Dane Reynolds and pals embark on wildest adventure
yet!
As one of the proprietors of a thriving
internet business I know a few tricks of this trade. .com means
“company” .edu means “educational” .gov means “governmental” and
.xxx means “porn.”
And I don’t even have to tell you of my excitement when I
stumbled upon Dane Reynolds/Craig Anderson’s newest project.
I can’t tell yet exactly what kind of porn. Each unique visitor
is brought into a dark room with a stark white fingerprint
maybe or sunrise. Exploration is expressly forbidden. There are no
secret links or ways out or at least none that I’ve found. A sense
of foreboding soon replaces general well-being which leads me to
believe it’ll be a dominatrix thing. Submissives getting paraded
around with rubber balls in mouths etc.
But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it is some newer sort of subgenre
kaiju.
Do you have any ideas? What would you like to see?
Would you risk life and limb to ride a quality
A-frame?
“Fuck the taxi” reads Stradbroke Island’s most
cherished drainpipe.
This is the local surfers’ response to overcrowding at the Gold
Coast’s premier beachie, South Strad, a wave that breaks on the
wrong side of a three-hundred meter channel. In order to surf the
spot, riders are forced to cross the supposedly shark-infested
(Derek don’t believe it) inlet by way of paddling or, in the case
of bein’ a lil’ bitch-ass, paying some guy five bucks for a taxi
across the pond.
This taxi debate has been simmering since the mid-nineties,
but a recent influx of swell and crowds sent Straddie
“locals” into a boiling rage, leading to a series of offensive
slurs graffitied upon the Straddie sand-spitter. They read:
Taxi = dog act Fuck off taxi cunt! Respect is earned not given Paddle or die Fuck off Brazilian snakes!
…Aussies are always good for a little profanity and subtle
racism.
During my four month stint on the Gold Coast, I managed to
survive the paddle on a handful of occasions. I never took the
boat, partly because Aussie money is fucked (what kind of lunatics
walk around with coins in their pockets?) but mostly because my
local friends were ascribed to this hardcore mentality. To paddle
across the channel proves your devotion and courage, while
taxigoers might as well stitch a big, pink ‘P’ right over their
Billabong wetsuit logo.
Unless of course you’re a Mad Huey or one of the other twenty
locals who docks a boat/ski just offshore. That shit is encouraged.
It’s those damn immigrants with their economical, more
environmental friendly ride-shares who are stealing all the
stoke.
But while I disagree with the locals’ logic, I do understand
their contempt. The Goldy is perhaps the most
crowded surf zone in the world, and Straddie was one of their last
hidden gems. Since its creation in 1986, the Southport Seaway has
acted as a final line of defense — a moat, really — for this
once-uncrowded break.
The taxi negates the Seaway’s effects by providing a shark-free,
current-defying (the rip gets damn fierce) access point to an
extremely desirable locale, perhaps inflating its daily
visitor-count by a significant amount. The Gold
Coast Bulletin states that up to four-hundred
surfers hit Straddie on a weekend with good waves. The
number of those who utilize the taxi is unreported, but from
personal experience I’d wager it’s close to 25%,
maybe worse in the summer.
If you’re wondering what all the fuss is about, here’s an aged
clip of Strad doing its thing.
And whenever a new wave is discovered it spins
our imagination like nothing else. Mick Fanning’s reverse Skeleton
Bay is such a wonderful example. We all watch once, twice, then
race to find where the wave is and then someone finds and
shares with the world and some celebrate and some book tickets and
some wag their tongues.
But what are the ethics?
Pre-Internet it was simple. Nobody says nothin. But what about
today? What about our time?
Stab seems to think the old rule still applies:
Mick surfs in an undisclosed location (the lack of landmarks
in photo and film is no accident). But, we all know there’s no
secrets anymore, not in 2017, not with Google Maps, not with The
Inertia (and no, we won’t link the article which has hopefully
been deleted by now).
Such a high horse to be perched upon! A high, nostalgic silly
horse wearing a Modom anti-shark leash around his hooves!
To pretend that GoogleMaps and the rest of our tools don’t exist
is to be willfully ignorant. To be backward looking and, well,
dumb. And look at Stab being dumber than The
Inertia! Also holier than thou! It’s Wacky Wednesday!
There are only two culpable parties to blame for the revelation
of where this new magical wave exists.
Mick Fanning and his Rip Curl.
If they wanted to keep it secret then they should have kept it
secret. No photos. No film. Just the joy of being there.
Stab referencing the “lack of landmarks in photo and
film” is, again, willfully ignorant of modern technology. Once an
image or clip is shared, no matter how tight the frame, it is easy
for sleuths to discover.
Oh, I don’t think Mick Fanning and his Rip Curl are bad for
sharing, I just think ethically, they may as well have released the
clip titled Ain’t No Wave Pool… It’s maybe
Mauritania! (even though I’m a little doubtful about
it being Mauritania because I don’t think Mick would have the guts
to go there…)
World number 2 Jordy Smith buys a bar! Or maybe
three!
Jordy Smith had a very wonderful finish to his
2016 World Surf League campaign. Oh sure, John John won it all but
second place ain’t half bad. And how would you celebrate such a
monumental achievement? Would you buy a car? What about a bar?
That’s what Jordy did! He bought a bar! Three of them (I
think)!
The new place is called #SurfHarD (I think) and appears to be
very high concept. One building with three different zones for
three different types of person. There is District, which is a
nightclub, Harringtons, which is a cocktail bar, and Surfer Rosa,
which is a punk bar. (Maybe)
Here…I am clearly a little confused. Let’s have Jordy walk us
through!
And does that clear it up for you? Good! So which would you most
like to spend your time? Are you a bottle service kind of man or a
martini with bird on glass sort? Or do you, to, wanna let your hair
down and bang away to some Motörhead?
Were you driven just a little mad by Mick Fanning’s
sandbottom point reveal? Did you drive all over
the internet trying to get a little bite on where it might be?
Is it Mex? Is somewhere around the horn? The Caribbean?
Or might it be somewhere deep in the heart of the Maghreb?
In this video made by the Basque surfer Kept Acero two years
ago, he travels to The Islamic Republic of Mauritania to hunt a
sandbottom right. It’s a place that still enslaves its people
(twenty per cent of ’em) and where the rest are earning a
buck-and-a-half a day.
Oh it’s a hell of a joint.
Does the wave, here, look familiar?
It’s too small for shredding, yes, but you do see the
potential?
Does it make you want to plop out your little breasts and shriek
and scream?
