As explained previously, we figured it’d make sense to leverage
our design contacts, in our case the award-winning Rama McCabe from
Banks, to make our surf trunks. Chas and I had both
fallen into the hole of buying Orlebar Browns and whatever else,
just so we could wear something a little slimmer, little
shorter.
But who wants to spend two or three c-notes on a pair of
trunks?
For this year’s ranges, we went slightly shorter, slightly
slimmer and instead of cotton figured we’d swing with
nylon. Still with the four-button fly and the back pocket and
the inner lining.
Fifty bucks, delivered airmail anywhere in the world.
And only in 31s and 32s. (Ignore that little drop-down
menu.)
And, now, the same trunks but available in easy-to-wear Bill
Cosby black and easy-to-hate White Devil White!
"And," adds Kolohe, " If you're not in love with
Filipe's full rotations, you're blind!"
Memorial day weekend here in the greatest
country that’s ever existed. Banks are closed on Monday in
honor of dead soldiers. People are gonna barbecue and get
drunk.
Heard a radio ad in the car today. Some sort of sale in honor of
the troops who “died for our freedom.” Really Christian concept.
Pretty hard for me to swallow.
Atavist magazine has a very interesting article about
a
Chinese billionaire who tried to make a blockbuster
film. Indulgent passion project, multiple director
changes, an incomprehensible script. Hollywood types who thought
their big break had come.
It’s crazy how Bethany Hamilton just torques her head and neck
to make up the being short one arm. I can understand why she’s such
an inspirational figure.
I recently watched a neat documentary about the use of “spin”
during the ’92 presidential elections. Assembled using footage
recorded from network satellite feeds, there are some fascinating
candid moments when powerful types forget they’re on camera.
Watching Larry King chat with George Bush the Firsts about the
latters love of pharmaceuticals is lovely. Overall the message is
kind of garbled, but it’s worth watching for the content rather
than the whole.
I put a lot of effort into training my dog. Not to do stupid
tricks and shit like that. Just so he’s obedient and friendly and
isn’t super obnoxious. But I think it’s really funny when he sneaks
up on sleeping people at the beach. They’re just zoning in the sun,
not a care in the world, then some shocking cold wet snout gets
jammed in their face. I pretend to be contrite and scold him but my
body language is pure encouragement.
Same deal when he runs through people’s stuff. Total dick move
but he’s a cute as hell french bulldog so no one gets upset. And it
keeps him occupied so I can swim. Little idiot loves the ocean but
has the swimming ability of a brick.
Derek sent me this WSL produced Flying Llama bio. Andino the
younger compares Toledo’s ability to Charles Manson. Email header
read “this is so you.”
I’m not really sure what he meant by that. I like the clip. The
WSL should be pumping these out on the regular. Make for great
downtime footage during slow moments. Give the chatterboxes a
chance to catch their breath rather than ramble on and on and
on.
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Can you believe it? Just watch her. Watch her tear the
heart out of the future of surfing with one arm digested in a shark
who, if I recall, got caught by fishermen and hung. I don't recall
because I never watched Soul Surfer. | Photo:
WSL/Sloane
Just in: Amputee beats Tyler Wright!
By Chas Smith
One healthy motherfucking bicep straight outta
Kauai! Bethany Hamilton! Yes!
Ain’t Tyler Wright just the future of surfing?
Such power! So thighs! Except do you want to know what trumps
thighs? One healthy motherfucking bicep straight outta Kauai.
Bethany Hamilton!
I’ve spent more time with Bethany than would be common. We hung
out at the Presidential Prayer Breakfast, for example. And ummmm
Oceanside. And while her public thing may slightly annoy she is
fierce when Obama is sitting next to her and rages a wave.
Cloudbreak!
I’ve spent more time with Bethany than would be common. We hung
out at the Presidential Prayer Breakfast, for example. And ummmm
Oceanside. And while her public thing may slightly annoy she is
fierce when Obama is sitting next to her and rages a wave.
Can you believe it? Just watch her. Watch her tear the heart out
of the future of surfing with one arm digested in a shark who, if I
recall, got caught by fishermen and hung. I don’t recall because I
never watched Soul Surfer.
In any case, I’m camping in the backyard of a mega
celebrity right now. Channing Tatum is here. Rockin bod but moon
face!
Except do you want to know what trumps backyard mega celebrity
camping? One motherfucking palmaris longus straight outta
Lihue!
I’ve sat far away from everyone watching her on video. Watching
her mock our shared expectations.
