I was driving in my car through unseasonably
brisk weather today and listening to the radio when a story came on
about cultural appropriation. Apparently there is a reggae
group in England and when they are performing the lead singer will
stop the show if she sees white people wearing dreadlocks and ask
them to leave. Cultural appropriation she says and wrong. The
journalist asked her if it were any exceptions to her rule. She
thought for a moment before answering, “No. It is always
wrong.”
“Hmmmm” I thought while chuckling about white people who get
dreadlocks while also thinking about surfing.
Our favorite pastime either began in Polynesia or in Peru,
depending on who you ask, and was a component of religion or
old-school fishing, depending again on those same people. It did
not, in any case, begin in southern California or Australia.
And that makes us all cultural appropriators and likely
racist.
I think, in a gesture of good faith, everyone at The
Inertia should stop surfing. I also think anyone who listens
to reggae should stop surfing too. And anyone who prefers açai
bowls to ice cream. And anyone who drives a Korean-made car. And
anyone who uses, “Mahalo” unless Hawaiian and/or ironic. And anyone
who celebrates Taco Tuesday.
It is only right.
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Blowing a shoulder at Pipe or getting the breeze
squeezed out of your lungs at Sunset, either way y'dancing with the
devil. | Photo: WSL
Wipeout: Sunset vs. Pipeline!
By Chas Smith
Which wave would you rather wear?
The boys, our boys, are ready to tackle Sunset
next, the second jewel in the Triple Crown, and the forecast is for
big, burly surf. Heavy, rolling surf and do you like watching
Sunset? Do you love the size of the field? The unpredictability?
Back in 1980, famous surf journalist and editor of Surfer
magazine Drew Kampion wrote Sunset “…is the standard by which other
waves are measured, and the best surfers here are the best surfers,
period.”
Over the years its shine has dimmed coinciding with Pipeline’s
nuclear glow but I do think that Sunset is primed for a comeback.
It is a wave that mocks the very idea of wave tanks. A wave the
ocean should be proud of.
I’ve sat near the lifeguard towers there for a few World Cups,
watching the boys, our boys, traverse the huge canvas. It’s a
marvel that anyone knows where to sit. Pipeline seems easy to
understand or at least easier. Everyone has a marker. Everyone has
a corner. Sunset seems unknowable.
Yes, I’ve seen many big wipeouts at both Sunset and Pipeline and
always felt worse for the ones who wear Pipeline on the head but a
recent conversation with the great Michael Tomson has changed my
mind. Tomson, of course, made a name for himself at both waves as
part of the “Bustin Down the Door” crew. And let’s listen to him
compare wipeouts at both.
I’ve nearly died at Sunset twice. At 50 and 52. And this one
time I was out there and this set popped up and I said, “Fuck it.
I’m gonna go.” And there it was, life on the table, got pounded,
held down, thought I was dying right? Next thing is I’m being
pulled up on a board. I couldn’t focus on anything, had to go to
the hospital, it was all fucked. So I had another one like that at
Sunset and I have become so careful now because when you fall there
it is worse than Pipeline. Pipeline is violent but short. Sunset
gets a hold of you in a fucking half-nelson then keeps you down for
the longest time and then there is always seven waves behind it. I
get cold thinking about some of the wipeouts I’ve had
there…
And there you have it. A little something to think about as you
watch the action either today or tomorrow.
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A little man protects his precious hearing holes with
Surf Ears for kids.
Review: Surf Makes Kids Deaf!
By Derek Rielly
Protect his precious little hearing holes!
One year ago, almost to the day, I wrote about
being overcome by deafness. A few months of cold winds and my
left ear was as useless as a two-hundred dollar shark repellent
leg-rope.
(Or Anne Frank’s drum kit, inflatable dart board, a sense of
humour at a Greens Party convention etc.)
Have you ever been deaf?
You smile inappropriately in conversation and look blank when
asked questions. You narrow your eyes and stare at lips, trying to
read whatever they’re saying. All you hear is the thump of your
heartbeat and the swishing of water when you surf, as if you were
watching raw footage from a GoPro. Your voice becomes a honk and
your vowels so blunt to be incomprehensible.
Then, I was talking to Tom Carroll for a political book project
(the two-time world champ boycotted South Africa in the eighties
because of the White Devil’s apartheid
there) and we were talking about how shitty it is to be deaf.
Tom suggested I might wanna look up Surf Ears, a Swedish start-up he’s involved
in. Even with Tom’s enthusiastic endorsement I wasn’t entirely
convinced they’d work given his championing of the shoulder-zip
wetsuit in the nineties and shark repellants recently.
But I called ’em in Malmo, spoke to an impressive man called
Magnus Ekermann.
Told Magnus I was writing a story.
In return, they sent a gorgeously presented ear-plug kit (very
Scandi). Aesthetically, they were better than any ear plugs I’d
seen. I threw ’em in every time I surfed.
Gradually my ear dried out. Soon, I could hear.
