How y'going to feel after being scalped and busting
your neck? This is Rob Bain, a one-time title contender, after
head-butting the reef at North Avalon in Sydney, Australia. "It's
the worst thing but it was also a beautiful thing," he says. Listen
to his most compelling story below…
Spoken Word: The day I broke my neck (and
was scalped)!
By Derek Rielly
Life can be violently extinguished or instantly
ruined. Here, Rob Bain recalls the day his world changed…
Five yeas ago, the one-time world title
contender, Rob Bain, head-butted a reef, was scalped and
broke his neck.
“It was the worst thing but it was also a beautiful thing,” says
Rob.
Click below to listen to his radical story, knowing he
was “broken inside” of “feeling like I was going to die” of
hearing the paramedics and the doctor arguing over what to do with
his terrible injuries and the aftermath of a catastrophic
injury.
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One morning last winter, I woke up, went surfing, and
Asher Pacey was, um, beautiful. And the crummy airs were replaced
with expressive and patient brushstrokes! It's true. Handsome men
do surf better. | Photo: Otis sunglasses
Theory: Handsome Men Surf Better
By Ali Klinkenberg
They are wholly confident. And their aesthetic
beauty translates to the wave…
“How beautiful maleness is, if it finds its right
expression.” – D.H. Lawrence
The first time I came across Asher Pacey was in an issue of
Tracks, circa 2004. It was a cropped picture of him
standing victorious on the podium of a nameless airshow held in a
gutless city beach break. This picture however, was not celebrating
his achievement; it was ridiculing him for the state of his oral
health. The tracks in his mouth were the harshest of
metals. My estranged stepfather is a dentist and I showed him
the picture.
“That’s clearly Malocclusions caused by moderate to severe
crowding,” he said.
The next time I encountered Asher was years later in the Snapper
car park. His hair was long and peroxide tipped. His teeth were
perfect. Fresh Rhythm stickers graced the medley of fresh crafts in
the back of his Holden Commodore as did what looked to be a box of
fresh veggies.A beautiful girl sat in the front seat in a floppy
felt hat, the first I’d seen. If it wasn’t for my completely
useless, stalkeresque selective memory that allows me to recognise
every mid-range pro surfer from 2001-2008, I wouldn’t have picked
this as the same man from the glossy pages of Tracks. Upon
his entering the water I witnessed that the makeover was complete.
Gone were the froggy airs and in their place were the most
expressive and patient brush strokes you’ll find on the Gold Coast
points.
Handsome men surf better. They are wholly confident. Kelly
Slater himself documented his own plight with
self-confidence/vanity (they’re totally linked in case you hadn’t
realised) in his seminal 2004 autobiography Pipedreams. He
explained that as a young man he suffered from considerable acne.
As the post-Tom Curren Great American Hope the spotlight was fierce
and oft shoved right in young Slater’s pustule ridden face.
His dermatological insecurity was highlighted when, while
waiting in the Surfer magazine headquarters in California, Kelly
read some graffiti scribbled on the wall.
“Kelly Slater has pimples!”
Envy manifests itself like most other forces: by taking the path
of least resistance. For proof see the Stab message
boards. If somebody’s obviously aesthetically flawed, despite their
athletic ability, then it’s easy to highlight. Dane’s fat, Filipe’s
ugly, Jordy’s nipples are too close together. It makes arm-chair
critics feel better about themselves but it makes the pro’s
weep.
Imagine how Asher must have felt, that first day the swells,
winds and tides of Snapper Rocks aligned in symphony with the
shedding of his train tracks. Like the Berliners the first sunny
day after the fall of the wall! Asher’s Instagram (@asher_pacey) depicts the perfect Australian
waterman, circa right now. He fishes, surfs (a lot) and has that
knack of avoiding overwhelming cheese in staged lifestyle shots. He
just looks right. Marketing 101. Asher’s also a damn fine
protagonist of riding an alaia, which is akin to pleasuring two
women simultaneously: It takes a man with perfect balance, and
almost meditative concentration to get the job done.
