Nor Cal surfers in fury over Transhumanist
VP candidate and New York Times columnist who says surfing ain’t a
crime: “Stay home kook!…Shelter in place, barney!”
By Derek Rielly
"There are pictures of you on every telephone pole,
soon to be on T-shirts, the local surfers all know your face
now…"
As we’ve written before, surfers, if that’s what you
want to call us, have ridden the COVID train to hitherto never
before seen heights of self-policing, usurping the usual
snitches, informers, rats and so on.
Public exceptions, of
course, are Joel Tudor, and Derek Dunfee, the
big-waver and photographer who, according to Coronado mayor Richard
Bailey, “singlehandedly” brought together all the mayors in San
Diego to talk about and eventually overturn the no-surf ban.
“I just couldn’t see how walking out of my house, getting
into my car, parking near the beach, and paddling into waves could
be dangerous for anyone. Even on the beach — which hasn’t been
crowded since the pandemic hit — most people were wearing masks and
practicing social distancing. In the water, we were always
considerably more than six feet apart from one another.
“A few days ago, a county sheriff’s officer stood outside
his vehicle in the parking area of the beach in Bolinas, waving off
visitors and telling surfers to go home. Like many other surfers, I
avoided him by parking on a side street. I suited up and after
making sure he was looking the other way, sprinted to the water. I
caught my first wave of the day a minute later.
I understand that quarantine rules must apply to everyone or
the plan to flatten the curve doesn’t work. But I doubt that
surfing alone jeopardizes the health of society in any
statistically meaningful way, especially because all the surfers
I’ve seen have been careful to practice social distancing in and
out of the water. The physical, mental and spiritual benefits to
surfing outweigh the tiny chance a surfer might become infected or
infect someone else.”
He does get a little silly when he writes about weeping in the
surf and how “Being in the ocean and riding waves can be ecstatic
and spiritual.”
I get it, I agree, but it looks rough on paper.
Importantly, he’s a Tudor, not a Skindizzle.
The response, very fierce.
#gohomezoltan is trending on IG
“Maybe ur day tripper friends are all jacking eachother off
while looking at ur ny times article but the entire population of
every single small beach town is utterly repulsed,” writes Heather
Lowry.
“You’re the kind of guy that goes to town and buys a chai latte
putting his infectious waste grubby mitts all over the counter
putting our local population at risk. There are pictures of you on
every telephone pole, soon to be on T-shirts, the local surfers all
know your face now, you named not only our town but the local surf
break, which no true surfer ever does, but you told others how to
break the rules, your welcome in Bo is not going to be a warm one.
Kook,” writes Andrew
Owston.
Holly, You & plenty others have threatened me in social
media, & there are screen shots for it all. I’m a federal candidate
and convicted violence against could mean federal prison. And
because I’m a public figure, it may also mean more media at Bolinas
soon.
Two questions in all this, I suppose.
Who’s winning the war of hearts and minds, the Tudors or the
Skinnies?
And transhumanism,
Did you ever think such a fabulous thing might happen in our
lifetimes?
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Revealed: Revered ex-NBA superstar Steve
Nash also “best VAL in the entire world!”
By Chas Smith
"He surfs the thing all the way into the shore I’m
like, ‘it took me like three weeks to do that.’"
And how many things are you properly good at?
Like, not only proud of your ability/talent but other people also
acknowledge and are sometimes amazed by your skill? I’ve got one
but it’s a good one.
Parallel parking.
I can whip any sized vehicle into any sized space with a
casual/cool right arm on passenger seat back, twisting my head over
the right shoulder, sunglasses down bridge of nose, slightly, not
because they interfere but because that studied look goes well in
the parallel parking game.
Vehicle backs in, I crank the wheel straight, pull forward and
there we have it.
No fussing about with extra movements.
No do-overs, ever.
Oh, I wish I was as good at surfing but not everyone can be
Kelly Slater or ex-Phoenix Sun all-star point guard and certain
first ballot Hall of Famer Steve Nash.
The Golden State Warriors’ Hall of Fame coach Steve Kerr, who
happened to be the general magic for three years during Nash’s
sparkling run, went on a podcast, recently, and discussed how the
Canadian also happens to be the best VAL in the entire world and
here, I shall transcribe for you because who has time for anymore
podcast listening?
