Da Hui is one of our very iconic brands and one that still strikes fear/joy into the heart of men. Or at least this man. I love it!
A few months ago, when I traveled to the east African nation of Djibouti, I brought my black Da Hui baseball cap, given to me as a gift by the wonderful Eddie Rothman, because I was planning to be on a boat most of the time and did not want a sunburned nose.
I wore it with pride, even though I was not on a boat most of the time, and loved when those Djiboutians scattered into the shadows as I walked down the street.
Emirates Airlines lost my luggage on my return and I didn’t get the bag for days. When it finally did arrive it was torn open and inside a clear garbage bag. Just one thing was missing. My black Da Hui baseball cap.
I can only assume a Pakistani baggage handler is terrorizing his Emirati masters with it this very day and it brings me some relief. Emiratis are the world’s biggest dough-balls and need Black Short justice.
In any case, Da Hui is now making wax and just watch this advertisement. Watch the entire thing. High octane Pipeline, throaty rock n roll and the end. Eddie’s unmistakable growl:
Remember, when you need to stick it, Da Hui wax…. Let’s go.
All the ad agencies on Madison Avenue could not craft a message so winkingly amazing, so on point, so lean, so anti-hip yet effortlessly cool, so… so… delightful.
It is the best ever surf ad and I dare you to disagree.
As the former pro surfer turned commentator Ross Williams correctly pointed out, a crummy day at Teahupoo is still maddeningly, beautifully sculpted. | Photo: WSL
There are days in the pro surfing game when nothing of note happens. When everything hums beehive perfect, the telecast is good, the commentators are in form, there are no technical glitches, but absent is any form of drama.
Today, very near the southern tip of Tahiti, on Tahiti-iti, in three-to-four-foot waves under gloomy skies, six hours of heats were processed without surprise.
Low heat totals. Fickle sets. A channel empty but for photographers and filmers and caddies obligated by friendship or employers to record a dozen forgettable heats.
You can imagine the early-morning interiors of the home-stays around Teahupoo, still but for the guest who would be fidgeting and grinning hideously as he crept out of the house to surf for his life in three-foot waves.
Results were par.
Filipe Toledo disappeared with a last place in an odd heat where he appeared determined to conjure a reputation-changing six-footer out of nowhere.
The tenuous world number one Matt Wilkinson beat the almost-forty-year-old wildcard Hira Teriinatoofa with a switchblade layback.
Dusty Payne armlocked Conner Coffin in a tight, last-minute win that made Conner bare his teeth in frustration.
Alex Ribiero cocked a six-point heat total to bomb the reigning world champion Adriano de Souza out of the event. “Yeah…um…the waves were… tricky,” said the perpetually diplomatic de Souza.
Joel Parkinson stilled thoughts of retirement when he snorted Jack Freestone off the reef.
Watch the post show here! (Game on tomoz and the next day too!)
Did you get your MMA fill last night with Conner vs. Nate? No? Good! Let's get ready for an international rumble!
Do you like mixed martial arts? Does the sight of blood streaming down a cauliflower ear’d man send you into fits of ecstasy? Did you watch Conner McGregor vs. Nate Diaz last night? I didn’t but read that it is already being considered one of the greatest fights of all time. Do you want to know another good fight though? California’s west vs. Australia’s east. Gentlemen tap gloves.
Every coastal nation has a best coast, north, south, east or west. One coast trumps the other. In France, the west coast is better than the south Mediterranean coast. In Panama the east Caribbean coast is better than the west Pacific. In the United States’ California west is better than the urbane Eastern Seaboard. And in Australia the urbane east coast is better than its wild wild west. But when California is pitted against Australia’s Gold, Sunshine, Sydney coast which wins? Which is best of all?
Australia’s east coast features one very fine town and that town is Sydney. Some will say Byron Bay or Nambucca Heads or Forster (pronounced “Foster”) are equally fine but they are wrong. And Sydney is dreamy. There is shopping, dining, delicious models and surf. Australia’s east coast also features the Gold Coast and while Surfers Paradise is both a grammatical and architectural travesty the surf is amazing. There are waves for every desire.
