Kalani Chapman wipeout
LIfeguards successfully perform CPR on Pipeline big-waver Kalani Chapman after a wipeout at Da Hui Backdoor Shootout.

Kalani Chapman Almost Dies at Pipe!

Big-waver found unconscious, no pulse, after wipeout… 

It’s a sobering sight to see lifeguards surround a lifeless soul on the beach as they take turns pumping his chest, desperate to kick-start a dead heart.

Yesterday afternoon, in the final heat of the day’s Da Hui Backdoor Shootout, Kalani Chapman rode a Second Reef Pipe wave to the Ehukai sandbar where he wiped out in the tube. He didn’t come up.


Competitors Seth Moniz and Nathan Florence saw Kalani’s tombstoning board and pulled him to the surface with his leash. Unconscious, Kalani was dragged onto the surf patrol’s sled and taken to the beach where CPR was successfully performed.

Kalani, who is thirty four years old and the half-brother of another Pipeline charger Shawn Briley and nephew of North Shore icon Owl Chapman, was one of  handful of angels who rescued Evan Geiselman when he was knocked unconscious at Pipe last year.

You can see Kalani’s rescue, below, at the fifty-second mark. Hawaii News Now – KGMB and KHNL

Eureka: Introducing our new star!

The contest to Be Our Next Rory Parker ends with a bang!

Three-ish weeks ago Rory Parker left the building and maybe broke some hearts on his way out the door. He didn’t break my heart. I didn’t care and was also glad to be done with his limp whinging, his overcooked noodle of a bad attitude. In my eyes the Rory Parker Method was summed up, quite neatly, by his ham-fisted hatred of children.

Easy targets with no way to punch back.

Anyhow, it excited me to get on with it. Was there another voice out there waiting to be heard? An undiscovered star who simply needed a stage?

And of course there was! As fate would have it an eleven-year-old girl smashed any piece of writing that has ever been on our beloved BeachGrit!

Sabre Norris!

Oh did you read her work today? It is splendid in almost every way from rhythm to timing to content to delivery to voice to style to honesty to lack of pretension. It was glorious to read, funny, informative and… well… fun!

The perfect blend!

I read it just minutes ago (in Japan, snowboarding etc.) over the great Travis Rice’s shoulder. He had to turn around four times, four, and say, “She wrote this?” I smiled and nodded yes.

Sabre… you’ve got a very bright future no matter what you choose to do. A Matt Biolos surfboard (trust me… you’ll love even if you have a board sponsor already). And a spot on BeachGrit whenever you’ve got something to say.

I would write “You win!”

… except we are actually the winners.

FORMER Releases Cryptic Insta Account

What's going on here....

Three years ago Dane Reynolds made an Instagram account because of Cam Richards. Three hours ago Former made an Instagram account, Luxurious29.99, because business needed to be handled once more.

And the content? Strange, cryptic, very What-Youthy.

Here are a couple examples of their caption-less “art”.

T-shirt graphics or Michael Jackson’s over-zoomed eyebrows? Who knows!

Do I like it, aesthetically? Not really. Does it tell us anything? Nup. Am I missing something? Probably.

Then again art has never been my thing, the modern variety in particular. But even outside of personal preference, I just don’t understand the point of this release. In theory multiple functioning minds approved this plan, meaning that there should be some sort of big idea behind it. But when I see the Instagram all I can think is that they’re attempting to be enigmatic and cool, a pursuit which ultimately lends itself to the contrary.

The only bit of info I can haphazardly infer is that they’ll be selling “luxurious” somethings (probably shirts) for $29.99 a pop. To which I ask: USD or AUD? The answer to this query could make or break their entire scheme.

Hey that reminds me… Derek did you mean 150 Australian or American peanuts for the month?

Brad Flora: The New Noa Deane?

Portugal bares its teeth but Brad bites back!