Steve Nash came out to visit me in San Diego, probably seven
or eight years ago, and I used to surf at that time, and he had
never surfed before. So he, he decided to paddle out, he said ‘well
what do I do?’ and I’m not a very good surfer, but I tried to give
him my advice. We paddle out there, and I said, ‘hey, just you
know, paddle into this, you want to do is you turn the board and
you paddle. And then you kind of stand, you know, you try to stand
up, you pop up real quick and now it’s probably going to take a few
times,’ and he’s like, ‘okay.’ The first wave comes he paddles
twice he pops up he’s surfing. He surfs the thing all the way into
the shore I’m like, ‘it took me like three weeks to do
that.’
Wow.
But also, we have reached a moment, I think, when we must
consider that the World Surf League might never come back. That
financial pressures, an “evolving” pandemic etc. could make
professional surfing for an audience of 20k “unviable.”
Now, we could replace with the World VAL League though might I
suggest the World Parallel Parking League?
Picture with me exotic, crowded Hong Kong, Tokyo, New York,
Sydney, Paris, Copenhagen, Moscow. The world’s best parallel
parkers in the world’s busiest cities. Every turn makes a title.
There would be judging, of course, as well as good, old fashioned
“beat the clock” action.
Speed, power, flow.
Tell me you aren’t excited.
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Listen: “Kelly Slater has done more damage
to the earth than any single non-politician of the last
decade!”
By Derek Rielly
Join Chas Smith and Steve “Longtom” Shearer on
Dirty Water, episode seven…
In today’s episode of Dirty Water, which is episode
seven, and hot on the heels of our capitulation to WSL CEO Erik
Logan who left Chas and I crumpled on the floor like drained
wine-skins, we bring in the razor-sharp analysis
of BeachGrit‘s best writer Steve “Longtom”
Shearer.
Many topics are covered in a rambling sorta conversation
including a recent incident at Lennox Head where Kelly Slater set
the town “aflame” after, allegedly I suppose since I wasn’t there,
fading a local grommet who is the kid of the joint’s great enforcer
and ending with Kelly promising the kid a private surf session in
Hawaii.
There is conspiracy talk.
“Kelly’s a libertarian conspiratorialist,” says Chas, before
Longtom interjects with a little game.
“Bill
Finnegan is going to write a hundred words on Kelly
Slater, what’s going to be in the first sentence,” asks
Longtom.
“Greatest surfer of all time,” says Chas.
“Loves Instagram,” I say.
“What else?” asks Longtom. “Starts with E.”
“Empath?” says Chas
Longtom booms, “Environmentalist! That’s how the
world knows him!”
Chas retorts, “Everything Kelly does has an eco-centric point in
it. But, for reals, Kelly Slater has done more damage to the earth
than any non-politician of the last decade. That man has travelled,
spewing carbon into the atmosphere, the amount of surfboards he’s
chewed through, he’s the most damaging human of the last ten
years.”
(Available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Google Podcast, Stitcher,
TuneIn + Alexa, iHeartRadio, Overcast, Pocket Cast, Castro,
Castbox, Podcast Addict, Podchaser, Deezer and Listen Notes.)
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Alarming: Great White Sharks disappear from
South Africa’s False Bay; Scientists wonder if they’re hiding in
Australian fish and chips!
By Chas Smith
Strange days.
Though did you ever see the film Strange
Days starring a younger Ralph Fiennes, Angela Bassett,
Juliette Lewis, Vince D’Onofrio etc? It wasn’t the best movie ever
made, of course, but a semi-fun dystopian look at the near future.
Similar to Back to the Future II.
Escape from L.A.
Videodrome.
And, my goodness, our apocalyptic future looked so grim but
exciting back then. Everything a grey + neon swirl with mini-CDs as
currency. We are living in it now, of course, and it is neither
grey nor neon just the same colors as always, with the mini-CD
technology vanishing too quickly and… Oh, I don’t know. If I’m
being honest very disappointing.
Sure, there the petrodollar’s collapse is imminent and that will
lead to a global economic crash, a Chinese-crafted disease is
ripping through immuno-compromised populations and the Great White
shark has vacated once-fertile False Bay in South Africa but where
did they go?
Only a few years ago, scientists estimated there were
between 300 and 500 great white sharks in South Africa’s False Bay.
Now, they have completely disappeared.
While local surfers might have relaxed, the absence of the
apex predators is alarming to scientists, and the lucrative
industries that rely on their presence.
