"I got stitches for Christmas!" | Photo:
lairdhamilton.com
Audio: “What does Laird get for Xmas?”
By Anthony Pancia
A pleasingly loose interview with Size King Laird
Hamilton.
Yesterday at four am, sometime
BeachGrit reporter Anthony Pancia was awoken by a phone
call from the wife of Laird Hamilton, the model and volleyballer
Gabby Reece. The reporter had been chasing an interview with Laird
and had taken to sleeping with his portable telephone under his
pillow in case of an unlikely callback.
But miracles do happen, and it is the season for the miraculous
afterall.
And with Laird stuck in a car for an hour, and in a very good
humour, the pair talked Christmas gifts (“This year I got some
stitches!”), hip replacements (“Too many lifetimes in one!”) and
the history of foil-boarding (“The only way to ride the biggest
waves on the world will be on hydro-foils.”)
Listen!
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Just in: Chas Smith Goes to Tokyo!
By Chas Smith
I know I once wrote bad things about surfing and
the Tokyo Olympics but now my heart soars!
The 2020 summer Olympics, to be held in Tokyo,
are almost here and it will be surfing’s biggest moment ever! Our
debutante ball! Our Bar Mitzvah and Bat Mitzvah and quinceañera and
christening all rolled into one!
I know I wrote the brilliantly titled The Olympics Made Surfing Lame,
Somehow just last year for The Daily Beast.
Would you allow me to read some of my own work?
Surfing is probably going to be in the 2020 Tokyo Olympics,
which is stupid and everyone I know agrees.
Oh it sings! It sings like the most shimmeringly intelligent
angel in all of heaven picked up a pen and started scribbling
a chorus but the beauty of the language obscures its messaging.
That surfing shouldn’t be in the Olympics, which is just wrong.
And can’t a gal change her mind?
The laughs we are going to have! The costumes surfers will wear
in the opening ceremony! John John Florence surfing for the newly
seceded island nation Hawai’i! Gabriel Medina leading the Brazilian
contingent in a cleanly shorn version of Girl from Ipanema
pre heats.
It will be glorious!
And I just had to come early. To see this Tokyo that will
stage our big coming out. I’ve been once before but it was a
long time ago and I had a fat orange man as my friend and
guide.
The flight from San Francisco was uneventful save United charges
for booze and I racked up a rather large bill on Titos and first
ginger but then the sweetness overpowered so shifted to soda. My
seat was littered with tiny bottles and I wondered what Kelly
Slater would think about my footprint but then remembered he
flies private to Europe and
that is a heavy personal load to carry. Much guilt etc. Our
surfers should think about this and either bring their own vodka in
glass bottles from Duty Free or just not care about Mother Earth
for 10 hrs. Kelly Slater, anyhow, would be a better source of
advice on this point.
Everything worked smoothly once we touched down at Narita and
our surfers are in for a real treat. The Japanese are polite and
helpful. I was first dubious, trying to sniff out a scam, and this
lead to confusion as the nice lady at the train station was just
trying to save me some money.
One hour later, I arrived cleanly in my hotel near the Shinagawa
station and maybe our surfers should stay here as well. It seems
both high class but in the heart of the action.
A short time after this I found myself seated at Gonpachi. It is
the restaurant that hosted the final flawless scene of Kill
Bill. You recall. When Uma Thurman savaged all the little men
with black masks. And, at the Olympics, who will our surfer version
of Uma Thurman be? Will it be John John Florence flourishing his
blade? I think likely but am also practicing my Hawai’ian
nationalism.
The restaurant, in any case, was truly fantastic with wonderful
service and delicious miso soup and sake. Our surfers should try
and I would make specific menu recommendations here but feel I’ve
already gone on too long about contrivances that add very little to
the general fund. Am I trying to be the next Rory Parker
or something?
I joke, I joke! There will only be one Rory Parker. Noted
writer, national treasure etc. etc.
In any case, so far so good for our surfers. Tomorrow I’ll head
to the beach. Or Harajuku.
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Chris Burkard’s Effervescence for
Expression
By Michael Ciaramella
Frozen fingers capture the best moments!
Chris Burkard describes arctic photography as
Type-Two fun. The kind of experience that is
dreadful in present but memorialized in the highest regard.
Comparable to surfing big waves, road trips, high school.
Burkard grew up chasing the windblown blahs of Cental Cal, only
to discover that its hilly and diverse terrain was better geared
towards photography than high quality surf. Picking up a camera at
18, he conceived a new form of expression that would come to
redefine him and his bank account.
Burkard was quick to realize that surf photos don’t pay for
shit, so he expanded his interests and captured the world as a
whole. He’s now one of (if not) the most coveted and successful
surf photogs in the world. Cold and stormy are his M.O., making
this Icelandic sojourn something of a peak moment for Chris. “This
is maybe one of the most insane things I’ve ever seen in my life,”
says he.
I found this video to be simultaneously inspiring and
destructive. I don’t generally get all mushy about surf, but
gliding under the Northern Lights might be the pinnacle of our art.