And wearing these things wasn’t so bad ’cause there’s a small
opening that allows sound to enter. You know how you talk to
someone in the water and they pull out their plugs out to talk? It
ain’t no way to live. The Surf Ears allow a conversation
to flow.
Anyway, I liked ’em so much that when I lost my complimentary
pair a month or so later I didn’t hesitate to pay full freight on a
new set.
Recently, Surf Ears released a kid version. If you’ve
got kids you’ll know they’re a catch-all for disease and all sorts
of syndromes. And the little ingrates act as if you personally
jabbed ’em with the virus, the pain. All-day, all-night
whimpering.
Ears are the worst. Get ’em inflamed or infected and…oowee…
tears, wailing, tantrums. There isn’t enough paracetamol in
all the world to calm ’em.
My kids surf so I plug their holes up with adult Surf
Ears. Which work good enough (my kids got big heads) but, as
Magnus told me recently, he’d just loosed a little version for
average-sized kids, aged four to twelve.
Here, Kelly explains to an agog John John how he proved
the earth to be curved. | Photo: @tsherms
Blood feud: Slater’s challenge to
flat-earthers!
By Derek Rielly
Prove the earth is flat and win money from Kelly
Slater!
Do you remember, in July this year, when flat-earthers
turned on Kelly Slater? It’s a must read! (Click
here.)
Pertinent quotes: “WHAT DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT THIS YOU
DUMB SHIT? WHAT AREN’T YOU GETTING? I KNOW YOU ARE STUPID, BUT I
DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE THIS FUCKING STUPID! NO VERIFIABLE CURVE MEANS
NO CURVE DUMMY.”
and
“NOW GO FIND THAT CURVE WITH YOUR MILLIONS OR SHUT THE FUCK UP
OR CHOOSE TO CONTINUE TO LOOK LIKE A BITCH! ALL YOUR DUMB ASS HAS
TO DO IS SHOW US WHERE TO VERIFY THIS CURVE OF EARTH!”
Amid the 864 comments came Kelly Slater, with a challenge!
“The education system has truly failed half the people on
here in disseminating information and analyzing truth. The govt has
made you all paranoid. I told Eddie this,” wrote Kelly. “You flat
earthers get your money together, charter a flight from Santiago
Chile across the South Pole to Perth, Australia. If you find an
edge I’ll reimburse the price of the flight. Let’s quit talking and
be done with this conjecture and assumption you have. I think flat
earth people want truth and are attempting to fight division in
society at their core yet they’ve gotten stuck in the pitfall and
created more division in its wake. Let’s do this. Put your money
where your mouth is. We can hold the money in escrow while the
flight happens.”
Quickly followed by.
“Study storms and swell charts. Watch where the swells begin
and how we follow them around the great circle lines of the earth.
A swell can start off the east coast of Africa and reach Alaska
about two weeks later measurably while being followed across the
entirety of the ocean in between. Go study your maps and tell me
how that’s possible on the flat earth. I’ll be waiting.”
Now, the problem with going to battle with people who believe
the earth is flat, the moon landing was faked, chemtrails are
poisoning us all, the Jews were the real villains behind 9-11 etc,
is the debate becomes very silly, very fast.
Bravo’s follows flew into battle:
…yelling at and over people in debates to get your point
across shows you’re uncomfortable with a rational conversation
about actual factual evidence. 24 hour sun in Antarctica thoroughly
disproves and debunks any theory of flat earth. So does the flight
from Sydney to Santiago alone! This photo just looks wide
angle/fisheye. That would be too great a curve at this
altitude.
kellyslater@timbeathamit proves a lot
actually. Truth fears no scrutiny. Not letting people get a word in
is just avoidance or immaturity. @king_khan21 wrong about what?
Saying someone is wrong doesn’t make it so. Use some facts here if
you want a rational debate on topic.
kellyslater@kvnblckdrkeep parroting. While
you’re at it go and debate someone who actually shows proven tests
on his YouTube channel and attempt to debunk flight paths,
surveyor’s level testing horizons, ships disappearing etc.
wolfie6020.
kellyslater@kvnblckdrname any flight and
let’s talk about it. Or should I? Use the ones dubay talks about.
He’s wrong about most of the flight paths he references cause I’ve
taken them. I’m fine to be proven wrong also so let’s have
one.
omarlcc@kellyslaterI don’t think I’ve seen
Eddie yelling at it over anybody in a debate. He is normally pretty
level headed and is usually the one being yelled at and ganged up
on for pointing out what is seemingly obvious. The flight from
Sydney to Santiago doesn’t prove that we are on a spinning ball or
that we are not on a flat plane (haha get it, airplane), if thats
what you were implying. If you like facts whydont you look into the
physics of airplane flight. Planes can’t stop in midair to turn
land on a runway perpendicular to the takeoff runway without
veering off. Also you speak of factual evidence about 24 hour sun
in Antarctica but I doubt you’ve been there. What factual evidence
of 24 hour sun Antarctica do you have? I haven’t seen any and
believe me I’ve looked. I have on the other hand seen morphed
videos, cameras cutting out for a few hours every day, and other
simple tricks. Please do tell.
kellyslater@omarlccI’ve had numerous
friends see the 24 hour sun in Antarctica. But I suppose they’re
lying also? And every clip anyone has ever made of it cause they
were paid to be in on the conspiracy also, right? Do you know how
many things that are proven you have to disprove to have a flat
earth? The flat earth map has Santiago and Sydney about 23 hour
flight or roughly 13,000 miles apart yet I’ve flown that many times
in about 13 hours. Spherical geometry and distances and direction
between cities easily proves a globe. Please go educate yourself.