2017 arrives and the world continues its erratic but altogether downward spiral. Noa Deane inks a reported 500k per annum deal with Volcom, meanwhile Rip Curl cuts off Brad Flora’s supply of wetsuits, T-shirts, and food stamps. This seems unjust condsidering they are, basically, the same person.

Don’t believe me? Let’s take a look at the data:

Well, well, well. Nepotism rears its dreadful head once again. I’m not saying that Noa is only rich and famous because his parents were great surfers from a historically prevalent surfing region, but this Excel spreadsheet is.

After all Brad is from Maryland. The Old-Line State. Known mostly for an aquarium and the fact that our nation’s capital has sieged its western border. Maryland also has a small coastal community called Ocean City (how clever!), and like the majority of the east coast it sometimes gets a decent wave. This is where Brad honed his craft.

But Brad was always bigger than Ocean City, so by way of a Rip Curl contract he moved to California to pursue his passion of rinsing chicks and puffing darts. He also found the Pacific shores a suitable place to surf, so in his free time he took to the sea.

Brad’s surfing commands attention. When he takes off, the collective lineup peers over its shoulder, anxiously awaiting whatever spin/flip/tweak variation may be in store. He’ll hit any section, regardless of pier or rock or human in his direct field of vision. Sounds trite, but he truly doesn’t seem to give a fuck, and it’s fabulous.

Only his knees and ankles and Rip Curl may feel differently.

Sabre Norris Derek Rielly
Sabre and DR interview for an upcoming documentary at the kid's house west of Newcastle, Australia. | Photo: Luke Farquhar

Sabre: “A Day in the Life of Derek Rielly!”

Talk-show superstar Sabre Norris analyses the behaviour of BeachGrit reporter… 

(Editor’s note: Recently, BeachGrit spent a day shooting a documentary on the surf-talkshow superstar Sabre Norris. The next day we published a story, One Day in the Life of Sabre Norris. Yesterday, Sabre, who is eleven years old, sent the following story.)

Who is Derek Rielly? Yes, yes, I know he writes for BeachGrit, maybe every third or fifth article and you get to see a little picture of his face at the top of the articles he writes.

But what is he really like? Well, I got to meet him in real life, we went surfing and I’m gonna tell you what I learnt.

Top three bangers.

1. He actually doesn’t swear as much in real life as he does when he writes. He did say “shit” one time though, which was pretty cool.

2. His worst person to interview is Jack Freestone. (I’m worried this will hurt Jack’s feelings if I say this.)

3. It was love at first sight when he met his wife Annmarie. He married her because she had red lips and big gorgeous eyes mixed in with a good brain and ambition.

I actually nearly didn’t get to meet Derek in real life because a couple of days earlier my Mum wanted to ban Derek from coming to our house. She thought he was going to cook me in his writing. You see, I had just been cooked by another mag. They didn’t like me on the Ellen show. They wrote an article (they changed it now but) and they talked about some of the things that were wrong with me. It made me feel embarrassed and I wished I’d said different things.

But Derek wrote an article too. He didn’t write bad things even though BeachGrit is hardcore candy and I wear a Gath helmet in one-foot beachbreaks.

So how bad I was feeling about other mag not liking me was overtaken by the nice things Derek wrote. So when Mum said he couldn’t come I had to fight for him.

“Come on Mum, this guy is the inventor of Stab and now he’s inventing BeachGrit! That’s the equivalent of winning two world titles, maybe even equally Kelly Slater’s eleven. Please don’t blow this chance for me.” With a lot of begging and pleading, mum reluctantly said yes.

So. The plan was to meet at the Cowrie Hole for a surf.

Our black van, which was stuffed like an over-filled sausage of stoke and froth, rolled up into the carpark. Dead ahead was my local break the Cowrie Hole. I popped my wetty on and jumped outside. Instantly, a white, and moderately ruined Audi A3, appeared behind me.

A man’s head poked out the door and out came his muscle body. He looked like a hipster wood-cutter from Canada, like the guy smoking ciggies down the street. He trudged his sandals (not Reef) towards me.

I was alarmed. Was he going to hit me?

