Help: “I just got burned by a thirteen-year-old girl!”

Surf travel stories are the glue that holds us all together.

(Colin Wiseman is content director for the world’s last snowboard magazine)

I was two paddles deep, looking over the edge, when her tanned little legs blasted my face with salt spray. I pulled back and watched her disappear down the line, find the lip, disappear again.

“I just got burned by a 13-year-old girl,” I muttered.

No one was listening. And if they were, they didn’t care.

It was a clean, clear morning with overhead waves—heavy for a low-intermediate surfer like me. A light offshore breeze. Idyllic. A long period swell rolled off open ocean and jacked up into peeling walls and thumping closeouts over the cobbled bottom, with the occasional barrel on the inside. Far removed from the beginner free-for-all of Cerritos, this was a spot worth some respect, with a small local crew equal parts Mexican and expat.

They mostly seemed nice. Except for this princess of the Baja. I’d been sitting in the perfect position when she appeared from the inside, spun, and kicked water up my zinc-stained nostrils.

The worst kind of burn.

There were five or six folks in the water at this quiet break near Todos Santos, and all seemed down to share. Except this one dude sitting out the back. He eyed me as the girl paddled back out. She sat close to him and spoke, unsmiling. That must be dad. Fuckin’ dad.

I fumed and ran scenarios of what would have happened if I’d kept paddling. Would I have met dad on the beach? Bowled over a 90-pound teenage girl for a wave? Had dad had spotted me swimming down the line earlier and told her to go burn the gringo photographer? Fuckin’ dad. Must be dad’s fault.

On the next set, she dropped in momentarily, then kicked out. Either this girl ran the break or there was something I didn’t know. Maybe it was the kooky hat I wore to keep my pale PNW sniffer hidden from the blistering sun, a dead giveaway of foreign affiliation.

I found a few more shoulders and went in. My friend Devon was already on the beach. He’d been here a few weeks, rents a house nearby for a month every fall. I’ve been joining him for a week or two for the past five years, working my way up to this wave, finally starting to feel it a bit.

“I got burned by a 13-year-old girl,” I told him.

“Oh her? They live here. They’re from France. They used to live in a bus, moved here so they could have a house and she could work on her surfing.”

Apparently, she’s got CT dreams, and so does dad. Devon’s the kind of guy who talks to everyone. He’s got his own 13-year-old daughter with a competitive drive in snowboarding. He seemed to be proud of this little drop-in artist.

“She does surf pretty well,” I admitted, watching her draw backside lines, catching three times as many waves as anyone else. “Still doesn’t mean she should drop in like that.”
When we left for breakfast she was still out there, hammering away at the lip like a metronome.

Training.

A week later, I paddled out at Cerritos. The most popular break in the area, with drive-up access, board rentals and an easy rip out the back, it’s usually packed with sunburned gringos on foamies wearing sunglasses. But this day it was big, unruly, only a few people out. I was with my friend Barry, usually a longboarder, who decided his fish was more appropriate for the day.

We fought our way through a closed out inside bar, took position, and waited. A set came my way. I dropped, heading left. And there she was again, skimming down the line in front of me. But she kicked out. When I reached the end of my ride and paddled past, she held up her hand.

“Sorry,” she said with a smile.

I waved back. “No worries.”

Maybe there’s hope for the expat youth after all. Or maybe she was just taking pity on me.

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Report: Chris Brown fell off cliff, drowned, “while under the influence of a high level of methamphetamine,” says coroner.

"He sustained blunt force injuries that were significant enough that he was unable to remove himself from the surf line and drowned as a result." 

Meth, hell of a drug ain’t she. The Santa Babs Police Department has reported that the former pro Chris Brown, who was forty eight, was “under the influence of a high level of methamphetamine” when he fell from a cliff and drowned two weeks ago.

“According to the investigation and toxicology reports, the decent was under the influence of a high level of methamphetamine when descended from a cliff to a rocky surf line below,” said police spokesman Anthony Wagner. “He sustained blunt force injuries that were significant enough that he was unable to remove himself from the surf line and drowned as a result.”