Learn
omarlcc@kellyslaterYou’ve had numerous
friends go to Antarctica? What were they researchers? Sightseeing?
Doesn’t pass my smell test tbh and regardless that’s not proof to
me or you. Proof is proof, and I don’t know you beyond your surfing
abilities, so sorry it’s nothing personal. Not sure what map you’re
talking about but I’ve never seen a flat map that was 13k miles in
diameter let alone from Sydney to Santiago. No map is perfect,
especially not flat projections of a globe.
It goes on and on…forever. Follow the trail here.
And watch Eddie Bravo in action below.
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Memoir: Daddy’s first hit of cocaine!
By Chas Smith
"To be happy near hell is something."
Forgive my scatterbrained and silly output of
late. I received the first round of edits for my upcoming
book from the publisher, you see, and ooooo-ee. Jumping
back into those weeds with a sharpened machete feels both good and
terrifying. I haven’t looked at the thing in six months and am
swinging at every bloated piece of nonsense, trying to lop and trim
without totally destroying. It is strange work. Odd.
Yesterday I cut a ramble about my first taste of cocaine. Oh I
know coca and cocaine are not the same thing but
let’s not get hung up on semantics here ok? Can we just agree not
to get caught up on semantics? And without further ado I present a
bloated piece of nonsense that will never see the light of day
except briefly here and now.
But I know this feeling or at least a hint of it. I was in
Bolivia once many years ago right when famed cocaine grower Evo
Morales assumed political power and in Potosí where the silver
mines drop thousands of feet into Mother Earth. I can’t remember
why but outside it was miserable. That bitter sort of cold that
hovers in thin above the tree line. A very bland color palette
compounded the chill. The regional delicacy, if I recall, was
frozen potatoes kept in the permafrost then stomped on with dirty
feet. Maybe this isn’t entirely accurate but I know that I was
wearing the most unfortunate herringbone sport coat over hooded
sweatshirt combo. Not only was it not warm, I looked like a 5th
grade teacher at a Christian school. Very embarrassing. Very
un-chic.
Since there is nothing to do in Potosí except be depressed
and eat frozen dirty foot potatoes I decided to drop deep into one
of those silver mines that gouge the surrounding hills. There was a
longish walk in the thin air from a bus stop to the mine’s entrance
and I was given a bag of coca leaves and some sort of ash tea to
sip and activate the leaves on the way.
I popped some into my mouth and began chewing and chewing
and chewing. Munching. That’s what they say to do. Munch, don’t
chew. Munching and building a little green ball in my cheek and
saturating it was ash tea every once in a while.
It was difficult at first. The taste of leaves is not
pleasant really and the ash tea made it worse. I’ve chewed loads of
qat, the leaf that natives munch in Yemen, Somalia, Djibouti,
Nigeria and Ethiopia, and in my poor memory, coca was much worse.
Much more bitter with much less initial thrill. Like coca, qat is a
stimulant. Unlike coca it cannot be made into cocaine and so
remains an internationally outlawed, but not generally prosecuted,
local novelty. I will say, it provides a nice buzz and would work
well in American, European or Australian hipster circles if any of
them ever got around to chewing plants besides kale.
In any case, I walked ugly and bored munching my coca until
reaching the mine’s gaping mouth, climbed into an ancient elevator
and dropped a thousand or so feet into the middle of planet Earth
and suddenly the chill was gone and the high altitude was gone. It
was thick and warm. Almost tropical. Tiny dug passageways shot
every which way where hunched backed and put upon miners crawled on
hands and knees still digging silver from the Earth. My mouth was
numb and my spirits were relatively high. Not like
“let’s-talk-about-all-the-bad-things-in-the-world-and-make-them-better-with-our-shared-genius”
high but happy. And to be happy near hell is something.
There were hundreds of years of passages dug this way and
that and I took the ones I was allowed to take, eventually ending
up in front of a red satanic looking statue the miners call El Tio.
They say Jesus has no power in the mine, that El Tio rules down
here, and they stick cigarettes in his mouth and lay coca leaves at
his feet as offerings and maybe weird pornography feat. short
ladies in weird poses.
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Jon Pyzel and Matt Biolos by
@theneedforshutterspeed/Step Bros