California features three very fine towns, Los Angeles and San Francisco and San Diego. Los Angeles may be perfect. It has everything including the film industry and all the actresses who come for it. Everything except good surf but good surf is easily accessible via automobile. San Francisco is called the Paris of the west and it, too, has everything except attractive women and sunlight. San Diego has everything except an IQ.
Australia’s east coast has Snapper Rocks. California has Trestles. Australia’s east coast has Nicole Kidman. California has her too.
Australia’s east coast has beer. California has wine country. Australia’s east coast has Splendour in the Grass. California has Coachella. Australia’s east coast has that harsh, unfiltered east coast light. The sort that makes a man feel bad about his past and not dreamy. The same sort as New York City. California has golden light filtered in that way that all light is filtered on west coasts. The past is forgotten. Only the future exists.
And, therefore, California is better than Australia’s east coast. California might be better than anywhere else on earth.
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Come see a documentary where the mutilation of a hammerhead shark forms a primitive courtship dance!
A polemic endorsed by surfing champion Kelly Slater!
Yesterday, the surfing champion Kelly Slater changed the link in his Instagram page to go to a film by shark conservationist, Madison Stewart.
The Shark Hunters, which you can watch below, is a twenty-seven minute documentary that attempts to hang two old men, the noted shark hunters Mark Quartiano and Vic Hislop, whose attitudes to sharks are out of flavour with Generation Text.
The film opens with 22-year-old Stewart’s husky whisper, “Two men, one mutual enemy…”
It’s a polemic of sort that made Michael Moore the king of the stupids, and is rich with the irony that both the filmmaker and her subjects are so convinced of their righteousness, neither side can believe there might be a middle path.
I operate on the premise that if a species is threatened, protect it.
Unless you’re a vegan, you, yeah you, are contributing to the misery of animals. I used to be a vegetarian. Didn’t eat a damn fish, chicken or cow for twenty beautiful years, an accumulation of karmic points I hope to put to use at some later point, maybe at the onset of ass cancer or similar.
Why these two old sons of bitches agreed to be interviewed by a filmmaker whose aim was ridicule, not understanding, is clear when you go to Quartiano’s site. Brother is a… ladies man! Click on “Monster Hot Girls!”to see a swordsman with an eye for pussy.
Does Miami-based Quartiano, the bug-eyed ex-cop-turned-shark fisherman in his blood-spattered white overalls, really believe he has a shot with the Arabic-featured filmmaker, absolutely splendid in mirrored sunglasses and midriff Wrangler t-shirt, a zeitgiest-y tattoo wrapping her left tricep? I think, yes!
Quartiano drags a hammerhead aboard his boat, the fish fucked by hook and a bite by another shark, and, in an act he clearly believes is compassionate, flirtatious even, throws the doomed creature back into the drink.
The Australian Vic Hislop, whose ideas are more sophisticated than the brutish Quartiano, fares better than his American counterpart. Yeah, he’s ripe for parody, high on conspiracy theories etc, but it isn’t a stretch to accommodate a couple of his theories on shark nets and the changing of sharks’ diets in response to an ocean being vacuumed clean of snapper and mackerel and so on.
Watch here.
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John John climbs around tricky bends in Teahupoo's winding and often non-existent pathways! He rains nine in his heat! | Photo: WSL
Maybe you woke up this morning, took one whiff of the opening heat in the Tahiti Pro, and went about your biz, convinced of the contest’s predicted dreariness: Jordy, a five and a three, beating Ryan Callinan’s three and a zero-point-seven. Ugly numbers.
But the thing about Teahupoo, even at a slightly misshapen three foot, is, if you know the joint, what can look like an impossible-to-make west bowl, can turn into an overhead dream boat. But you gotta know the wave. You gotta know how to squeeze the lemons.
And, so, when Gabriel Medina, when John John Florence and when Kelly Slater appeared for their round one heats, day one took on a better shape.
You can examine Gabriel’s eight-pointer here.
And then John John rained nines, an 18.40 total. You like the distance between hand and rail?
And, Kelly, threads his Webber banana through this video game-like tunnel…
Want to know how to ride Teahupoo? Watch Peter King’s excellent #TourNotes here!
A little contest wrap, with full results, at the close of play…
