shark attack
Some primitive sensory trip-wire was set off deep within my reptilian brain stem and I became aware of a sudden approaching wave of movement which had an impression of size and volume. Black dread flooded me and my blood turned to thick tar. A pressure wave hit me from behind, then a vortex like a whirlpool in front which tipped my board over and sucked me into the ocean. I felt a thud hit my board and the presence of a huge shape in the water. Blood drained from my brain, my body went ice cold, stiff and lifeless.

Miracle: Surf trunks save man from Great White attack!

"A pressure wave hit me from behind, then a vortex like a whirlpool in front which tipped my board over and sucked me into the ocean. I felt a thud hit my board and the presence of a huge shape in the water."

The world divides between labour and capital and capital wins, eventually but always. Rarely does a rising tide float all boats but the surf writer finds himself in the position of having to eschew the collective and fight for the individual.

The fellow surf writer with whom he would share common cause is his mortal rival in a viciously shrinking market. He (rarely she) has to be labour and capital. A major philosophical stumbling block rarely acknowledged until now.

A few, maybe more, months ago I sent Dell a thousand words or so which he agreed to publish. Two ways the surf writer prices a piece of work. One, according to the going rate and two, according to what the market will bear. In this case the market could bear nothing, so I pivoted and went for a pair of trunks, or boardshorts in the southern hemi, as remuneration.

There wasn’t a size to fit me but Dell graciously allowed that I could have his, which he described as “lightly worn”. They arrived in due course and after ensuring there were no suspicious stains consequent to Dell’s high-flying Bondi lifestyle I tried them on.

They were Need Essentials, with whom I have no association, and they seemed quite nice.

I’m a stranger to technical trunks but these were stretchy and felt deluxe against the twig and conkers. At 5’10” and 75 kilos, ripped like a classic middleweight from a combination of spartan tastes, surfing, rigorous training and hunter-gathering I’m a true size 32. The Needs were a bit big and hung low. That could be design or maybe Dell, who struggles with his weight, might have already stretched them with his more expansive mid-section.

I tried them out and went surfing, and this is what happened.

Twas late afternoon at Lennox Point, my home break, the greatest Pointbreak in the world, just after the summer solistice. The Point was pumping in a rare out of season south-east swell. Solid lines.

The crowd was thinning as the sun sank low towards the hills and the long summer afternoon threatened to turn to twilight. I paddled out and way out and way deep, where I had seen a big set break. I wanted one bomb before dark and I was prepared to wait for it. I had the NeedEssentials on and I could discern no phenomenological difference in my interior subjective state or my external reality compared to other boardshorts I had worn.

That is to say my position was completely neutral towards the product if I was asked at the time what I thought. I remember thinking that, if someone asked me what I thought I would be neutral.

At that moment, I became aware of movement to the south, seaward of the cliff line which marks the end of Lennox Point. It was a feeding frenzy, with terns bunched up and diving into a boiling mass of fish which were churning the surface into white foam. I could hear their metallic cries getting louder, they were coming this way and quick. I didn’t move.

Within the minute I could see they were small tuna, bonito. My heart quickened with excitement at seeing a feeding frenzy and anxiety at its proximity. I put my feet up and lay on the board, one arm paddling so I was roughly facing the approaching feeding frenzy and any sets.

A pressure wave hit me from behind, then a vortex like a whirlpool in front which tipped my board over and sucked me into the ocean. I felt a thud hit my board and the presence of a huge shape in the water. Blood drained from my brain, my body went ice cold, stiff and lifeless.

Within seconds the feeding frenzy went ballistic, it turned into an acre of chopping, leaping tuna with baitfish scattering like shards of broken glass in the last rays of the setting sun. I was in the middle of this, a long way out, no obvious escape route, so I slowly one armed deeper into the cliff line, thinking the bait ball was heading north.

Some primitive sensory trip-wire was set off deep within my reptilian brain stem and I became aware of a sudden approaching wave of movement which had an impression of size and volume. Black dread flooded me and my blood turned to thick tar.

A pressure wave hit me from behind, then a vortex like a whirlpool in front which tipped my board over and sucked me into the ocean. I felt a thud hit my board and the presence of a huge shape in the water. Blood drained from my brain, my body went ice cold, stiff and lifeless.

Then a raging jolt of electrical adrenalin surged in me, relieving my temporary paralysis and I climbed back on the board. I can’t remember any thoughts; there was nothing, a void and then there was something. Not a sound passed my lips, not even a silent scream. Vibrating at some high cosmic frequency I paddled over to a set wave paddled into it and stood, going up and down on the wave until I went past a paddling surfer. I made the sign of a fin with my hand in the air and went in.