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The 2016 big wave world champ Greg Long didn't want a
piece of big Cloudbreak earlier this week. Who can blame? Greg
knows what it feels like to have the light switch squeezed off.
This, at Cortes Bank, one hundred miles off the California coast,
December 2012. | Photo: courtesy Greg Long
Big Wave Champ Didn’t Surf Cloudbreak!
By Rory Parker
Rory Parker examines the consequences…
Matt Rott’s got an interesting interview with Greg
Long up on Magic Seaweed right now. Focuses on Long’s
decision to play water safety during the recent Cloudbreak bomb day
rather than surf. Very interesting stuff.
Beyond the subject matter, I think it’s damn neat that Rott
paddled out himself that day. I don’t think I would have. I like
big waves, but there’s a limit. I know a thing or two about holding
my breath, if the surf can keep you submerged long enough to turn
out the lights shit’s just too damn real.
Today I paddled out into small slop. Bobbed around the lineup
like a potato for around an hour without catching a wave, took off
on a chest high double up to go in. Tried to do an ollie into the
flats. “Look at me I’m Mason Ho!”
Timed the landing to perfectly hit some oncoming backwash, cased
my entire oafish frame into the deck of my board. Shit hurt.
Buckled my nose. Sebastian Zietz was just inside pushing some
little girl into waves. But he doesn’t know who I am, and I wasn’t
about to introduce myself at that point.
Got me thinking about safety gear. How surfing doesn’t really
have any. Don’t think a leash counts, that’s just there to save
effort. Big-wave vests exist, but they’re for a different
breed.
Gath helmets and nose guards exist, but no one really uses
them.
Timed the landing to perfectly hit some oncoming backwash, cased
my entire oafish frame into the deck of my board. Shit hurt.
Buckled my nose. Sebastian Zietz was just inside pushing some
little girl into waves. But he doesn’t know who I am, and I wasn’t
about to introduce myself at that point.
It’s kind of surprising no one’s tried to market the equivalent
of skate pads for surf. Seems pretty straightforward. Rash guard
with padded elbows and shoulders. Board shorts with the same deal
in the hips. They’d look damn kooky, for sure, but I could imagine
using them at a shallow low tide reef. Like super small Rockies,
when it’s breaking right on the inside ledge and straightening out
puts you in six inches of water.
Most surfers’d be too cool to wear ’em, but I suspect
non-surfing moms around the world would happily part with some
ducats to keep their babies safe.
Even better, throw the same padding in a fullsuit, market it to
beginners. You wouldn’t even have to build the damn things. Just
toss a campaign onto a crowdfunding site then keep the money.
Nothing wrong with separating chumps from their dough. Paying up
front for a product that doesn’t exist is for idiots, people
deserve whatever’s coming to them.
Since my wife won’t let me scam people in the internet the
idea’s free for the taking.
(Here, Greg Long talks to Vice ’bout his Cortes Bank
drowning…)
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…and after y'done chasing twenties, maybe you'll hunt
thirties…
How to Catch a 20-foot wave!
By Shane Dorian
Even if the thought of 20 feet makes you pale to
the gills!
Why would anyone wanna ride a 20-foot
wave? Why not? What kinda reason could you make up
not to ride the wave of your life?
Oh, you’re scared. That’s the same reason to paddle into a
six-foot wave when you’re used to four-foot waves. We’re surfers,
right. We all want to get better and push onto the next level. We
all want to experience something new and something different. And
for those that are into that, maybe you, paddling into a 20-foot
wave is about as challenging and exhilarating as it gets.
Wait, what’s that about dying? Yeah, that is the big elephant in
the room. But more people die in little waves than big waves. I
know, it ain’t much comfort. But when you get in the ocean that’s
part of the deal. The bigger it is, the more the chances go up.
But, listen: even the craziest big-wave surfer has more of a chance
of dying in a car crash en route to wherever than from having the
air squeezed out of him.
That said, let me make something clear. The maybe-dying part
doesn’t get me off at all. I don’t get some kind of thrill from the
surfing-is-deadly thing. I ain’t in a hurry to add martyrdom to my
vices. I love to surf, man. It’s something I just dig. Today I was
surfing with my kid and it was fun foot and I couldn’t have been
happier.
“The maybe-dying part doesn’t get me off at all. I don’t get
some kind of thrill from the surfing-is-deadly thing. I ain’t in a
hurry to add martyrdom to my vices. I love to surf, man.”
