surfing stoned
“After vaping, I surfed a break on a really small day with two random 12 year olds who couldn’t stop complaining about how bad the waves were. Harshed my mellow for a good ten minutes until I realized I should paddle away to another break.”

Survey: Do you (like) surfing stoned?

Do you surf better? Does it enhance the experience? Do you ever see God?

Do you enjoy the surreal effects of marijuana? Do you inflate your lungs before a surf? Is it a regular thing?

I’ve never been one for weed. Looses all those demons that are happily shackled, revs up a paranoia that otherwise never shows. And everyone I knew at school who were zealots for green became, over time, dumb, sluggish and stupid.

But, some dig. Maybe you dig?

Earlier today, I fell into a message stream on reddit of surfers back and forthing on the subject of surfing while high. I had no idea it was still such a thing.

Here are some highlights.

I’m not sure if raising the topic of weed is going to be suicidal here. I just wanted to see if anyone else here is a fan of it in the context of surfing. Because sweet mother, it’s glorious! I’ve always felt connected to the ocean when surfing, but surfing while high is like making love to her. Everything flows so perfectly, and being able to play with that flow and be a part of it… it’s just straight up beautiful.

And yes, I would say that my performance is worse (in terms of how I’d score in a competition). But the criticality of a turn, or the depth of a barrel doesn’t matter when you’re high. All that matters is fitting into that flow perfectly, and riding the wave as it’s presenting itself to be ridden. And when you can do that, nothing feels better!

Yeah I dunno, I like to smoke sometimes on smaller days when it’s nice out, but not so much if its bigger or more hollow or cold and I have to concentrate more.

I’m with you on this one man. When it’s nice pleasant surf I’m all about having a cheeky toke beforehand. But yeah, if it’s big angry surf, I definitely prefer to have my reactions over my flow.

When i got high and surfed, you can feel the turns and the board beneath your feet. for me; i gave less shit about what people thought and just had flow with the wave. No effort needed to turn, no effort to snap or push or do floaters, it all just happened. people who saw me were like HOLY SHIT dude how the fuck did you get so good?! would try again

That’s exactly it man! It really does all just happen. And yeah, I think when it feels that good, it looks just as good. I’ve been getting compliments on my riding style since I started riding high too, which though I like to think I’m quite modest, is always nice to hear! Though some of the adjectives crack me up a bit… ‘groovy’ was used once haha.

The feeling of being underwater made me laugh uncontrollably for some awesome reason and the water literally glimmered like sparks were jumping across the waters surface. The set waves were really intimidating because I would focus on every little change that occurred as the wave came inland and I remember the sound of the waves tripped me the fuck out because I realized the sound was being generated solely by water crashing on itself.

Mixed reviews. Surfed on a solid double overhead day on a left-hand pointbreak after eating some brownies. Really awesome. I think I only caught four or five waves, but they were fun. It felt like everything happened very fast – start paddling for a wave, all of a sudden you’re in it getting ready to pop up, thinking to yourself “duhhhh how do I do this again?” but it just happens and then if you’re like me you grab the rail on anything remotely exciting on the backside. It felt like just sitting out back, you felt the energy and excitement of the ocean more, every little undulation of the swell and the way the wind played across the water.

On the other hand, after vaping, I surfed a break on a really small day with two random 12 year olds who couldn’t stop complaining about how bad the waves were. Harshed my mellow for a good ten minutes until I realized I should paddle away to another break.

I’m a fan of using drugs to help me see things that I have a hard time seeing otherwise. I also appreciate that folks might want to blaze then go splash around ’cause it’s fun, but in your post you’re talking about finding a connection to the ocean that you haven’t found without ganja.

Now that you’ve felt that, how could that happen again with you, your board and the ocean as the only ingredients? If I couldn’t answer that question, or didn’t want to answer that question, then the dope’s just a filler, not a tool.

I didn’t mean to sound preachy. I mean all this self reflection, not judgement. Blaze away.

I’m all for it. It’s magical. The session in the morning of 4/20 was one of the best I’ve had. I’ll never forget sitting on the board out the back, just bobbing gently, look over my left should to see one of my best mates and a rising sun, look over my right shoulder to see a beautiful full rainbow. It’s the first time I’ve ever truly regretted not having a GoPro.

So tell me: do you ever surf stoned? Is it a little, maybe half a J or a cone, or a whole lot?

Do you get better, does it enhance the experience? Do you see God?

Kelly Slater and The Inertia

The Inertia: Blame Trump on Slater!

