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“Barneys Act Like I Spat on Dane’s Baby!”

Derek Rielly

by Derek Rielly

What it feels like to burn Dane Reynolds at Seaspit, Santa Babs… 

Oh, there’s been a ton of waves in California, dazzling outstandingly beautiful waves. Do you like the sessions filmed at Sandspit, that lil drainer next to Santa Babs harbour that was formed in 1929 when the breakwall was built?

If you watch this clip (by the fabulous norwell9) below you will see it in undeniable form.

Even better, at the one-and-a-half-minute mark, you’ll see a goofyfooter drop out of the lip onto Dane Reynolds. It is a game of the cat versus the mouse, Reynolds stiffening his muscles as the surfer completes his drop-in, and later waving his arms in protest.

I could care less but random barneys act like I fucked his chick and spit on his baby or something…just a minor little head high grinder…he got plenty better waves than this that day. Should’ve seen the other things that happened out there…way gnarlier. Even saw a bodyboarder and another pro roast Bobby on a real set wave…now that’s heavy.

Do you wonder who the surfer is? Do you wonder of the circumstances?

Let’s ask Chucky aka the_rig, whom I engaged on Instagram.

“Yeah it was a great moment it ‘s even better that I blew it after…I love it. I have an epic photo of it…and I have no business pigdogging small waves shoulda surfed somewhere better without 100+ guys out. The glare was super bad looking up the point, some guy yelled “go”, he knew I didn’t see him and he got over it and stopped crying pretty quick…there’s a ton of groupies that had their panties up their ass over it…the wave is small not like I roasted him at 10ft pipe…I could care less but random barneys act like I fucked his chick and spit on his baby or something…just a minor little head high grinder…he got plenty better waves than this that day. Should’ve seen the other things that happened out there…way gnarlier. Even saw a bodyboarder and another pro roast Bobby on a real set wave…now that’s heavy. Hey…at least I’m not Sean Penn hahahahaha.”

It’s a brilliant story. Do you have more?

“Some people love it, some hate it, and it’s El Niño so everyone that actually surfs has been getting good waves all week and forgot about it instead of looking at the Internet all day. I just happened to notice it between absolutely scoring today. Dane’s cool he’s probably had more than a few good laughs since…super minor.”

Did Dane remark on the event?

“He was snapped, just like anyone in the world would be initially…but when we squashed it 30 seconds later he knew it wasn’t intentional and was cool…said it was all good and no worries. I surfed for 2 more hours.”

Live: Da Hui Backdoor Shootout!

Rory Parker

by Rory Parker

With commentators spitting fire into the mic!

The second day of the 2016 Da Hui Backdoor Shootout is ON!

The surf is pumping, the boys are ripping, Rocky Cannon and Kaipo Guerrero are back spitting fire into the mic.  The only thing funnier than what they’re saying is how angry some of it is making the uppity online haole types.

There’ve been some beautiful moments already, with Mason Ho throwing down an insane cross-step floater and air droppng into two inches of water at Backdoor during the first heat, and Makua Rothman taking an asshole puckering ride over the falls backwards during the second.

Fuck your job, tune in and enjoy.

Jobs: Surf Snowdonia is Hiring!

Rory Parker

by Rory Parker

Do you live in Wales, need a job, and are okay that you might be laid off at a moment's notice?

Do you live in North Wales, desperately need a job, and are okay with the fact you might be laid off at a moment’s notice?

Then send your resume to Surf Snowdonia, the much hyped wave pool park that’s been cursed with mechanical breakdowns, received middling reviews, then got a firm kick in the balls from Slater’s recent reveal. They’re re-opening soon, and because they fired their entire staff a few months back, they need to restock their supply of warm bodies.

Apply here. 

How is Surf Snowdonia, from an employee’s viewpoint?

I recently spoke to some former staff to find out. (Without exception they asked to be quoted anonymously because, in one individual’s words, “Can you keep my name out of it? North Wales is fairly small.”)

The seasonal workers weren’t too happy, but fuck them, right?

The nature of seasonal employment dictates that you toss people away when they’re no longer needed. Sure, you may do it a few months earlier than planned, but who cares about disposable labor?

“The rest of the park was planned to stay open through winter, but when the machine stopped working, no one came, not even for the kids play area”

“I’ve had nothing but trouble with my manager and the payroll clerk since I started.”