In an interview about his influence, and place in surfing, Matt Warshaw, surf historian, told me, “He had the talent to be a world-title contender but wasn’t interested. He had zero talent for big surf, at first, but that part of the sport really intrigued him, so he just pegged himself up year after year till he was really good at it… He paddled out at Mavs the first time that morning Jay Moriarity got his famous wipeout. On the cover of the magazines, you see Jay floating up there like Jesus hammered to the cross, and maybe the 10th time you look at the shot you notice a blond guy sitting on his board down at the bottom of the page. That’s Chris. The story was he paddled out, saw Jay’s wave, turned around and paddled to shore and drove back to Santa Barbara. But the great part is, the next swell, he drove back up to Mavs and did it.”

A service for Brown will be held at ten am, Feb 16, Calvary Chapel, 1 N. Calle Cesar Chavez, Santa Babs.

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We are officially officially at the beginning of a VAL vision of surfing broadcast through the bullhorn of the World Surf League. Yes, Erik Logan, new President of Content, Media and WSL Studios is in the building.

Listen: “Can a Vulnerable Adult Learner actually show us all the way?”

A grand vision fresh, uncluttered by the detritus that clogs our own?

One of the greatest parts of surf culture is our slang and one of the greatest bits of surf slang is “valley” or “val.” As in, “Valley go home…” or “Beat it, Val.” It fell out of regular use a while back, being replaced with the more universal “kook,” and I have missed it.

Derek Rielly, though, last night in a fever’d inspiration, brought it right back, this time as an acronym VAL or “vulnerable adult learner.”

Genius.

And timely.

For we are officially officially at the beginning of a VAL vision of surfing broadcast through the bullhorn of the World Surf League.

Yes, Erik Logan, new President of Content, Media and WSL Studios is in the building.

David Lee Scales and I talked much about what his arrival may do, how surfing, or at least the general public perception of surfing will change, if that change will be good or bad. David Lee believes that it will be impossible for an adult learner, vulnerable or not, to properly speak our language, as it were. I disagreed. Erik Logan is not an African-American woman yet by all accounts presided over a very successful Oprah Winfrey Network.

Is being a surfer so different?

Maybe Mr. President’s vision will be grand, fresh, uncluttered by the detritus that clogs our own. Maybe Mr. President’s vision will be as troublesome as his Instagram account. I’ll have a chat with him very soon but am betting on the former.

No, not betting on Former, though I do hope the brand is doing well.

David Lee Scales and I also discuss the slow death of Surfer, Egg McMuffin sandwiches and you. It is probably our best show yet.

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Photos: Hole dug for “safe, convenient, accessible, welcoming” Melbourne wavepool!

The rise of the Sea Machines continues… 

Do you remember the promise made, four years ago, by the investment banker and self-described”hard-core surfer” Andrew Ross, that within a decade Australia would have ten Wavegardens?

And that he, or at least his company, formerly Wave Park Group now URBNSURF, would be at the helm of every single pool?

That bullish promise inched a little closer to fruition today when the company released photos of the Wavegarden it’s building at Melbourne’s Tullamarine airport; a wave the company promises to be “safe, convenient and accessible” and created in a “welcoming environment.”

Are you listening Vulnerable Adult Learners (aka Vals)?

The presser:

Major earthworks, civil construction and services installation are now largely complete, and the heart of our 2-hectare surfing lagoon, our next-generation wave generator, has been installed.

We’re now on the final countdown to filling the world’s first full-scale Wavegarden Cove, and for first waves to be breaking around Easter 2019.

Once first waves have been produced, over Winter we’ll be fine-tuning our wave generator, developing a range of new waves, trialling custom surf hardware, and testing and commissioning our lagoon, ahead of URBNSURF Melbourne’s public opening in Spring 2019.

Read more about it, and give ’em your details if you want to surf it, here. 

Andrew Ross has a 10-year-plan to fill the vast continent with man-made waves. Here's the hole for number one.
Andrew Ross has a 10-year-plan to fill Australia with man-made waves. Here’s the hole for number one

The wave generator. Foil free!
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Did you watch? Did you witness the rebirth of Jack Robinson? All that promise, all that potential, back if only for one day. What about the actual birth of Brodi Sale? There fresh out of the womb, still covered in vernix caseosa. Coco Ho said he was in the lineup waiting for a “glory hole.” Yeah. He honestly just came out of the “glory hole.” | Photo: Photo by Heff/WSL

Pipeline Pro: Jack Robinson wins over all-comers at “The Proving Ground!”