Surf media's killer dog rounds on champ!

The anguish today keeps pouring down. The funeral procession of our theoretical better selves enveloped in a never ending wail.

Like this!

Even the best of pals are torn asunder by our new political reality. Even idols brought low by those who used to gaze up with only the utmost admiration.

Let us examine the case of one Robert Kelly Slater and The Inertia‘s founder-in-chief Zach Weisberg.

Oh you know how surfing’s definitive online community adores the champ. We all do, of course, but The Inertia more than adores. Maybe worships a little. Maybe wants to marry on a Kauai cliff during sunset with Don Ho as master of ceremonies (presented by Purps).

But the spectre of Donald J. Trump threw a big old monkey wrench (spanner) into the machinations of love today. Really derailed the works.

Let us read from Mr. Zach’s dirge:

Nothing is given, and liberals forgot that the same way disenchanted conservatives remembered it. As such, progressives failed to tap into the same dormant emotions that drive America to be its greatest.

I regret that The Inertia failed to make a formal presidential endorsement this election. It doesn’t matter that it most likely wouldn’t have any impact. But it could have. In my estimation, it was the right thing to do, because it was an expression of how I, as a leader, and The Inertia staff, as a collective, feel with a renewed obligation in communicating to our 1.5 million monthly readers.

I regret that we didn’t take Kelly Slater, a man I deeply respect as surfing’s most influential ambassador, to task for choosing not to vote in this year’s election despite hosting an art show to inspire political conversation. In my estimation, that’s a disingenuous thing for a thoughtful person to do. Voting is a privilege our forefathers died to preserve, and while I respect anyone’s right to refuse to participate, for those who care about the environment (surfers and outdoor enthusiasts) and social justice (thoughtful people), there was an appropriate choice on this year’s ballot.

It was not Donald Trump.

So my favorite part is The Inertia making a formal presidential endorsement a way to also let potential advertisers know how much “traffic” they’re getting.


But the part that brings a lonely tear to my eye is the thought of Zach W taking Kelly Slater to task. Don’t give in to your baser prog Huffy Post instincts, dearest Z.

Let Kelly vote for Kelly and Let Love Rule!

Trump Playboy
I'm not reproducing, what do I care about the future health of our environment? Fuck it, let's burn shit to the ground. Of course, the white bread faux-Christian mouth breathers who farted out a vote for Trump yesterday breed like a rats. Pumping out child after child, fruitlessly multiplying. They need a planet to host the poisonous detritus that springs forth from their wombs.

Parker: “Comedy comes from pain!”

A buffoon-in-chief will be hilarious!

Motherfucker. I truly did not see that coming.

Should’ve, probably. Just didn’t want to believe a campaign built on hate could win. But it did.  Wasn’t even close. Bigotry and fear took the day, get to run with the ball for the next four years.  Probably eight, if we’re being honest.

But the world isn’t ending.

Nothing has really changed.

We’re the same group of assholes today that we were yesterday.

Is it absurd that we elected a reality TV star to run our country? Yep.

Is he going to use the Senate and House majority to roll back every positive environmental and public health program we’ve got? Probably.

Am I allowed to call people niggers and faggots and beaners again? Looks like it.

To be fair, I’ll only be applying that license to the racial or ethnic or sexual minorities who supported him. They signed up for it.

But it’s not all doom and gloom. Well, maybe mostly, but if you want to read that type of stuff you can find it anywhere at the moment. I’d prefer to focus on the bright side.

Comedy golden era

A buffoon-in-chief will be hilarious, there’s no way around it. Whether he’s committing social gaffes among his fellow heads of state, or engaging in late night Twitter wars with detractors, the presence of a President without a filter will make for endless opportunities for solid humor.

Sure, a lot of the laughing will be the kind you do in order to avoid tears. But that’s fine. Comedy comes from pain. Saturday Night Live will catch fire for a few years, South Park has Mr Garrison in the White House.

He gave a voice to the voiceless

But not really. He exposed a lot of people for the close-minded xenophobe bigots they truly are, and tricked them into thinking they were represented. But, the truth of the matter is, that fairly large subsection of our population has been largely ignored because they are stupid. Easily led, receptive to demagoguery, willing to believe anyone who spews venom that overlaps with their own. But first and foremost, stupid.

They may think they’ll get what they want, but they don’t know what they want. And no one cares anyway. The frustration as that fact dawns on them will be delicious.