On the headland I saw my brother and best friend. I drank a beer with them and smoked a joint as the sky darkened to a shade of bruised purple.

We went back to my place, built a fire and drank a case of beer under the southern cross. Chain-smoked joints until we had a fine intoxication. No need to make a fuss. Nothing reportable. A swing and a miss is no news around here. Attacks make news. Drive-bys, enquiries, bumpings are fodder for passing the time at the butchers. Two days later, someone got knocked at Broken Head. Fifteen-foot White. Not a soul got out of the water.

It’s weird how the names are adding up. Sam Edwardes, Lee Jonson (Grimace), Cooper Allen, Sam Morgan, Jade Fitzpatrick, Seneca Rus, Matt Lee, Craig Ison, Tadashi Nakahara ….there are others.

It’s weird how the names are adding up. Sam Edwardes, Lee Jonson (Grimace), Cooper Allen, Sam Morgan, Jade Fitzpatrick, Seneca Rus, Matt Lee, Craig Ison, Tadashi Nakahara ….there are others.

Pals, friendly faces in the line-up, fellow bullshitters in the carpark. But you know, bee stings falling coconuts and all that crap.

Sometime after midnight we got hungry. By the side of the house I grabbed a fat, young rooster from the low bough of a cottonwood tree, put him under my arm and to soothe him put him my face next to his.

“Time to go for you mate I’m afraid.”

Spinning him around by the feet to disorient him I put his head on the block and with one swift strike with the machete chopped his head clean off.

By the time I’d bled him out, boiled and plucked him, prepared him in a marinade of lemon juice, thyme, oregano, seeded mustard and olive oil it was close to three am. I pulled him out of the oven as the sky lightened and the cock crowed.

By sunrise we were eating like Canaanite kings of the old Testament.

I had had the Need Essentials boardies on for well over twelve hours and despite the eye-ball sweating drunkeness, chicken blood, juices and spilt beer, and maybe a little bit of caca my testicles remained comfortable and without rash or other irritation.

I have to give them six and half stars out of five. A rare win for the worker against the forces of capital.

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Mystery: World Surf League sends very cryptic gift bag to super fan!

What does it all mean?

Have you ever won anything, like a raffle or free box of Girl Scout cookies or an all-expenses paid three-day cruise after you first went to an informational meeting about the sensibility of “owning” a timeshared apartment in Branson, Missouri?

I haven’t and haven’t really been jealous of people who do win until last evening.

For it was then that I received a message on Instagram that read:

Mate, I received a freebie gift pack from the Woozle as apparently I “watch a lot of live surfing on their app”. Contains a poster of an empty wave, curiously signed by Conner Coffin. A WSL t-shirt with every 2019 stop on the back, some cheap stickers, an invite to the Margaret River Pro which is free to attend anyway, and a dope Hydroflask. I bought one recently, sans WSL branding, for 50 clams.

Oh how my insides burned burned with a covetous fire but I also began to wonder. What is the meaning of this freebie gift pack? Certainly it’s a message.

Like, why an empty wave signed by Connor Coffin? What does this mean?

And why Margaret River? Why not Bells (the only contest with a price for admission)?

But back to Connor Coffin, what must have he been thinking when he put pen to poster on an empty wave?

My mind automatically goes to dark places but can you give me some good possibility about what it all means?

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Heart-warming: World Surf League Champion Gabriel Medina finds Carnival love with superstar Anitta!

It's one for the ages!

Today is Fat Tuesday, Mardi Gras, Carnival etc. The time of year Brazilians go all in for. The time of year they let all their clothes down and dance, dance, dance like everyone is watching. Of course, we all have a little Brazilian in us seeing as our champion Gabriel Medina is from the Land of Order and Progress and what is he doing?

Apparently finding love in the arms, and dog’s tongue, of Brazilian superstar Anitta.

Now, maybe you are unaware of Anitta but that only shows your cultural biases. She is clearly famous, possessing more than 35 million followers on Instagram, and… well let’s just turn to Wikipedia for the people, and their socialist encyclopedia, are never wrong.

Larissa de Macedo Machado (born 30 March 1993), known professionally as Anitta, is a Brazilian singer, songwriter, actress, dancer and businesswoman. She is managed internationally by John Shahidi of Shots Studios.

In 2013, Anitta was the singer who most remained at the top of iTunes Brazil and was elected by the same as the Artist of the Year She was also elected by the Associação Paulista de Críticos de Arte (APCA) as the revelation of the year in music in 2013. She is a five-time winner as the Best Brazilian Act on the MTV Europe Music Awards, and was the first Brazilian artist to win the Best Latin American Act award.