The whole ordeal appears so palpably spiritual, even existential
(hey Chas!) in nature. That said, it’s hard to conceive of
circumstances that would lead to my experiencing it. I just
don’t want it bad enough. The cold, the waiting, the trying to fit
my Beachgrit boardies over a 6-5-4 — it’s too much!
So I’ll continue to chase tropical perfection until my skin
cancers and dilapidates. But something tells me I’ll never be
fulfilled until the light at the end of the tunnel screams green
and blue and blood orange. Take me with you, Chris Burkard!
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Kepa Acero Narrowly Escapes Death at
Mundaka!
By Michael Ciaramella
Busted neck. Saved by pals!
Kepa Acero almost died on Monday. The
Basque-country native and jovial globetrotter took an exquisite
tumble at his home break of Mundaka, breaking his neck and
temporarily losing the ability to move his arms and legs. He was
saved from drowning by some of his close friends. Below is a
translation of his Instagram post on the matter.
I can only start this post by thanking everyone that has
been by my side in these past couple days. It’s been a really hard
time for me and those close to me. I would especially like to thank
Lander and Iñigo who saved my life at Mundaka. I will be forever
grateful.
The second of January, at midday, I had a near-fatal fall at
Mundaka. I fell and hit my head against the bottom, and at that
moment I lost consciousness. The only instant that I can remember
was under water – wanting to break the surface, but my hands and
legs wouldn’t obey commands.
At that moment I thought I would never come up.
I don’t remember anything else. I then found out that Lander
and Iñigo put me on their boards and took me out of the impact
zone. I even lost vision.
My friends <3 @natxogonzalez1 @nando_arostegi @eukenimasa
and @aletxugironi got me out of the water, and after hours of agony
I got to the hospital. They told me that I had broken my neck,
broken and displaced my cervical, and broken a dorsal. Miraculously
the spinal cord was not damaged so I can be thankful for
feeling and being able to move my body, legs and arms. I have the
sensation of being born twice in the same day. My thanks go to
everyone that has kept me company, to those who rescued me,
doctors, all the ones who have cheered me on, to fate and to life –
especially to life.
Thank you again, and now more than ever I am going to enjoy
life. Devour it, ‘cause it’s ours.
I get surgery on Wednesday.
A big hug to all <3<3<3<3
Scary moments for Spain’s second biggest tube-hound. We wish
Kepa the best through his surgery and road to (hopefully a full)
recovery. Left hand points wouldn’t be the same without him.
Oh and just for kicks, here’s a little edit of the swell that
almost nipped him. Kepa is the primary slider!
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Créme: 2016’s Most Blistering Short!
By Michael Ciaramella
We've got the best moving pictures!
Créme – French word for cream. Also
denotes something of top quality in modern-day English.
From here on out I’ll be delivering the Créme a la
Grit, in the form of curated surf videos and their principally
biased descriptions. Who do I think I am, Rory Parker? Hardly. In
basic terms, I am a Surfing Mag reject, hell-bent on
stoking the ashes of a five-day career in the surf biz.
For the sake of this extended series (I’ve signed on for a
month!), consider me your Cousteau of the cinematic seascape. I’ll
be scouring the web in search of deep-sea treasures, sometimes
Titanic, others pure Gold.
Either way, you can trust not to find any Larry, Curly, or Moes on
your beloved Grit. As our manifesto
states: “We believe in recycling plastic and paper and
St Laurent jeans but not clips from B-ish surfers.”
Without further ado, your first installment of Créme —
a retrospective glance at the best short of 2016: Luke Hynd and
Darcy Ward’s The Set Menu
First, Darcy Ward.
The 21-year-old Gold Coast filmmaker is talented beyond his
years. If The Set Menu didn’t moisten your muffin, then 1.
you have poor taste (Staff Picks don’t lie) and 2. take a gander at
Darcy’s Vimeo
page — there’s something here to please even the most
grizzled weblord.
Next, Lukey Hynd.
Genetic traits follow one of two presets: dominant or recessive.
Derek Hynd is the fortuitous by-product of a recessive gene orgy,
one that created an icon of eccentricity and flair. He is the
physical manifestation of good luck. A fin-forsaking anomaly. A
generous uncle.
Yes, Luke Hynd’s personal brand of cool can be directly linked
to Uncy D. The laissez-faire approach, long flowing locks, and
greed for solitude are built into the Hynd DNA. Being too young to
have experienced Derek during his explosive twenties, I relish in
the good fortune of sharing an era with his second-coming.
Lastly, The Set Menu, in whole.
A surf film succeeds when it transports the viewer
from his physical living space to an inescapable vortex of
sight and sound. From the point when Luke makes searing eye contact
with a much-too-close water camera at 1:27, I was hooked.
At 2:53, Darcy captures one of the most cinematically
flawless surf shots of all time. If those don’t cut
it, Luke’s solo sessions at not one but two
terrifying slabs are enough to make the blood run arctic.
The Set Menu was the best short of 2016. If you
haven’t already, go give ’em a click.