The Red State Blues

The jobs are gone, they ain’t coming back. All the Rust Belt retards who think Heir Trump will somehow bring back all the off-shored manufacturing jobs are gonna learn real quick that those were just empty promises. The Trump presidency will be about putting as much money as possible in the hands of the ruling class. You don’t do that by paying a living wage. You definitely don’t do that by supporting unions.

“BUT YOU PROMISED!” they’ll cry, while fighting for crusts of bread in the gutter. “You said you’d make us great again. This isn’t great at all.”

Goodbye Obamacare

Thank jeebus I can afford private insurance. Great coverage, the best!

But guess what? Repealing the Affordable Care Act will mean insurance companies can once again charge more, or deny coverage outright, due to pre-existing conditions. Which is a serious problem if you’re an obese redneck motherfucker with adult-onset diabetes. Ditto if you’re an aging baby boomer about to experience the litany of ailments that comes with senior status.

Global Warming isn’t real

I’m not reproducing, what do I care about the future health of our environment? Fuck it, let’s burn shit to the ground.

Of course, the white bread faux-Christian mouth-breathers who farted out a vote for Trump yesterday breed like a rats. Pumping out child after child, fruitlessly multiplying. They need a planet to host the poisonous detritus that springs forth from their wombs.

Luckily for them, the type of half wit imbecile their tainted bodies produce will be well suited to surviving the aftermath of our planet’s destruction. Retreat to caves, return to their troglodyte roots.

They set a precedent

Fuck unity. Fuck brotherhood. Fuck national identity.

It’s us versus them, ain’t no two ways about it. Hopefully the more liberal-minded souls will finally realize that, if you want to fight a pig, you’ve gotta get down in the mud. No more attempts at discussion or ideological parity. Stop pretending there are rules, start doing what it takes to win.

It’s time to throw our idealism in the garbage, where it belongs. Face the cold hard truth that you’ve gotta employ violence to get what you want. That’s it’s okay to trample another person in your quest for a brighter tomorrow. That truth has no place in reality, and that the ends always justify the means.

Election: Don’t blame Kelly Slater!

It's ok world... our white knight will come riding in to save us!

Oh a profound sadness is washing over America today and, I suppose, in certain inland corners a wild jubilation too. Election day is over and Kelly Slater did not win even though he posted a picture on his wonderful Instagram account of a ballot where his name has been written in. “BTW this is not my ballot…” Kelly added alongside the post. “Someone sent it to me.”

Oh yeah! Totally!

But the question remains… what will Kelly do to spoil Trump’s victory? Let us recall his most recent attention grabbing triumphs

After Adriano won a hard fought crown Kelly unleashed his perfect barrel on the world. So effective was the pulled spotlight that I can’t, to this day, remember The Little Plumber’s last name.

After John John won Kelly went on to the socials and called Jordy Smith the best current surfer in the world.

And now Trump has won, besting Kelly maybe 58,000,000 to 4 but certainly our heart’s champion has something up his wizard’s sleeve. Will he…

a) Post a selfie standing next to Vladimir Putin with the hashtag #biggerfasterstronger.

b) Win the Jaws event riding tandem with Cam Diaz.

c) Open a wavepool on Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington D.C. with gold water instead of brown.

d) Build a wall along the U.S. – Mexico border made entirely out of wavepools.

e) Announce his candidacy.

f) Post a selfie standing next to Canada’s Justin Trudeau with the hashtag #mosthandsomeleaderintheworld.

g) Build a wavepool on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange with green water instead of brown.

h) Announce that he has single-handedly brought peace to the middle east.

i) By building a wavepool in Jerusalem where both the Jew and the Arab can surf for 50 shekels an hour.

j) All of the above.

John John Florence Portugal
Don't you, like me, think it's the most wonderful thing in the world that the world champion surfer pays for his own tail pads? Cost price, sure, but you can bet more than a dime there's companies out there who'd shovel a quarter-mill a year to have him ride their pads. | Photo: WSL

John John Florence buys Astrodeck!

…tail-pads at ten bucks a shot!

Yesterday, I mighta mentioned that I’d thrown in to be a part-owner of a devil-themed traction and wax company.

It ain’t gonna make me rich, so far it’s made me a little poorer, but why not take a swing when a ball flies atcha? Read about that here. 

Now all the talking about deck grips got me thinking about the best in the biz, the original, the beautiful, Astrodeck. It may surprise you, surprised me, that the world champion John John Florence and world number five Kolohe Andino, who have signature Astrodeck tail-pads, actually…pay… for their grips. Ten bucks a hit. It ain’t retail, sure, but fuck.