Anyway, let’s do this thing. First up, the chances of all the
ingredients coming together to actually paddle into a 20-footer at
Cloudbreak (Fiji) or Mavericks (California) or Jaws (Maui), Punta
de Lobos (Peru) or Belharra (France) is low. Everything has to be
right. The waves have to turn on. You can’t be sick, you can’t be
out of shape, and your boards have to be ready to go. So you gotta
be patient.
Butterflies? Yeah, I get ’em too. Serious butterflies. From the
moment I see a potential swell on the map to packing my boards I
get butterflies. And if it’s extraordinary swell, like Jaws
or Mavs, I get a genuine fear. But all that nervousness, all that
fear, goes away when you get into the lineup. And it should for
you, too. If it doesn’t, if you’re hesitating or overcome by
nervousness, maybe it just ain’t your day.
But then again maybe you just need a push in the right
direction. I calm myself by thinking about what a special day this
is; that it may not be like this again for years. I try and get
myself into a mental state where I want to push myself.
So what does a 20-foot wave look like? It looks scary as shit.
There’s a huge difference between a 15-foot wave and a 20-foot
wave. It’s not just a difference of five feet. It’s bigger, it’s
thicker, it’s more dangerous (sorry!). There’s a huge separation of
people who surf 20-feet and those who surf 15 feet. Twenty feet is
where it gets really, really serious.
Oh, it’s a lonely moment when it arrives. Do you:
stay, go or pray to be transported back to your warm bed? Shane at
Nazare.
What kinda skill set you need? Not a lot. You really just need
to the balls to paddle in. To ride one well requires some serious
skill but just to make it down the face, you don’t have to be a
great surfer.
Now let’s paddle in. If you’re in the right spot, whip it
around, put your head down and go. You can’t hesitate. Head down
and totally commit. Do I hesitate sometimes? Of courses. I hesitate
all the time. Sometimes for good reason, sometimes it’s a big
mistake, sometimes it’s genuinely out of fear. It’s part of the
deal. I’ve looked at a lot of good waves and not gone. My general
theory is that there’s no wave worth killing yourself for.
When everything goes right it’s like being a super fucking ugly
guy and having sex with the hottest super model on the planet. It’s
like you pulled off the impossible. Because everythitng in the
universe has to align for you to get this ride that you’ll remember
for the rest of your life. And there should only be a handful of
these in any surfers’ life, waves that you truly remember. That
feeling is rare and elusive as hell. It’s a mix of pure elation and
accomplishment.
Once you’re at the point of no return, your tail is lifting and
your about to drive down the face, everything, all that nervousness
disappears. Sure, you’re hyper-aware of making a mistake but, in
the moment, you’re focussed and completely in the zone. You think
of nothing and, instead, you’re relying on all your past
experiences to get you through.
When everything goes right, like at Puerto Escondido recently,
it’s like being a super fucking ugly guy and having sex with the
hottest super model on the planet. It’s like you pulled off the
impossible. Because everythitng in the universe has to align for
you to get this ride that you’ll remember for the rest of your
life. And there should only be a handful of these in any surfers’
life, waves that you truly remember. That feeling is rare and
elusive as hell. It’s a mix of pure elation and accomplishment.
When everything goes wrong, it’s the shittiest feeling. You
immediately go from this mode where you’re out there thinking, I’m
going to charge, this is going to make my day, Why and I so fucking
selfish? Why did I do this? Now I’m at the bottom of the ocean and
about to drown. But you won’t drown. This is what you trained for.
Remember that. Breath-holding training is important here. If you
know you can handle two waves on the head, you won’t punch
that big red panic button lighting up in your head. At least not
straight away.
For your first 20-foot paddle experience, and obviously this
depends on your ability to travel at a moment’s notice, I’d go to
Belharra in France. It’s the outer reef at the port town of
St-Jean-de-Luz. There are no rocks, there are channels on both
sides and the wave dies out into deep water. And at 20-feet it’s
barely breaking. You’ll need a ski to get out there, but I’m
guessing you already figured that out.
And here’s something you may not have thought about: the
comedown after such a tremendous event. It’s almost like postpartum
depression. You have this crazy euphoric moment when it’s happening
where you’re on this razor’s edge and you feel like you’ve reached
the absolute pinnacle of your life but then…almost in slow
motion… it starts to fade as you reach the channel. Even
though you just rode the wave of your life and you knew it and felt
it while you were riding, it evaporates as you flick off and
becomes, immediately, past tense. It’s such an emotional swing!
You’re definitely not high forever.
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Jon Pyzel and Matt Biolos by
@theneedforshutterspeed/Step Bros
