Champagne time: The surf industry
apocalypse is over*!
By Chas Smith
It's a great day to be alive!
It was a miracle of modern economics. The surf
industry, which first began to fall out of the sky some 20 years
ago kept up an extremely impressive nosedive even through the
longest bull market in history.
That’s right. While global markets have added trillions and
trillions of dollars, especially during the last decade, surf has
bucked all trends, going its own way, down, down, down.
Companies like Billabong, which used to be worth well over a
billion dollars, shed value like it was the hottest game in town.
Scratching its balding pate as the money dried up, collaborating
with Andy Warhol, money drying up, collaborating with Iggy Pop,
money drying up, scratching its balding pate, very confused until
given to onetime rival Quiksilver for free.
The same Quiksilver that had just exited bankruptcy protection
under the guiding hand of Oaktree Capital Investments. A firm
specializing in “distressed assets.”
There were few bright spots. A brutal bloodletting. But now, 20
years on, it’s time to pop the even more vintage bubbly because
according to Apparel News and Lost’s Joel Cooper WE’RE BACK
BABY!
Let’s waste no more time with Andy n Iggy. Let’s get straight to
the good
stuff!
ActionWatch’s findings are good news for the surf business,
which over the past decade has been pummeled by high-profile
bankruptcies, changing tastes in youth fashion and a new retail
landscape.
The tough times paved the way for a comeback, said Joel
Cooper, chief executive officer of Lost International, the parent
company of the popular surf brand …Lost.
“The great thing about the surf industry is that it never
goes away. It’s cyclical,” Cooper said. “We’ve gone through bad
times. It is slowly improving.”
Some reasons for a rebound is the fashion cycle is turning
back toward surf and more women are interested in the category than
before, Cooper said. Bankruptcies of major surfwear companies,
including Quiksilver and Billabong, have forced the bigger
companies to streamline operations and work more
efficiently.
After Quiksilver emerged from bankruptcy, it renamed the
company Boardriders Inc. and acquired the troubled Billabong
surfwear brand.
With bigger companies working to save their businesses,
there was more room for entrepreneurs to introduce new brands,
which paved the way for more variety at surf shops, Cooper
said. “The business is coming back at a core level. Maybe we’ve
turned a corner,” he said.
Lost might be benefiting from better tides for the surfwear
industry. It recently opened its second boutique in Hawaii, giving
the company seven full-price boutiques.
Quick question here, are you going to have your champagne with
OJ, a peach purée or straight?
Oooee!
*”Over” is a relative term.
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Author relaxing while a hail of unread text messages
fly overhead.
Board review, Maurice Cole Protow, “a
specialist surfboard that gives satisfaction of a different
order…”
By Longtom
Relax and catch sets. Sit deep, carve hard. Let it
swing.
This has been a king hell biiiiatch to write, this
review. Not because I have nothing to say about the
process of ordering and receiving a custom surfboard off Maurice
Cole, a 6’3″ Protow round-pin designed for good-to-excellent Point
surf, but because the whole last week and while Derek Rielly has
been busting my nuts every day to get the review done, the surf has
been relentlessly pumping.
The exact same surf I envisioned the board to ride in.
Double-overhead Point surf, high-speed racetracks. Every day I’ve
broken contracts with myself.
Today I write it.
Today ends in a blur of surf stupefaction and a blank
screen.
Right now, I fight the strongest impulses to down tools and get
out there again.
One quick lap around the internet surf forums, or in real life
carparks puts the vexed issue of surfboards front and centre.
The list of horror stories when trying to order custom equipment
is long and never ending. My mate ordered a single fin and got a
thruster, from a shaper who has spent a career railing against the
hegemony of the three fin. You’ve probably got your own scenario
where you looked at the freshies in the rack and thought “that
can’t be it”. Fuck, it’s got my name on the stringer.
Particularly custom vs stock.
Generalist vs specialist.
I favour the specialist. It’s my belief the working gal of an
intermediate or beyond skill set can gain ground, tortoise and hare
style, over the more naturally gifted through the development and
acquisition of superior equipment. Which is custom surfboards.
That view was formed by tutelage under North Shore resident and
Cherokee Indian Craig “Owl” Chapman, who continually stressed the
importance, the advantage conferred, by having the “best board in
the line-up”.
How to get the best board in the lineup. The list of horror
stories when trying to order custom equipment is long and never
ending. My mate ordered a single fin and got a thruster, from a
shaper who has spent a career railing against the hegemony of the
three fin. You’ve probably got your own scenario where you looked
at the freshies in the rack and thought “That can’t be it”.
Fuck, it’s got my name on the stringer.
