The revolution, when itcame, was not a popular uprising. Digital graphics, computer imaging, 3-D animation—rather than breakthroughs, these developments in surfboard production were widely viewed as the beginning of the end for what had always been a hands-on cottage industry. "A lot of people saw the machine as a threat," says Eric Arakawa, "to the essence and soul of building boards."

The marquee shaper for Hawaiian Island Creations, Eric saw only possibilities in the exactitude and efficiency of what became known as CAD, or computer-assisted design. Eric began shaping boards when he was a teenager in the ’70s; he shaped tens of thousands the old-fashioned way, wrestling with slabs of foam, relying on elbow grease to impose his vision. "It all comes down to what works," says the forty-five-year-old North Shore guru, who inherited his meticulousness from his father, a Pearl City aircraft mechanic. "I don’t know how many boards I poured my heart and soul into that didn’t do anything in the water."

Seven years ago, he got his first edition of SurfCad software. Suddenly, he could alter the critical components of any board—the rocker, the vee, the foil, the rails—to within tolerances of 1/100th of an inch. More importantly, he could repeat or edit his designs as often as he wanted, without having to start over from scratch. "The whole goal is to be better than you were the day before," says Eric, who was named "shaper of the year" in 2003 by Surfing Magazine. "You can get inspired, you can go crazy, you can do your once-a-year concept board. On the screen, it costs nothing."

From within his office—behind the sign that says, "Please...NO DUST past this point"—Eric turns his .srf files into .cut files, which are sent electronically to a mechanical saw at the other end of the shop. It takes only a few minutes for the routing bit to carve up a blank wedge of foam, then a few more for one of Eric’s apprentices to buff out the rough spots by hand. Each design is saved on a floppy disk, thousands of which fill locked file drawers. "I call him Encyclopedia Arakawa," says Chris Gallagher, one of the designers on Eric’s staff. Most of the disks contain the schematics of the all-purpose models that every shaper churns out for the retail market. But Eric is probably best known as the custom shaper for Kaua‘i-born superstar Andy Irons, winner of the last three World Championship Tours. "At that caliber, they’re so hyper-sensitive, they can actually feel what’s going on under their feet," says Eric, soft-spoken and self-effacing, whose logo incorporates the Christian fish symbol. Asked what he does to keep Andy as a client, Eric answers: "Whatever he wants."

Every surfer of that echelon is chasing the same Holy Grail—speed and maneuverability—which, due to certain laws of nature, happen to be contradictory goals. As a general rule, the flatter the curves of a board, the faster it will ride; the more bend and bow to it, the better it will handle. To bridge the difference, Eric makes boards so light and fragile they are almost "like glass slippers," says Matt Yerxa, another of Eric’s protégés. Even when Eric and his crew come across a perfect fit, one they want to replicate over and over, there will still be almost imperceptible variations in how those models interact with the water. If Eric were to create forty identical boards, Andy might pick only two. "It’s an intangible thing," says Eric, "like building a Stradivarius."

The difference now, unlike in the hand-tooled era, is that Eric has more time to devote to that quest. "I can be more intimate, more precise, with my customers," he says. "People thought we were taking away the soul, but it’s actually been just the opposite.