“Hey Sabre!” the man said, “It’s me, Derek.”

Phew, what a relief!

Derek wasn’t what I thought he’d be. For sure, I thought Derek would be Mr Surf, fully decked out from top-to-toe in surf gear, but I couldn’t see a Billabong or Rip Curl logo anywhere. He had his own style.

We proceed to the beach, surfboards under our arms.

I asked, “Who’s your favourite surfer?” He said, Noa Deane. I wondered why it was Noa Deane but as soon as Derek stood up on his surfboard, the answer was right in front of me. You know how Noa Deane has an admirable style? Well, Derek also has a cool, first-rate style, a little olden-day mixed in too. And I couldn’t believe he was wearing boardshorts. Any normal person would get hypothermia!

We carried our dripping surfboards back to the car. Derek said I could ride in his Audi. I wasn’t going to let a chance like that go to waste so I hopped in. I’ve been in some friends’ parents’ cars and they want you to act like a statue. The parents barely want you to breathe let alone eat, say, an apple.

Derek wasn’t like that. I could tell because there was popcorn and sand smashed into the leather seats. He said he would rather have happy kids than a clean car. I was starting to like this guy.

First question I asked: “What’s your dream car?”

Answer: Porsche Macan.

Second question: “How much did you sell your half of Stab for?”

Answer: Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars although the other partner sold his a few years later for five million.

According to my calculations, Derek lost 23 Porsches and 30,000 doughnuts.

“Did that hurt you?” I asked.

“Well, not really,” said Derek. He told me that as long as his boys and fashion designer wife were healthy, that’s what is truly important. Not money. And, also, his partner had worked very hard for the money, he had a beautiful family too, and that he deserved every cent.

I stopped talking and thought in my head for a bit. You know who Derek reminds me of? Carissa Moore. She told me once that she would rather a house full of love than expensive furniture. Derek’s brain thinks like Carissa. I think they would be great friends.

In the car, I explained to Derek that writing is one of my deepest and greatest passions. I was so excited to show Derek, a professional author who is writing a book about Bob Hawke right this instant, my journal.

Sometimes, I get the feeling that grownups pretend to care and they can’t really be bothered to read it. I didn’t get this feeling from Derek. And instead of telling me, “That’s great just keep trying”, he gave me proper advice about how I can get to the next level. Then he even read my sister’s and brother’s books all the way to the end so they didn’t feel left out.

My Dad refused to blow up an inflatable pool toy so my brother asked Derek to. I marvelled as I watched him blow this doughnut with a two-metre radius up in three minutes flat. His lungs were the stuff of a big-wave surfer. I guess Bondi where Derek lives is pretty close to Mark Mathews at Maroubra. Maybe he does breath-control training with Mark and Nam Baldwin? Now his answer that the biggest wave he ever caught was twelve foot made sense to me.

After Derek scoffed down some Mars Bar slice he worked out the secret to make my Mum happy, which is to say how great her cooking is. It actually isn’t hard because it’s really nice.

Then Derek set a record. He was the first person who actually took my Dad up on his offer to do a swim lesson. I think I’m going to make him a medal for his achievement. Dad is always trying to make someone swim better but no one is normally interested. Derek has a swim race coming against all the French daddies at his sons’ French school. I hope he smokes them and he defends his title in March for the fourth year straight.

But after that he missed his family so he decided to leave.

I gave him the rest of the Mar’s Bar slice to take home to his kids Jones and Gard. I was frothing over their unusual names because I have a weird name too. Jones was named after the director Spike Jonze, who Derek met for the first time at Mark Mathews’ Cape Fear event. Gard because Gard Chapin was the cool dad of Miki Dora. Both his kids can speak French and love basketball. Derek said if I ever meet them they will help me to learn to catch a ball.

“Bye Derek!” my siblings and I called out as his slightly trashed Audi drove away.

Yeah, it wasn’t a Porsche Macan but maybe if he was driving a Porsche he would’ve been too rich to come to my house.