Self-knowledge, or lack of is the biggest obstacle. The line up
is full of the surfer stinking the joint up on the wrong sled. No
activity engenders so much self deception. BeachGrit’s own
Chas Smith wrote an article in Surfing Life where he
detailed some of the struggle and outsourced the knowledge to his
pal D. Rielly. Rielly identified the strengths and weaknesses in
Smith’s approach and they got to something that worked.
My prior experience with Maurice wasn’t quite so chummy.
I’d had an epic Tom Curren inspired 7’3” reverse-vee sometime in
the nineties which circumnavigated the globe and ended up left
behind in Guam as rental payment on a house. In the interim me and
Maurice had beef, sometimes epic beef on the internets. The
specifics escape me. I was a Maurice fan since he took aim at
racism in Australian politics. Maybe we came to virtual blows when
Rory Parker ended up in conflict with Cole and I got caught up
somehow. Sometime during a particularly toxic exchange I had to
take stock.
I drove a gal to the airport. Maybe she could sense my rage. She
pressed a little card into my hand when we parted and said “read
this”.
In calming shades of blue and green was written a series of
compassion exercises.
Just like me, this person is trying to avoid suffering in
his/her life. Just like me this person is learning about life.
And so on and so forth.
It did stop me in my tracks. I recalled Owl’s vision of himself
as a surfer, “It’s a better me”.
And, then scant few months later I am in email exchanges with
Maurice about a custom board.
The second great obstacle to getting the best board in the
line-up via custom equipment is what I call a category error. Every
shaper/designer has their trip. Run with it and get a great board,
if it’s dialled in correctly. Ask a shaper to go too far outside
their area of expertise and you get a version of the famous “Hold
the chicken” scene from 5 Easy Pieces. Jack Nicholson’s character
wants to fuck with what is on the menu and it all ends up in
tears.
Don’t be the gal asking a shaper to hold the chicken.
Maurice Cole specialises in concaves. It took a few emails to
nail things down. I let him know I wanted the board well and truly
in his area of expertise. A board for OH+ down the line point surf.
In his words, “A very fast surfboard that carves at high speed,
with deep concaves and hard edges”. The whole process was civilised
and painless. Confidence was high we understood each other and the
board I received would not be found on any surfboard retail
rack.
Fast and trustworthy. There’s something to be said for going out
of your own comfort zone and riding different stuff. It’s fun to be
unhinged. But when something made especially for you feels so good
right out of the gates that is a feeling of satisfaction of a
different order.
The sled arrived, via courier truck. The nose had been busted
off. I patched it up. In three months of solid abuse, that is its
only wound. Sleek lines, a nose-to-tail tucked rail edge that is
distinctive. No volume measurements but it felt very right on. The
concave was noticeable but not pronounced.
I put fins in it, waxed it up and rode it. Straight away. The
Point was a windy four-to-six foot. Paddling into twenty knots of
sideshore wind with current felt fine. The very first turn on the
very first wave felt smooth. Fast and trustworthy. There’s
something to be said for going out of your own comfort zone and
riding different stuff. It’s fun to be unhinged. But when something
made especially for you feels so good right out of the gates that
is a feeling of satisfaction of a different order.
Down-the-line point surf for
testing.
Further follow-up emails with Maurice occurred. I gave him
feedback. He asked questions. There’s no other sporting goods
manufacturer in any other sport who would do the same. No golf
clubs, no tennis racquets, no fishing rods. Surfing is unique in
that regard.
Even in a dud winter like this the surf gets good around here. I
rode it whenever it did. Replaced the stock fins with fibreglass C
drive fins. At slow speed they feel grabby and tight. At speed, on
a down-the-line wave, a hydrofoil effect comes into play. The board
seems to lift up, the wetted surface disappears and you feel like
you are sliding on ball bearings. The rail, with its edge, feels
active. Sensitive, not at all neutral like a modern shortboard
rail.
I claim the sensation to be both highly functional and
unique.
Final thoughts fresh out of five-star point surf. The problem
for the working gal in perfect surf is panic at the disco. The
mirror ball starts flashing and limbs are splaying everywhere. The
generalist short board is redlining. The solution is do to less,
the panicked mummy or daddy tries to do more.
On a better board, one made for this eventuality, you can relax
into it.
Let the board go up and down in the trim line, at least to
start. You have a better paddler than the typically underpowered
work-a-daddy or Euro lower intermediate in thrall to the latest and
greatest and industry sizing. Relax and catch sets. Sit deep, carve
hard. Let it swing. Try not to laugh (inside) when you see someone
panicked and spazzing out on the generalist board du jour.