A fantastic final day!

Gimme Pipeline. Gimme third reef, second reef, Backdoor, doggy door. Gimme broken legs and broken dreams. Gimme barrels so big you could drive a bus through ’em. Gimme cliche just gimme Pipeline and oooooeee if the just wrapped Pipeline Pro didn’t entertain.

Did you watch? Did you witness the rebirth of Jack Robinson? All that promise, all that potential, back if only for one day. What about the actual birth of Brodi Sale? There fresh out of the womb, still covered in vernix caseosa. Coco Ho said he was in the lineup waiting for a “glory hole.” Yeah. He honestly just came out of the “glory hole.”

What about Peru’s Miggy Tudela? There in Hawaii where his ancient ancestors first brought surfing, via wonderful boats, 4000 years ago.

Balaram Stack? Hinduism’s GOAT. Vaughn Blakey in the booth? Please, World Surf League, make him a permanent fixture. Do what it takes for he, and he alone, can fix it.

Jack Robinson.

Did you watch Jack Robinson? Can you tell me, please, why he is not on the World Surf League Championship Tour, taking the mantle that John John Florence doesn’t seem to want?

Chris Cote, who is in the booth, said, “Nice foamy exit there…” and can we talk about surfing and sexual metaphors for one moment? Does any sport have more sexual metaphors so baked in that they can be delivered with a straight face?

“He’s pumping.”

“Going backdoor.”

“Nice foamy exit.”

Etc.

Golf has “hole in one” which doesn’t make sense as a sexual metaphor. Baseball has first base, second base, third base and home run.

Those are solid.

Did you watch Barron Mamiya? He won a Yeti cooler and rode the wave of the contest in semifinal number 2 which Chris Cote could not stop talking about.

What do you feel about ending sentences with a preposition? Do you care? At all?

All is not a preposition.

Jack Robinson.

“The drone pilot has just gone next level on that thing.”

Tom Carroll, in the booth, just uttered that sexual metaphor with a straight face. Or I assume a straight face. He’s sober, no?

Nick?

Wait. Is it Tom Carroll in the booth?

Did you watch Balaram Stack pick his board for the final in the vaunted but not vaulted Volcom Pipeline House board room? Oh you missed it. It was the sort of behind the scenes business, replete with “fucks” and “yeahs” that are usually only found on the dark web.

Have you been on the dark web?

Oh shit. It’s not Tom Carroll. It’s some other Australian.

I almost just lost my index finger fingernail by trying to pry an old cube of ice out of an old ice-cube tray in the very back of the freezer in order to make another vodka…. lemonade.

It’s Derek Rielly’s fault. He’s making me write this.

Sal Masekela. Hell. I didn’t realize he was here too in the booth. Wearing an ironic Hawaiiana shower curtain. Ugh. When the future mocks the “extreme sport” era with its chummy awful embarrassing bullshit Sal Masekela will narrate and the whole thing will begin with, “Once upon a time my best friend Kelly Slater texted me…”

Did you watch the final? Reef Hazelwood which is spelled “Heazlewood,” Balaram Stack, Jack Robinson, Barron Mamiya. A stellar lineup by any measure. By any World Surf League measure.

Dave Wassel just said, “I want to chair the mom up the beach.”

I’m serious. Which sport has more sexual metaphors just baked in?

Surfing isn’t a sport, FYI.

Also, sentences ending prepositions. Can you give me some direction here? Yes or no?

Sal is now deeply weighing in on Kelly’s weekend plans. Schooling all of his 235 co-hosts in the booth feat. Chris Cote, Dave Wassel, Kaipo Guerrero, Chris Cote, Tom Carroll, Vaughn Blakey, Big Daddy Trevor, Balarmom etc. on what Kelly is going to do this weekend, how he’s going to feel, what he’s going to eat, etc.

When the future mocks the “extreme sport” era it may simply be a documentary featuring Sal Masekela waiting by his phones for texts from Kelly Slater. Hollywood? Are you there? We’d crush this.

Did you watch Jack Robinson win?

He just did.

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