In 2017, she was chosen by Billboard as the 15th most influential artist in the world in social networks, getting ahead of artists like Lady Gaga, Shakira and Rihanna.

Etc.

And of course the woman who beats Lady Gaga requires a World Surf League Champion on her arm. Julian Wilson just had a baby, and is not a World Champion. Filipe Toledo, also not a World Champion yet, is happily married. Mick Fanning, while a World Champion and single, is under much scrutiny for his unfortunate rolling out of Stab in the Dark and World Champion 11x over Kelly Slater has had a rumored girlfriend for two decades.

Leaving Gabriel Medina.

Oh they look like they’re having fun here…

here…

and here…

And what if you were lucky enough to be his gal? Would you let your dog kiss his full lips or burn with jealousy instead?

Much to think on.

But what? Are you not completely sold on Anitta? That is mostly because you follow male professional surfing but here. Let me sweeten the deal.

And here…

And here…

And here…

Uh oh. He looks possessive dear Gabby. Run run run!

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Keala Kennelly
Kauai's Keala Kennelly, torch bearer, door-buster etc, steps off a moving bus. | Photo: WSL

Opinion: “When did man-hating in big-wave surfing become a thing?”

Men are simple animals. Be kind to them.

Well enough, we’ve heard enough jabber from the menfolk to last three lifetimes. Batten down the batches, biatches, and brace yourselves for the only woman with the gall, experience and poetic license to fuck up every archetype you’ve ever engendered or that was forced upon you.

a) Women are different from men. We can produce progeny and you men cannot. Basic fact. That sorta puts us in a powerplay position for the duration of humanity so we shouldn’t need to play upon that fact, make you feel badly or left out. We most certainly should never abuse that power to manipulative ends if we are respectful human beings.

b) Because we have these special and ultimate abilities contained within our pelvises and minds we should have no need whatsoever to compare ourselves to you men. We do not need to be as fast or as strong or as anything as you because you lot are incapable of multi-tasking and that says it all.

c) Women’s surfing has been a non-event since forever. I could provide 400 examples of women surfing in recent history and no incidence of male-female conflict. Margo Oberg, Lynn Boyer, Brenda Scott-Rogers, Kim Mearig, Pam Burridge, Wendy Botha, Freida Zamba, Layne Beachley, Sarah Gerhardt, Keala K, Maya Gabeira, Paige Alms etc. Most of them had/have a reference as to their capacities who may have been a lesser surfer than them who was male. Did anyone see any one of these women man-hating? Yelling, screaming? Dare I use the word hysteria? Nope.

d) When did man-hating in BW surfing become a thing? And did that hate-thing simply impose itself upon the physical fact that women hold the monopoly upon the continuation of the human race and simply forgot this momentarily? Sincerely, I’m at a loss.

e) The next time I ask one of those bros who charge massive crimeney around the planet if I’m in or I’m out, I’ll listen like I always have. I have nothing to prove. I am their liability because they care. They will sacrifice themselves for me if I’m in danger and I distract them from the job at hand when I fuck up, so best I don’t or be absent.

f) Beers will be on ice when they get in. Men have simple needs.

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Epidemic: “Hipster-like fashion trend of riding without a leg rope” a growing menace!

Be afraid. Literally.

Most of us surf because at some point, or another, we thought it looked very cool and you know what? We were right. Sun-kissed hair, tan skin, surfboard under arm, devil-may-care gait. It looked cool then and it looks cool now but, according to authorities in Byron Bay and environs, the “hipster-like fashion trend of riding without a leg rope” is a growing menace threatening VALs, EIs and the sufficiently competent alike.

What’s the likely outcome of this threat? Well, death of course and let’s read more about the gruesomeness together in the Port Macquire News. Let’s really cringe in fear.

A new beach fashion is making waves in Port Macquarie as surfers ditch their leg ropes to walk the board.

Local beaches are seeing an increase in surfers riding the waves without leg ropes, according to local observers.

Port Macquarie Surf School owner Wayne Hudson said the hipster-like fashion trend of riding without a leg rope was attracting more experienced riders but surfers needed to maintain their common sense.

“It’s a new fashion at Byron Bay,” he said.

Apart from preventing injury to other beach goers or themselves with a stray board, surfers can also use a leg-roped board to determine where a missing surfer is.

An attached surfboard can begin ‘tombstoning’ if its rider is knocked unconscious deeper in the water, instantly telling others that someone is in trouble.

Port Macquarie-Hastings lifeguard supervisor James Turnham said not wearing a leg rope because it was fashionable is an unnecessary risk to all involved.

Fucking hipsters.

But also, when was the last time you really, really tombstoned?

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