Just like you this person is seeking to fulfill his/her
needs.
Revelation: “I no longer want to bomb the
Pacific Northwest!”
By Chas Smith
It only took two plus decades!
When was the last time you went home? I mean
home home. The place your parents raised you home. I don’t do it
often enough and blame a burning rage in my childhood heart. I’ve
written about this before, and don’t mean to bore, but I was raised
in the state of Oregon in a depressed coastal ex-logging town named
Coos Bay.
I hated it.
I hated the grey skies, the rain, the people, the oppressively
green trees, the rain and also the people who smelled like mint
flavored Skoal. It drove me crazy that I didn’t get to be from
California, just to the south, with its warm surf and its Gotcha
and its sun.
California was everything to me. It was surfing and I conflated
the two, dreaming only California dreams and hating Oregon. I vowed
that if I ever struck gold that I’d use some of the money to buy an
old airplane, fly north and unload a payload of Vietnam-era
warheads all the way from Medford in the south (where my cousins
lived) to Seattle (not in Oregon but still Pacific Northwest and
where my grandparents lived).
Time has mellowed my ambitions and age has made me fond of my
Oregonian roots. I am a forever outsider thanks to them. A man
still wildly in love with surfing, with what surfing means and more
importantly what surfing should mean, precisely because he never
belonged.
Portland on August 27th at Powells Books (7:30 pm)
Seattle on August 28th at University Bookstore (7:00 pm)
Bellingham on August 29th at Village Books (7:00 pm)
If you are anywhere around please come. I no longer want to bomb
my fellow Pacific Northwesterners. I want to hug them all.
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Listen: The songs that fuel the dreams of
Caroline Marks!
By Chas Smith
The future is Drake!
Music is such a personal thing, don’t you
think? For years and years I thought I had interestingly eclectic
taste (The Dead Milkmen featured heavily in my younger rotations)
but as I aged I realized it was just unrefined boorish taste and
now I unashamedly listen to Miley Cyrus’s Malibu especially while
writing.
In the book Cocaine + Surfing (buy here!) I
describe it as “teenage girl” taste which, in retrospect, is very
rude and could even be seen as an attempted going after the
dreams of real teenage girl Caroline Marks.
And what does the sixteen-year-old future of professional
surfing enjoy? Let’s turn to ESPN W!
While traveling the world for surfing competitions isn’t exactly
the stuff of a typical teenage life, a great playlist can help to
keep her grounded.
“I don’t always listen to music before I’m about to compete
or surf,” she said. “But when I do, ‘The Greatest’ by Sia is on
repeat. I absolutely love the words to this song. It gets me in a
happy mindset — confident and ready to take on whatever I’m
facing.”
For day-to-day training, Marks prefers rap.
“My go-go song when I’m training is ‘Trophies’ by Young
Money and Drake,” she said. “I like more upbeat songs when I’m
about to train. It’s crazy what a song can do to your mood, so for
me this song gets me hyped!”
Here is her list for you but mostly for me!
The Greatest – Sia
River – Bishop Briggs
What do you Mean? – Justin Bieber
Back to the Old – Matisyahu
Bodak Yellow – Cardi B
Feel It Still – Portugal the Man
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Remake: “Lemoore”, the sequel to kitsch
surf movie classic “North Shore”!
By Timothy Punales
Oh it's a real switcharoo!
Everything old is new again, yes? And this
includes the kitsch surf movie North Shore, which
was made in 1987 and, like all destined-to-become-cult-movies,
was ridiculed at the time by critics.
This remake, imagined by BeachGrit reader Timothy
Puñales, is set in a dystopia fifty years from now.
In a role reversal, the Hawaiian kid travels to Lemoore in an
attempt to make his name as a professional pool surfer. Oh
it’s a real switcharoo!
Let’s begin.
Hawaiian surfer Kamalei Moepono wins the championship at
Pipeline and receives as his prize a ticket to
Lemoore, California. One week later he travels to the mainland
with his handmade Bushman, a small backpack filled with a wetsuit
he has never used before and two freshwater wax pills.
“Don’t worry, mama,” Kamalei says before leaving. “Rick Kane
Junior wins 100 thousand a year as a pond surfer. I’ll come back
and buy you a new house.”
At the Ranch, he is greeted with ruthless bullying from local
surfers, led by Rick Kane Jr, son of the star of North
Shore.
“Hey guys!” says Kane Jr, “It looks like we have visits from the
past!”
The boys make fun of his board and his appearance.
