from a friend: "Hey Yates, I referred a paddler from my team. He could be great."

A movie started playing in my head, a highlight reel of extraordinary athletes who had crossed my path over the years.

First came Mike Stock, the Kailua Boy, a serious surfer with raw talent that couldn't be contained. As a junior in my Psych class at Punahou, he made a bold announcement that changed his life: he was leaving school to try out for the Olympic Kayak Team. His dedication paid off – he made the team by simply outworking everyone else in sight.

The movie accelerated into a collection of Ocean's finest athletes: Men and women, seniors and juniors, teams and individuals. Each possessed the rare ability to push beyond exhaustion and surge even harder. They instinctively lifted their teammates at crucial moments, their energy radiating from their hearts and producing immediate results. These athletes embraced pain, mastered their skills, and elevated everyone in the boat.

But the definition of "Hammah" reached new heights with Mark Sandvold. Mark was more than just strong and fast – he was a force of nature. His leadership was magnetic, his competitive spirit unmatched, and his dedication absolute. As a world-class paddler, Mark didn't just live up to the term "hammah" – he redefined it. His legacy lives on in every paddler who strives to make their teammates better, who pushes through the pain, and who leads by example.

The Making of a Hammah:
A Tribute to Mark Sandvold

Some of this entry appeared in blogs in September and October 2018

The Beginning

The title of "Hammah" isn't just given – it's earned through extraordinary character and determination. In his final days, Mark Sandvold didn't just define what being a 'Hammah' meant; he showed us through his actions and spirit what it truly takes to deserve such an honor.

I first met Mark in his senior year at Punahou. He had been hired to appear in a commercial that, unfortunately, was scheduled during one of his final exams. The money he was offered to film that commercial surfing on the North Shore was hard to resist.

After finals were over, I was walking across campus when we literally bumped into each other. As we embraced, he picked me up in a bear hug and exclaimed, 'Yates, I'm in big trouble – they're going to kick me out of school!'

After an intense appeal process, Mark was allowed to graduate, though he wasn't permitted to walk with his class in the final ceremony.

Twenty Years Later

Twenty years later, I was walking through a crowd on the beach at the Outrigger Canoe Club when we bumped into each other again. As I spun around, Mark called out, 'Yates, it's me!' Without missing a beat, he picked me up just like old times.

My New York sense of humor kicked in and I said, "If you had been this big in high school, you would have wrestled in the unlimited class."

Bad move on my part. The next day he called and asked if we could meet. Sitting face to face, he said, "You really hurt my feelings yesterday. I'm in treatment for cancer."

The weight of those words hit me hard. Along with feeling horrible about my thoughtless remarks, the sadness of his situation was unbearable.

Just then he asked, "Will you be my coach?" The next six years we worked together as he went through extreme pain, at times agony, and became the most humble person I've known.

Awareness

Mark was the definition of Hammah, an ocean athlete who loved to battle while taking care of his team in the process. He was strong in the water and loved to push the limits of what was possible. In the final chapter of his life, as he lost his strength and endurance, as his breathing became compromised, he continued to battle. In this way, he taught all of us close to him what it truly means to be a Hammah: to be present, mindful of what's important, and focused on nurturing his spirit – the one element he could still control – all while dealing with constant pain and discomfort.

Mark used his spiritual awareness to transcend the physical challenges that confronted him at the end of his battle.

Acceptance

When Mark asked me to be his coach, what he really wanted was to improve his ability to love his family and friends and become a better coach himself. Mark simply loved people, and they loved him back. As an athlete, he knew how to use his breathing to settle down and then operate at any level of intensity when needed. As a son, husband, father, brother, and friend, he learned to breathe so he could better listen and interact with the people he loved. In the end, the elite athlete who loved to battle became the humanist who wanted to teach principles and change the lives of those he cared for. Whenever we were alone, no matter how much pain he was in, he always asked about my family and me.

When I gave Mark praise, his only acknowledgment was that signature move – the twitch of his eyebrows.

Make Good Decisions

The Hammah became a Loving Man with a Huge Heart. Mark's performance profile was that of a free spirit. He was extremely creative and emotional. His scope of life contained all the things he wanted to do, and he had a huge need to be free to do exactly what he wanted, when he wanted to do it. When engaged and inspired in his favorite activities, he was at the top of his game. When he wanted to focus, he could do a "Molo" crossing at age 16 – the bull in the making. With age came maturity, and he learned to take on responsibilities while maintaining his passion for all the activities that became his life. In a word, Mark was about passion and the ability to express it.

What Mark leaves me with is a burning memory of how hard he battled for six years to live, to love, and to learn how to be a spiritual being when that was all he had left.

Legacy

In the end, Mark Sandvold showed us what it truly means to be a Hammah. It's more than being the strongest ocean athlete who could sit up in rough seas and confidently announce, "Follow me, boys – I'll lead us home." Being a Hammah means having the courage to keep battling when the waves of life crash hardest, to continue finding new ways to love even when your physical strength fails. It means leading not just through power, but through spirit and grace. Mark led us home one final time by showing us that true strength lies not in conquering the ocean, but in touching the hearts of those around you, even in your darkest hours.

"Mark's greatest legacy wasn't just how he dominated the ocean as an athlete, but how he taught us to face life's toughest challenges with grace, humility, and an open heart. His final message was beautifully simple yet profound – the words he lived by until his last breath: 'Love... Love!’ ”

Being a “Hammah”

Here's some tips for being a "Hammah." click HERE:

That's HiLevel!