“No warning. We understood that the bar and restaurant would stay open even when the surfing lagoon closed for the winter. The app message came as a big surprise to me. I worked the Monday with no suspicions. .. Tuesday I was told by app.” 

“I found out about our redundancy before I was told by the bosses, and even then we were told via phone app.” 

Firing everyone via smart phone app is pretty low class, the business equivalent of dumping your hook-up via text. But it’s so streamlined, how could an employer resist?

All they need do is force everyone to install Deputy and the necessity of delivering bad news face to face becomes a thing of the past.

What’s it like working there?  I’m glad you asked!

“Surf Snowdonia paid me well considering I’m only 18 not many companies would pay £6.50 an hour“

“we had numerous complaints about it being so expensive, about most things being expensive actually, I was reluctant the whole time to serve people at the till, because of the prices” 

“The prices of everything in that place were ridiculously high and a lot of people were bummed about the hype, the red bull weekend worked out a treat, but other than that, it never seemed like it was doing what it was supposed to, we as a company just weren’t delivering what was set out to do.”

“I feel massively let down by them there’s no doubt.“

What about the permanent positions?  Sure, they’re gonna kick the part time kids to the curb, but at least the people hired under permanent status have job security, right?

“I was on a full time contract, there were at least 3 others in the [removed] on supposed full time contracts. I can think of at least 9-10 people on so called all year round contracts. A lot of us wouldn’t of taken the job on casual contracts. Never!!”

“My partner went there after leaving a job of 5 years. 4 weeks later we are both out of work! Not good, no loyalty & no integrity. “

Unfortunately, the local economy is in the shitter, and life’s cruel realities dictate you often take work you don’t want. A man’s gotta eat. 

So will you be competing with previous employees for positions? It would appear not.  Despite the fact that “the village of Dolgarrog is a pit! When the factory closed down the village was on its arse & now the place looks so much better for having SS there,” many have decided to try their luck elsewhere.

It would take an awful lot to make me even think about it. More money for sure,lol. plus a seriously iron clad contract if such thing exists! I very much doubt it.” 

“I won’t be going back, as most of the previous staff will not be.”

“No doubt, I would think some of the villagers will boycott it next year.” 

To be fair to Surf Snowdonia, not everyone feels the same way. At least one former employee is likely to re-apply, though not for the greatest of reasons.

“I don’t think many would go back, but do you know what? I would because this sort of thing happens in every firm over here, and I don’t find it easy to get employment. Employment with an appreciative firm is a pipe dream.”

Bold: The greatest surf town on earth?

Chas Smith

by Chas Smith

Tijuana, Mexico beacons! Will you heed her call?

I am sitting, right now, in a very soft recliner. The marble floor, under my feet, has just been mopped by a woman wearing a navy blue apron and the exotic fish, swimming in a giant wall tank, seem vaguely pleased.

I am in Tijuana. And I will tell you that every time I come south of the border, to TJ, I am thrilled beyond. Many surfers, of course, quickly skirt the city on their way to Baja surf but I don’t understand why they don’t stay awhile. There’s surf here, too, right under a giant bull ring! But there is so much more! Tijuana, you see, feels like a film set. Oh, you’ve seen the movies, no? Pictures detailing the wild times of Mexico’s cartels. Sicario, Once upon a time in Mexico, Meet the Millers, etc. Shootouts in the street, Federales speeding around in dark pick-up trucks, fun.

The Tijuana Cartel ain’t what it once was, having been smashed to bits by the more robust Sinaloa gang, but I tell you this…you can feel the energy on these dusty streets. It absolutely pulses! Not that a shootout is really going to happen, but it all just feels untethered. That rules don’t apply in the same Puritanical way that they do just minutes north.

And surf? But of course! The same Pacific that caresses San Diego rubs old TJ with plenty of legitimately decent waves under 40 kilometers south. A veritable buffet! I think this is one of the greatest surf towns on earth and if you live near, do yourself a favor and cross the border today. You can, you know, it is just that easy.

Once here, try dining on hotdogs at El Sotano Suizo, or fancy steak at Mision 19. Or any street taco. Dance in the sun! Go for a surf and wash the hepatitis away with the frostiest margarita!

I love it so much here I might just not go home. Join me for brunch tomorrow!