The web clips produced by Asher and Auteur Matt Kleiner are
mesmerising. It might not be the fastest, biggest, most radical or
cutting edge surfing, but the waves are East coast blue, the music
melancholic, the lifestyle shots reflective of place and time, and
Asher’s surfing is truly handsome.
I feel handsome sometimes but not always. I felt handsome the
other night. White chinos, cream cashmere sweater, brogues, a new
haircut, and a fresh tan. Stepping out into the cool southerly I
found my step filled with a rarely realised confidence. The
confidence of aesthetic beauty.
My arrival at that night’s function was met with an assortment
of pseudo-compliments blended with undertones of jealous mockery. I
simply smiled until my greatest friend at the gathering pulled me
aside.
“You know you look good, hey.”
Our eyes met, and a burst of shared laughter blew away in the
breeze. I knew.
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Eddie whispers, "Dear Laird, you can't know how
thrilled I am to see you again, to save me from the
V-Landers."
V-Land Locals Unkind to Surf Icon Eddie
Vedder
By Robert Fazio
Nineties punk-lite singer litters famous Hawaiian
beach. Pays ultimate price!
The North Shore of today is going to become one of those
places immortalized, dissected, and condemned in a New York Times
Sunday Edition Op-Ed by someone who frequently updates
their Linked In profile just as how pre-9/11 Manhattan is currently
talked about. Countless people will lament about personal run-ins
with the Hawaiian “bigs”, the best surfers, ice heads, and the
occasional celebrity.
It’s impossible to spend any amount of time on the North Shore
and not have a run in with someone who has starred in a movie or
something. Those interactions will be the most boring story you
leave the North Shore with because they’re often the most boring
people on the plant. But if you’re the type that fantasizes about
taking a selfie with Taylor Swift or Josh Hutcherson than you’re
probably boring too. A short trip down the Kam Highway to Foodland
to fetch some food could turn into a 36-hour bender in town with
weird Burning Man fire dancers and a barbeque at Sandys wedged
somewhere in between, or it could mean running into a famed
musician.
You can tell a lot about a person based off of how they act on
the beach. Those with metal detectors are usually hermits
collecting misplaced treasures in hopes of one day buying a Real
Doll, while those that wear gym shorts and basketball jerseys have
probably never read a book in their life.
One time, I was walking towards Velzyland after a session out at
Backyards. The waves were about four-foot Hawaiian and the
wave, known as Freddyland, situated between the two spots was
barely breaking. It’s a great spot for anyone who isn’t ready for
some of the real surf breaks on the North Shore. I walked towards
the Phantoms channel where a large group of my friends had been
sitting. They were chatting and pointing at a long-haired man
wearing a lanyard necklace and homemade tank top. It was Eddie
Vedder sitting with his family.
Old Eddie had been renting out the house up the block from where
my apartment was as he was working on his ukulele album. As I
walked up to my where my friends were sitting, a neighbours of
mine, originally from some middle-of-the-country suburban hellhole,
began yelling in her newly acquired pidgin accent about how Eddie
Vedder had been throwing orange peels on the beach. I wished
I could have seen Eddie’s face as a transplant from the mainland
patronized him for throwing his orange peels on the beach.
Eventually Eddie paddled out to surf a wave that wasn’t really
breaking. A one-foot set came through and the lead singer of Pearl
Jam paddled as deep as he could and stood up on the wave. He didn’t
pump and he didn’t need to pump. He was Eddie Vedder.
Somewhere, a gentleman sweeping the beaches is listening to
Better Man as he stockpiles lost jewlery in hopes of one
day purchasing a Real Doll.
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Each time he surfs a frightful force propels Mick
Fanning to victory. His impulse to win gets stronger and stronger.
But what is his secret? To his endurance? | Photo: ASP
The secret of Mick Fanning’s Endurance
By Derek Rielly
He keeps a boy in a cage and feeds him booze and
whores and belts him three or four times a day! Maybe true!
Just moments after sailing into world title
favouritism (if Gabriel was paralysed with fear in
Portugal, wait until the long switch blade of the world title, of
Hawaii, of Pipeline is above his head), Mick Fanning explained the
secret to his endurance.
