Very difficult to escape. | Photo: Steve Sherman/@tsherms

Steve Sherman’s post-Quiksilver Pro Photo of the Day: Stephanie Gilmore “hazes” new tour threat Caroline Marks!

Surfing's great new rivalry!

Don’t let the smile fool you, as they say. The seven-time champion and “greatest surfer in the world”, Stephanie Gilmore, didn’t rise to those dizzy heights without weaving webs and employing muscle when necessary.

Here, we see Stephanie, who is thirty-one, squeezing the Gold Coast’s WSL winner, Caroline Marks, seventeen, like an avid pythoness.

“This was at a party Quiksilver had for their team riders and the whole team, Mikey Wright, Zeke Lau, were there getting on it,” says Sherm. “And Steph came up and bum-rushed Caroline, semi-hugged, semi-tackled, and then tried to force her to guzzler her beer.”

All in jest, of course.

It’s here we must point out that Stephanie’s long-time sponsor, Sanitarium Health and Well-being Company, is owned by a strict Protestant group called The Seventh Day Adventists, whose central belief is that the Second Coming is just around the corner.

So get ready, start prepping.

Anyway, later in the night Stephanie and Caroline split the Quik gig for Italo Ferreira’s victory party at Komune in Coolangatta, where the pair danced the night away, together.

Is this a new version of the Kelly-AI rivalry?

Or better?


Redemption: Surf Lakes coming back on line, aiming for “full-sized” waves!

It's time to apocalypse-ize the world!

Doesn’t it feel a lifetime ago that Surf Lakes unveiled its mad Mad Max plunger to the world? Oh I fell instantly in love. A rusted metal plunger, a mechanical hiss, a puff of smoke. It is the only surf tank that understands this is the end of mankind. The only one to perceive the apocalypse.

Whoosh.

Bam.

Whoosh.

Bam.

The only problem, if it can be considered a problem, is that all that whooshing and bamming made wonderful waves for preschool children and preschool-sized wo/men. The “reveal” video was ridiculed and Surf Lakes was instantly pulled offline for “repairs.”

Well, SurferToday writes:

“With external investigations and associated testing to the prototype now completed and the redesign efforts also finished, the re-build of the machine is now underway,” notes Mal Borgeaud, CEO of Surf Lakes.

“Due to numerous external factors potentially affecting scheduling, i.e., weather, we are not in a position to communicate an exact date for when the machine will be online again.”

According to the Australian wave pool company, the works are well on track for completion of repairs and phase two testing before June 30, 2019.

June 30, 2019? That’s just right around the corner. The report also says these adjustments will produce “full-sized waves” and that there have been over 300 inquiries of people/companies wanting a Surf Lake of their very own.

I wonder where these 300 inquiries have come from?

Where are there many preschool-sized wo/men? A quick Google search reveals Timor-Leste, Laos and Yemen top the list of “countries with shortest men” and Guatemala and the Philippines have the shortest women.

Yemen? My dream come true! My favorite country with my favorite surf tank technology!

Oh Surf Lakes, forget your ambitious plans for “full-sized waves.” Give me the license for Yemen and let’s apocalypse-ize the world!


Answered: Why Mick Fanning retired in his prime!

He's knockin' on heaven's door!

“He has the voice of an angel” is a cliché batted around far too often. Only three actual male singers in modern human history have actually had a “voice of an angel.” Sam Cooke, Morrissey and Michael Jackson. Michael Jackson just had his angel card pulled which leaves just two. Sam Cooke’s is also in real jeopardy if we’re all being frank.

And so the possible reveal of a replacement second/third has left social media atwitter, if you’ll forgive the pun.

Enter Michael Eugene Fanning crooning Bob Dylan classic Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door. (watch on BeachGrit’s fabulous Instagram account!)

It was, of course, Axel Rose of Guns n’ Roses who made the song truly famous but Mick eclipses them both with a singular delivery, an élan that whispers greatness.

Oh how we need a star male singer. Michael Buble bubbles for old people. Adam Levine is an utter embarrassment. Those Chainsmokers will soon develop throat cancer a al Sammy Davis Jr. if they’re not careful.

A giant dark hole.

The saddest time in star male singing history until the Quiksilver Pro rolled into Duranbah and…

…Wham*.

The cat is officially out of the bag.

Mick Fanning climbing the charts.

Mick Fanning writing poetry with his tongue.

I know people think Mick and I have an adversarial relationship and they may be right. Mick might hate me but I love him. It’s why I half dedicated a book to “My Michael Eugene Fanning.” (Buy here!)

Who else drinks beer from the bottom of a shoe and puts on the best live performance in professional surfing history, shaming Tom Curren, Peter King, Kelly Slater and all those who have tried and failed?