“I’ve spent my entire life in the field watching these
animals on a daily basis,” local cage dive operator and wildlife
photographer Chris Fallows says.
“When the waters go quiet, both above and below the surface,
and these predators are not there, it sounds huge alarm
bells.”
Etc.
Etc.
Theory.
Theory until we get to…
“Flake” has long been a staple in Australian diets, but
overfishing of gummy and school shark populations led to protection
of the two species in our waters in the early 1990s.
In order to meet demand, Australia began importing “flake”,
mostly from New Zealand and, more recently, from South
Africa.
Australia’s seafood labelling laws require that any fresh or
frozen fish sold must be labelled with the country of origin, but
once the seafood is cooked, these laws no longer apply.
In many cases, it is impossible to know where or how the
fish you’re eating at your local cafe, restaurant or fish and chips
shop was caught.
“Australians commonly refer to shark meat as ‘flake’, but it
can be sold as ‘pearl fillet’, it can be sold as ‘boneless fillet’
and it can be sold as ‘monkfish’. There’s no legal obligation to
actually call it what it is,” Dr Guida says.
With 70 per cent of the seafood we consume in Australia
coming from overseas, this poses significant challenges to
traceability and accountability, disempowers consumers and impacts
Australia’s reputation as a leader in sustainability.
I suppose that’s a sort of dystopian vision I can really get
behind. Disturbing, certainly. Very grim but also exciting?
Oh, I don’t know.
These are strange days.
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Trump fans and surfer boys!
@jamietierney
Wild scenes in Huntington Beach as surfers,
Trump fans and conspiracy loons turn on beach closure laws: “Newsom
is probably thinking, ‘How many of you fuckers would be dead if I
hadn’t been the first to shut it all down?'”
By Jamie Tierney
Gov Newsom shutters OC beaches; surfers say
nein!
It felt strange to be stuck in traffic again. I
hadn’t seen brake lights in front of me in so long it was
disorienting.
Then I saw and the red hats, the American flags, a huge sign in
the bed of a raised truck, “Trump 2020, no more bullshit.”
All of them going the same place I was, Main Street, Huntington
Beach, USA, USA, USA!
A month ago, or was it, two, or twenty, the mayor of Los
Angeles, Eric Garcetti, closed the beaches.
So I became one of the bad people, escaping the lockdown three,
four, sometimes five times a week by driving through the quiet
streets of Inglewood and onto the 405 south. The journey, which
normally took an an hour or two was suddenly managed in a breezy
thirty minutes.
And the pillowy bosom of good old HB welcomed me with fun
three-to-four-foot surf nearly every time.
Why HB?
Because, until Monday, the stretch from Surfside to Newport was
literally the only stretch of sand anyone could legally touch in
the two hundred miles from Oxnard to Imperial Beach.
All because of a pesky virus that’s killed 240,000 people across
the globe.
When California’s governor Gavin Newsom issued a stay at home
order on March 19 I was honestly scared. Apocalyptic scenes of
sickness and death from Italy, Spain and then New York played out
on television and social media every day.
It was only a matter of time before the same thing started
happening in America’s most populous state, right? Overflowing
hospitals, ventilator shortages, mass graves.
It would all be here soon.
What was I thinking going surfing, especially driving to another
county to go surfing? The selfishness, horror, the shame.
When Trestles was shuttered in early April, all star crew often
headlined by Kolohe Andino, Yadin Nicol and the brothers Colapinto
were seen shredding next to the HB pier alongside Brett Simpson and
Kanoa Igarashi. Springtime HB, never to be confused with world
class waves, was suddenly Surf City once more – the new North
Shore.
After I surfed, I was usually hungry, so would head to the
safest place I could think of to eat, Little Saigon.
Why there? Vietnam shares a border with China, but COVID-19 was
no match for the iron will and organizational might of the
Vietnamese people.
To date: 270 infections, 0 deaths. Charlie crushed the virus
like a bug.
You go north to get to Little Saigon from HB. You pass by the
Huntington Valley Healthcare Center, a nursing home where over a
hundred poor souls are currently battling the virus.
The toll in this one facility accounts for almost half the
infections in all of Huntington Beach, a city of 200,000.
My lunch spot is tucked inside the Mall of Fortune in
Garden
Grove.
I hear the boom, boom, boom baseline of Nancy Sinatra’s
These Boots Were Made for
Walking in my head every time I pull inside
the parking lot. The virus isn’t getting anywhere near this joint.