“This haole thinks he can surf El Rancho with a board made by a
guy with his hands,” says another, laughing over the broken voice
of Joe Turpel coming from the loudspeakers. Turpel, who is now
eighty-seven years old, had left the WSL three years earlier and is
reporting, live, each wave made by his late friend Kelly
Slater.
Kamalei’s luck changes when he gets his dream job: working at a
high-end surf boutique selling surf fashion clothes,
accessories and the boards of his dreams, the Cable Fuego Pool
Special.
The owner of the shop is Ferdinand Aguerre II, grandson of the
President of the International Surfing Association, Fernando. The
Argentinian businessman is skilled at discovering raw talent. He
can feel that the Hawaiian deeply loves the perfection of the
machine waves and Olympic surfing.
“I have noticed that you are not a young man like any other,”
says Ferdinand. “I think that behind that ridiculous vintage surfer
image you hide a true love for pool surfing and high-performance
boards made in China.”
Ferdinand gets Pancho, the Ranch’s machine controller, to work
an extra shift at three in the morning when Kane and his friends
are usually at Lemoore’s best gentleman’s club, Leave it
to Beaver (formerly Volcanic Eruptions).
Kamalei gets twenty waves a night between three and five am.
“I have noticed that you are not a young man like any other,”
says Ferdinand. “I think that behind that ridiculous vintage surfer
image you hide a true love for pool surfing and high-performance
boards made in China.”
“Yes, sir, yes. Being the best freshwater surfer in the world is
what I’ve dreamed all my life,” says Kamalei.
Meanwhile, the Hawaiian meets Dakota, an Arizonian stripper at
Leave it to Beaver with augmented breasts and lips. She
also works in adult films. A Lemoore princess.
Ferdinand Aguerre II gives Kamalei a magic board, so fresh from
China he can smell the synthetics, just before the 50th Surf Ranch
Pro.
At the same time, Kane finds out that the North Shore’s haole is
not only is being supported by Aguerre but, in addition, he’s
screwing his favorite dancer from Leave it to Beaver.
This makes Kane furious and he tells Ferdinand that the boards
they are making in China are not what they used to be.
“These are ocean boards Ferdinand,” says Kane.
The surfers meet face to face in the final. Well, not really
face to face, as one is inside the pool and the other one at the
locker room, waiting for his turn.
The crowd is mostly on the side of Kamalei, the underdog from
the forgotten North Shore of Oahu, where not a single pool has been
built and surfers must settle for surfing only when the sea and the
wind deem it possible.
The Hawaiian rips.
But Kane is not far behind and shows why he’s the number one in
the ponds.
Michelob is sold in tremendous volume. Turkey-and-cheddar-cheese
sandwiches run out.
Kamalei rides the last wave. If he achieves a 9.9995, he will
win most prestigious tournament in the world.
The train begins its seven hundred yard journey. Kamalei paddles
and stands up.
Silence.
The crowd howls as Moepono reaches the hollow section and
prepares himself for the main act: the tube ride.
In this very moment, with every fan’s eyes on the Hawaiian, Kane
furtively approaches the train and puts a broomstick into one of
the steel wheels..
The wagon begins to slow and the wave slows down.
Kamalei Moepono gets a shampoo rinse. A head-dip.
The Hawaiian can’t understand what is happening. Each and every
one of the 785 rights he surfed there before threw the tube in the
same place where now, a mushburger, spoils his haircut.
But inside him lives an ocean surfer. A rider who has depended
on the instinct and the ability to react to face the unpredictable
waves of the sea. That’s why he decides to get of the tube line,
prepare an attack bottom turn and hit the lip with no mercy.
Like ancient times.
However, the force exerted by the wagon on the stick locked on
its wheel is so great that it finally breaks. This happens at the
exact moment when Kamalei opens from the line of the tube to lay
down his bottom turn. With the train running free again the wave
recovers its usual course, and it’s as if a South Pacific reef has
grown underneath. The wave throws.
Kamalei is out of position. He can’t reach the tube.
The trophy goes to Kane.
Someone in the audience perceives the trap and starts to mutter.
Soon, everyone boos the new champion. But he grabs both nuts with
his hands and shakes them up and down, while two girls pour
champagne on his head.
Ferdinand runs out to challenge Kane but Kamalei stops him.
“It’s just a contest,” he says.
Ferdinand smiles and winks.
Dakota interrupts the scene. She has arrived topless.
Shortly, Ferdinand, Kamalei and a couple of Chinese guys that
use to work as shapers in the Cable Fuego factory,
but were promoted to wash the floors in Ferdinand shop, engage in a
joyous gang bang.
Final credits followed by hilarious outtakes and surfing scenes
that didn’t make the final cut.