When Necro tried to lure Noa Deane into riding for ’em, offering a piece of the company, he said he didn’t want anything but Astrodeck.

So  few hours ago I called Astrodeck’s San Clemente, California, bureau to talk about the ringing endorsement of the Champ, Florence, ballet dancer Noa and the sorta contender, Andino.

Who answers the phone? Ms Dibi Fletcher herself, writer, artist, and the matriarch of the famous surf family that includes Herbie the tow-pioneer/artist/traction pioneer, Christian, Nathan, and skate-star Greyson, Christian’s kid, Dibi’s grandkid.

Well, hello, Dibi!

Turns out Dibi, who is almost seventy years old, opens the doors in the morning, answers the phones, works the warehouse, ships the pads, does it all. Ain’t nobody else there but the still cute-as-a-button Dibi.

“Getting it in, honey,” she says, with a fabulous hoot. “I don’t want people’s dysfunctional kids. I’ve already got my own. No one wants to work. You train someone and then they move onto the next thing. What’s in it for me to spend the time and train somebody? It’s easier for me to do everything. I know everything, do everything. If there’s any problem it’s my problem. I don’t have nobody to blame except me and I learn from it. That’s the reality.”

Now what is so cool about Astrodeck, apart from making the best tail-pads money can buy, is the Fletchers never diluted their game by bringing in investors. Always been Herb and his design (his lucrative art, too) and Dibi on the business levers. John John and Kolohe Andino both have Astrodeck models but don’t get paid endorsements. They like, they ride.

“Known ’em since they were kids,” says Dibi, who won’t omment on the ten-bucks-a-pad arrangement.

Dibi, who has this beautiful way of adding “Do you understand?” to most of her declarations, lights up when you talk authenticity and the ins-and-outs of the surf industry.

Does she make money?

“If I was making money do you think I’d be sitting at this fucking desk? You think at my age I’d be out the back shipping pads? The reality is, it’s a very small, niche market. But I still feel that I make the best pads. I have the best surfers in the most critical positions. That’s what I’m interested in doing. Making the best pads. Everyone in my family surfs. Unlike most of the other pad companies, do you understand, they’ve got people in cubicles making different coloured pads. They knock me off. I don’t care about. I don’t give a shit!”

I keep it going because, dude, it’s not because I’m making any fucking money. I keep it going because it’s the right thing to do? No one in their right fucking mind would do that. Do I like selling surf pads? Do you understand? Do I like shipping them? There could be better ways of spending my time. Money? There is NONE! But I’m proud of our place in surf history. It’s important to keep it alive.

Dibi adds, “That’s my story, honey, here I am! I make the best pads in the world, we’re the original pad maker (since 1976), we’ll always have market share as long as I stay authentic. Companies went too big, they have to make their quarterly earnings. If you want big, you have to go and push your brand all over the place. Pretty soon you have no story left because you whitewashed it to death to get your corporate earnings. All the other ones have come and gone and I’m still here. It’s testament to the fact I didn’t try to make it get really big. I didn’t have to accept other people’s money. If you get too big you’ve lost the kernel of what it can be. I can still have sand in surfing. All the big companies have to appeal to the mother of a grammar school kid, do you understand? And I’ve been here before all of ’em. I sold pads to their dads! The best riders in the world in every generation. I mean, that’s something that’s kinda fantastic!”

I ask about my investment.

“Good luck on making any money, honey!”

Suddenly Dibi detonates an explosion of cackles: “Ahhhhhhhahhhahhahhh! Oh that’s funny! Honestly! I have it so lean, do you understand, no employees. I have it so lean and I run Herbie’s art thorough it to keep it going, I keep it going because, dude, it’s not because I’m making any fucking money. I keep it going because it’s the right thing to do? No one in their right fucking mind would do that. Do I like selling surf pads? Do you understand? Do I like shipping them? There could be better ways of spending my time. Money? There is NONE! But I’m proud of our place in surf history. It’s important to keep it alive. It’s the right thing for my kids, for my grandkids. It’s a part of history.”

Any more advice?

“I’ll tell you something. I’ll kick your ass at retail if you come and compete with your brand. I’ll make sure of it. Honey boy, if you don’t learn fast!”

With that, UPS is at the door and Dibi splits to grab the boxes to shop.

“That’s so fucking awesome!” she says. “Hot dog!”