Candid: Billabong’s Pipe House Saved Me!

Rory Parker

by Rory Parker

Poor and living in Waialua, Rory Parker's sanity was saved, briefly, by this dazzling rental…

Many years ago, when we lived on Oahu and my wife was in law school and we were still living hand to mouth, the in-laws came out for a visit.

The wife’s dad has some bucks, so they were staying at the Blue Wave House fronting Off the Wall. Despite its absurd price, it’s not actually a very nice place. The wide-angle realtor lens photos do a terrific job of hiding how cramped and poorly built the place is, with tiny rooms and cut corners, every knob and hinge about to fail due to the heavy stress of a constant flux of temporary residents.

A quick check also shows that it’s illegally used as a short-term rental. Wonder what would happen to its value if the County started enforcing rental laws?

But, anyway, at the time we were living in a shitty apartment on the bottom floor of a subdivided house in the worst area of Waialua. Our landlady’s meth-addict son had just got out of jail, was hanging around all day, and we were more than happy to sit on the patio of the Wave House and avoid going home.

I’ve got a ton of stories from that time, but one that sticks out the most was a dispute two of our neighbors had over the ownership of a pile of bricks. They lived across the street from each other and, apparently, years before, one guy had agreed to store the pile of bricks on his property temporarily. The owner’s house was being worked on and there wasn’t room for them.

Years passed, the bricks were never used, and one day the original owner decided he wanted them back. Bricks have some value, he’d found someone who wanted to buy them.

Only, the guy storing the bricks had decided they belonged to him, as they’d been stored in his yard for many years (I never found out how many). He was therefore entitled to some, if not all, of the proceeds of their sale.

The contentious nature of the dispute caused the deal to fall through, but sparked a neighbor feud which was in full swing during our residency.

“Fuck that guy, he’s a thief.”

“Don’t believe anything he says, he’s a liar.”

Back and forth, ever escalating, until the day we got to witness the joy of pure lunacy.

Throwing bricks is hard work, and I expected them to run out of steam quickly. Both men were well into their senior years, but had that wiry laborer strength that lasts forever and so managed, bolstered by fury, to go all day long. Cursing and sweating and throwing bricks at each other, occasionally taking a break, then returning to battle.

Some comment lit a fuse under the guy in possession of the bricks, and his rage induced logic dictated that the proper way of solving the matter was returning the bricks to their original owner. The delivery method being heaving them, one by one, across the street while spewing a constant stream of expletives.

It instantly changed the nature of the disagreement. Rather than realize he’d won, that not only was he getting his bricks back, they were being delivered via air mail to his door, the original owner took the stance, “How dare you throw a brick onto my property?”

So he started picking them up, and throwing them back.

Throwing bricks is hard work, and I expected them to run out of steam quickly. Both men were well into their senior years, but had that wiry laborer strength that lasts forever and so managed, bolstered by fury, to go all day long. Cursing and sweating and throwing bricks at each other, occasionally taking a break, then returning to battle.

Peace descended around sun down, with dozens, maybe hundreds, of bricks littering the road and their yards. A temporary detente, sure to reignite come morning.

Ownership was even more confusing than before. After all, if someone throws a brick at you, you could argue that it’s now your brick. They’ve given it to you, right? And so all day long they’d been transferring ownership back and forth, forever muddling their respective claims.

After midnight I heard noise from the road and went outside to investigate. Thanks to the ever forgiving nature of the ohana system numerous families on the street had at least one shit-bag criminal relative who would come and go. Keeping an eye on your stuff was a necessity, if you didn’t want it to end up flipped for some rocks down at Ali’i.

Our landlady’s son, and a few of his chronic compatriots, were busy scavenging the bricks and loading them into the bed of a tattered pickup truck. I made sure they saw me watching, checked that our car was locked tight and had nothing of value in it, and went back to sleep.

Around 8AM our neighbors returned to war, only to find their bricks were nowhere to be found.

“What did you do with my bricks?”

“Fuck you! What did you do with my bricks?”

I decided not to involve myself, let them puzzle out the mystery of the disappearing bricks on their own. Later that day our landlady’s son pulled up on a tricked out, obviously stolen, moped, and tucked it away in the side yard, hidden beneath a tarp, where it remained for the next few months.