The voice of an angel.

He’s got it and we can only guess that his time in the recording studio made surfing funny heats an absolute impossibility.

In my heart of hearts I hope not true, though. Surfing needs this version of Mick Fanning now more than ever and I mean that in utmost sincerety.

*George Michael probably also has the “voice of an angel” if we’re all honest.


Watch: JOB knocked unconscious at Pipe; life saved by floatation wetsuit!

Nine staples to head, and a very well documented brush with mortality…

Two days ago, at eight-twenty in the morning, a man who has mastered Pipeline to such an extent he now rides plastic surfboards and giant rafts with his bulging eyes half closed, was knocked unconscious on a five-foot wave and only survived because of his flotation wetsuit.

“I was surfing four-to-six-foot pretty perfect Pipe and Backdoor and a good left came and as I was dropping down the face, warbles started coming up and I was, like, I’m not going to pull into this one,” says Jamie, who has previously broken both his legs at Pipe, as well as being knocked unconscious twelve years ago.

“I remember swimming in the whitewater, dazed out. I was almost underwater for two waves. I don’t remember much. I honestly had a hard time assessing that I hit the reef with my head because when you surf with all this confidence you think, this can’t happen to me. I kept questioning it. I don’t hit the reef. I floated up because I was wearing a Buell float suit. The suit saved my life. I was out for a good while. I choked on a lot of seawater. ”

A fan of his blog sent him a rewind of the Surfline camera for the day and what happened soon became obvious.

“When I fell, a photographer swam under the water in front of me. I think the back of my head hit his housing and then I knocked out. When we looked at the cut on my head it looks like the corner of the housing hit it. It’s a triangle almost, not an impact cut. I’m trying to find out who it was. If he’s out there risking his life, and I’m risking my life, you need people to react and help. I hit him and I almost died. There’s no way in the world that guy didn’t feel me hit him.”

At the hospital, Jamie’s head was closed with nine staples, his fountain of hair made even redder by the blood.

“I felt like I had a little bit of water in my lungs because it hurt to breathe,” he says.

Jamie’s philosophical about the crash.

“It’s the reality of living at a wave like this,” he says. “The crazy thing is, I don’t want to hit my head at Pipe, that’s the way you die. Yeah, you  can prevent that by wearing a helmet. Koa Smith manned up and is doing it. And what else can we do to prevent things like this happening? Someone laughed at me with my float suit on and said I looked like a ninja turtle and I said, it’ll save my ass one day! Sure enough, Nate Florence called me after he heard what had happened and said, ‘I’m going to get one right away.’

“The thing for me,” says Jamie, “is it wasn’t a lack of reading the wave. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. When professionals wipeout, it might look like we’re not in control, but we’re in control most of the time. And that wave? A five-footer almost killed me?”


Changing of the guard: Steph Gilmore officially declared “World’s Greatest Surfer!”

Kelly Slater and Laird Hamilton vanquished!

I was very busy sailing over the past four days, hunting surf off California’s Channel Islands, running up scraggly hills, throwing rocks at prickly pears, editing forthcoming book and sipping mezcal from small pewter cups with four wonderful friends. It was a good time, great even, but I missed the last two days of stunning Quiksilver Pro competition. Well, not missed, I suppose because of Longtom. He writes better than I see and I’m overjoyed not to let my eyes get in the way of the truth and importance of professional surfing.

Italo beat Kolohe, as you know, and Caroline Marks upset Steph Gilmore but Steph should not be sad for she has just been officially declared “World’s Greatest Surfer.”

“Who declares who is the ‘World’s Greatest Surfer’ and how do they decide?” I hear you ask, with an incredulous edge to your voice, and I’ll tell you. It is decided by the editorial boards of Vanity Fair, Vogue, Esquire, Elle, ESPN and/or Guns & Ammo magazines. It is the surfer that grabs a “World’s Greatest Surfer” headline.

Now, Kelly Slater and Laird Hamilton have been passing the award back and forth for thirty years running. John John almost snagged the baubles three-years-ago but didn’t have a “face for media” as they say. And now we have Steph.

Elle magazine has a gorgeous new long form piece on the new “World’s Greatest Surfer” titled “Stephanie Gilmore is the World’s Greatest Surfer. Pay her accordingly.”

I don’t know how much Steph makes but I would bet all my own money that it’s more than Italo Ferreira.

And do you think Kelly Slater and Laird Hamilton are sad or do you think they will throw her a welcome to the club party?

If I’m honest, I would not want Kelly Slater and Laird Hamilton to throw me any sort of party. Imagine what the two would serve. Purps with added Laird Hamilton SuperFood Creamer festooned with ice from the ice bath we all just got out of.

Yuck.