And such a secret!
“I still get letters in the
mail,” confides Mick, “mostly from cracked-up men in tiny rooms
with factory jobs or no jobs who are living with whores or no woman
at all.”
The people’s champion!
These fans, says Mick, “have no hope,
just booze and madness. Most of their letters are on lined paper
written with an unsharpened pencil or in ink in tiny handwriting
that slants to the left and the paper is often torn usually halfway
up the middle and they say they like my stuff, that I surf on
rail, that I don’t make mistakes.”
Mick is thoughtful. He lays on a clean
bed. We can hear the bellow of a truck outside.
“I wonder if they realise where their
letters arrive?” he says. “Well, they are dropped into a box behind
a six-foot hedge with a long driveway leading to a two-car garage,
three-jetski garage, a rose garden, fruit trees, animals, a
beautiful woman, mortgage about half paid after a year, a new car,
fireplace and a green rug two-inches thick…”
and,
The secret to your endurance?
“I have a young boy to surf for me now,”
says Mick. In between contests, “I keep him in a ten-foot cage feed
him whiskey and raw whores, belt him pretty good three or four
times a week.”
Does it work? What do you think.
” I’m 33 years old now and the critics
say my stuff is getting better than ever.”
(And the world title scenarios
at Pipe? Cut and pasted from ASP press release below!)
If Medina finishes 2nd or better at
the Billabong Pipeline Masters, he
will clinch the 2014 ASP World
Title.
If Medina finishes 3rd at the
Billabong Pipeline Masters, Fanning will
need to win the event and Slater
will be out of contention.
If Medina finishes 5th at the
Billabong Pipeline Masters, Fanning will
need to win the event and Slater
will be out of contention.
If Medina finishes 9th at the
Billabong Pipeline Masters, Fanning will
need to finish 2nd or better and
Slater will be out of contention.
If Medina finishes 13th or 25th at
the Billabong Pipeline Masters,
Fanning will need to finish 3rd to
win or 5th to send the title race into a
one-heat “surf-off” between himself
and Medina. If Medina finishes
13th or 25th at the Billabong
Pipeline Masters, Slater will need to win
the event.
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I’m having so much fun it’s
ridiculous!
By Derek Rielly
Mason Ho (yes! again!) on the enchantment of
surfing…
That hip sneer! That kinky top! Mason Ho surfs
and his face (and ours) light up at his flashing finery. Mason
makes BeachGrit (and you, we believe) hoarse with ecstasy. Where so
many others play a baleful tune Mason hula-dances to an electric
spark.
Over the course of four or five years, I’ve interviewed Mason
maybe half-a-doz times. And each time I hang up and, think, son of
a bitch, that kid is good. An original thinker and someone
unburdened by that undefined fear of saying the wrong thing.
Here’s some of his best.
On head-checks at Backdoor: I swear it’s a dick
thing, don’t even try it. I think, frick, it’s such a habit but I
cannot stop doing ‘em. Every time I watch a clip I think, frick,
stop doing it! It’s nice doing ’em at Backdoor. The look down’s so
easy I’ll do it on every thing. And then I got hooked on it. And
now, it’s like, damn it, I try not to do it. But it still feels
good.
On surfing: I’m having so much fun it’s…
ridiculous! I’m addicted to filming and surfing!
On surfing naked: I hate to say it, but I do
that so much. People would think I was out to lunch if they knew
how much I do that. Every full moon for the past couple of months
it’s been perfect. I don’t got much to do with chicks. I hang out
with chicks and they’re always, like, (in a sing-song voice) “Let’s
go on an adventure!” I’m, like, no way, I wanna kick it. My
favourite adventure is, I tell ‘em, “Full moon time!” And, we go
down the beach and get all sixties, all naked, and I go surfing
naked, whatever, get all weird… Oohhh… ohhh… I
don’t know if I should be saying that but… it’s all
sixties… it’s all beautiful-ed out…
On girls: I’m so bad, Derek, I think every girl
is hot. Australia’s the raddest place, for sure. Everyone asks me
and I tell them every single time the same answer – Western
Australia. Like… boooooom! You can’t beat (surfing) The Box and the
girls’ mentality over there. Too much fun! And, that Prevelly wine!