The cooks are suited up head to toe in PPE, gloves, masks,
hats, the works. A glass wall separates me from the cashier. A
two-gallon jug of hand sanitizer sits at the ready next to the
credit card reader. I self-pay, the cashier places my order on a
table and never comes within fifteen feet of me. I eat in my
car and go home.
It was a nice little program.
I stayed healthy and quietly enjoyed it until I started see
alarming messages on my instagram on Wednesday night. “Newsom to
close all beaches in California tomorrow,” they said.
Thursday I woke up thinking that it was my last day to surf so
of course that’s what I did.
Then the cracks in the wall started showing. The San Diego City
Council had just instituted a sensible policy allowing for surfing
and active recreation on beaches but no sitting allowed. They’d
left their full beach ban behind and weren’t going back.
But HB and Newport?
They’d committed the cardinal sin of embarrassing Newsom by
drawing summer type crowds on over the weekend.
Does it matter that not a single case of COVID-19 infection can
be traced to the ocean or a beach?
No.
Newsom was mad dad and needed to punish his wayward
children.
Starting Friday he decreed, all OC beaches will be closed
indefinitely.
I soon saw a “Defend your rights, storm HB Pier Saturday May 2”
insty story.
Shit, this could get interesting.
A pack of surfers running past police to claim public stretch of
ocean?
Like D-Day in reverse.
HB wasn’t having it.
The City Council voted to block Newsom’s order in an emergency
late-night session Thursday.
Mayor Lyn Semeta said, “Our experience here locally has been
that most people are being responsible and complying with social
distancing, and given that Orange County has among the lowest per
capita COVID-19 death rates in California, the state’s action today
seems to prioritize politics over data.”
OC Sheriff Don Barnes went even further. He flatly refused to
enforce Newsom’s shutdown order.
So that was the stage for today’s rally against the Gov today in
Surf City. A motley crew had assembled on Main Street, Trump
supporters, anti vaxxers, 5G truthers, Q Anon followers and the
rest of us who just want to be free to go the beach.
I wore a mask, looked at the ground and tried not to breathe as
I crossed PCH today amidst a sea of unprotected humanity standing
shoulder to shoulder fighting for their right to party.
I couldn’t see the virus, but I know it was there.
A phalanx of police on horseback and on foot stood guard in
front of the pier. A friendly cop explained the situation to anyone
who asked.
“Yes, the beach is closed, but we’re only asking for voluntary
compliance. No, we’re not going to arrest you if you go on the
beach.”
It was a protest with no speakers and no formal agenda other
than giving Newsom the finger.
I wonder how many of these angry people would want to live in a
state like New York that waited too long to shut down and now has
the highest numbers of COVID infection and death in the world.
Or would they prefer to be in Georgia where the head of state
deemed tattoo and massage parlors to be essential businesses?
Newsom will probably watch this HB happening and think, “How
many of you fuckers would be dead now if I hadn’t been the first to
shut it all down?”
The whole thing started to feel ugly and weird.
I didn’t want to feel like I’m joining forces with this crowd
just because I want to be able to surf. I positioned myself next to
the entrance to Duke’s, thirty-feet upwind from the throng.
Was I safer there? When the virus gets carried in the breeze,
does it only go in one direction?
Someone asked the friendly cop what would happen if the everyone
rushed the beach at the same time.
“Then we’ll have a problem,” he said.
The mood was aimless, restless, twitchy. I started feeling some
Dealey Plaza vibes on Main Street.
John Birch Society types coming out to play for the first time
in many moons.
Is there a little guy with a rifle in the clock tower above
Jack’s?
Who is that shadowy figure on the grassy knoll above the parking
lot?
Are they the virus? Or are we?
I had to get out to there. I walked back to my car. Put on my
wetsuit and slipped past the police cars stationed on the mostly
empty beach without looking back. No one stopped me. The spring sun
was warm and the waves looked sparkly and fun. Only one other guy
was out on the south side of the pier.
Surfing was still allowed.
I padded out and a big OC County lifeguard boat pulled up next
to us.
I thought the blonde guy at the wheel was going to tell us we
had to go in.
“Sorry bros, Newsom’s orders.”
That kind of thing.
But he didn’t.
He smiled, waved us a shaka and sped away.
I got a whiff of that familiar gasoline smell from his boat as
the onshore wind carried it my way.