Damn! The mentality is like a 17-year-old Hawaiian boy!
On guys pushing up against Coco: Oh, fuck,
nowadays I just play dumb. When I was younger, I’d slap kids up the
side of the head. I thought it was a super funny thing but kids
would just get rattled. Nowadays, it just seems like I have too
much respect for her. I’m kinda like… she let’s me hook up
with all these… She lets me fricken runaround so
fricken… I just figure, fuck, I can’t be bringing all these
chicks home every night and then just snap on her with one guy so,
like, fuck it.
Kolohe or John John: Hooooo! That’s so sick.
That’s the sickest! Who’s better? Let me think. You’d be so
surprised how tight I am with both of them. Because, I’ve been
staying at Brother’s house every summer since I was 10 years old.
To this day, every single summer, almost all summer. I was just
talking to Tina, Brother’s mom, and I’m moving in tomorrow. So,
yeah, Brother’s like my full brother, literally. He was named after
one of my uncles, Kolohe Bloomfield. John John, on the other hand,
is the little brother I see at home every day. We surf together and
he’s sooo cool. He’s like too cool I don’t even know what to think.
He rips so fucking hard.
But, who’s better, that’s the question, let me think: oh brah, I
can’t say. I’d get so busted. I like John John because, obviously,
he can paddle out to Waimea, fricken pull-in at Backdoor and he’s
fully up to par with all the boys at home… I mean, I’ve never seen
Brother do that, yet. But, then, when it comes to me surfing every
day in super tiny waves all I’m thinking about is how I grew up
with Brother surfing at T-Street (in San Clemente, Kolohe’s home
town).
Who has the most aloha on the Shore: (Slowly)
Most… aloha… on the North Shore… sick question. I
wonder. I was going to say Kalani Chapman. He’s, like, almost like
a modern day Owl Chapman (Sunset stand-out, influential shaper and
Kalani’s uncle) – super cool and groovy without even trying.
He’s so nice – too nice to even try. But, come to think of it, if
he got burned five times at Pipe he’d rip someone’s head off.
Who has the least aloha: It seems like all of
us at home, we all try to have a lot of aloha on the land, we’re
learning you need to have aloha to get through life, but in the
water… (laughs)… we lose that aloha.
Is aloha variable? Like, in winter, does it evaporate
completely? That seems like it’s pretty true. A lot of
people do that at home. My Dad’s never ever done that, though. He
always seems super cool ‘cause he always has a lot of friends come
in the winter. It seems like Dad’s always showing aloha, year
round, so that’s what I’ve tried to copy. A lot of the boys get
all… SNAAAPPPED!… when winter comes round like,
“FUCK! THESE FUCKERS… AGAIN? FUCK!” And my Dad’s always telling ‘em
like it ain’t going to change, you’re getting all nuts in the
water. But, then, Dad kinda eggs everyone on. It’s fucked up. He
eggs everybody on and then when he’s in the situation, he’s cool,
but if it’s someone else he’ll be like, “Ho, what, you never even
do nuthin!” I look at my Dad and go, “What? You just told me 10
times not to do anything and now you’re teasing my friend for not
doing anything.
On Michael Peterson: I try to copy MP the most
when I’m surfing. Big time. Because he’s PSYCCCCCHHHED! So in the
moment!
On surfing: I love getting barrelled. It could
be a one-foot barrel or a 30-foot barrel, whatever, just let me get
barrelled. It’s such a sweet feeling. That’s my best manoeuvre.
Airs are second. Turns are third. People can be, like, “Oh, you’ve
got to do a big form carve.” But, all the guys who say that have
never done a 10-foot air so they don’t know the feeling. You could
be going a hundred miles an hour on a wave and do the hugest carve
ever and to me that’s the third best feeling in the world. But, if
I was going a hundred miles an hour and did a 20-foot air, and
fucking stuck it, I’d be the happiest man. And, then, if I was
going a hundred miles an hour inside a barrel? That’s number
one.
