Australia’s Great White crisis: Ten-year-old boy snatched from fishing boat by Great White; dad jumps into water and saves son: “The shark’s leapt clean out of the water and it’s grabbed the little boy and pulled him straight in!”

"All the boys said [the shark] was big, I imagine it was very big."

More proof, as if proof was necessary, that Australia’s booming Great White population is becoming a little, how do you wanna say it, feisty?

Earlier today, a man and his ten-year-old kid were fishing off the little fishing port Stanley on Tasmania’s north-west coast when the boy was snatched from the boat by what witnesses say was a Great White.

The dad jumped in, spooked the shark, rescued his son.

A local abalone diver, Ben Allen, was at the boat ramp when the boat arrived.

“All of sudden, the shark’s leapt clean out of the water and it’s grabbed the little boy and pulled him straight in,” Allen told ABC Hobart.

“But as he’s pulled him in, it’s obvious the shark’s let go. The father, with his natural instinct I suppose, has leapt in straight after his son and managed to grab him… All the boys said [the shark] was big, I imagine it was very big. It is renowned for this time of year that they do go in that area. The boys are saying [it was a] Great White.”

Allen told the ABC there has been plenty of action with Great Whites recently, but added, “It’s their area, you’re in their domain, it’s just mother nature, it’s one of those things.

Kid was a little banged up, cuts etc, maybe lost his desire to go fishing for a while.

“Congratulations to dad. Top fella, it just a very very scary thing,” said Allen. “It is obviously a freak accident and I really do feel for the family — it could have been a lot lot worse … buy a lottery ticket, I think.”

Six days ago, a fifteen-year-old surfer was killed by a Great White at Wooli on mainland Australia’s north-east coast; a week before that, a spear fisherman was killed by a shark at Fraser Island, in Queensland, and three weeks before…thata surfer was killed by a Great White at Kingscliff, just north of Byron Bay. 

A pattern emerges?

As Longtom posited four days ago. 

“Is there a tipping point where something gets done about it? Or do we accept a world of increasing White sharks, more surfers getting whacked, more bleed outs, more epic battles between surfers and sharks who didn’t read the modern-day script that it was all just a case of mistaken identity and once they realised the boo boo they’d just swim off red faced.”


A grifter’s guide to surfing Lake Michigan: “Grenades of power wobble my surfboard; I feel like Bodhi paddling out one last time!”

A blaze of triumph in Chicago… 

I quickly wax my board, feeling a combination of self-loathing and grudging acceptance.

I tie my boardshorts, throw on a cotton shirt (it’s not cause Dane wears them, it’s cause I prefer stepping on the bottom of my shirt mid popup) and do my best to look like I belong.

Strange how I now feel more self-conscious “surfing” in middle America than I did paddling out at spots in Northern California I had no business being at.

Michiganders gawk, chuckling at the small man walking through a Lake Michigan parking lot with a surfboard tucked under his arm.

I am acutely aware of the caricature I am.

“Surf’s up, man.”

Not sure if he’s making fun of me. Probably.

I stare at the lake.

Last time I was here it was a jumble of frozen blocks of ice. Now, I might consider it an actual beach, as long as I ignore the reddish brown water.

Surf is pumping. A jumbled mess of white caps, four foot at five seconds. I ponder to myself if it’s really worth the hepatitis.

We aren’t far from Chicago.

I throw my leash on, hyper aware of the judgmental, mid-western eyes.

The paddle out isn’t bad.

It’s probably because I can walk out the lineup, or the fact that the waves are gutless. I bob in the lineup, trying to ascertain if the waves breaking fifty yards outside of me are rideable.

My thoughts are quickly interrupted by frantic whistles.

I look back.

On shore, a pre-pubescent lifeguard frantically signals for me to come in.

His friend sits atop an ATV – an apparent necessity to cover the fifty yards of beach.

“I just can’t let you go out here. We just can’t. But, if you walk, like, one hundred yards north, I can’t tell you what to do.”

He glances at me, unsure if I understand his hint.

As I trudge north, I hear him say, “Seriously, be careful out there man.”

I feel like Bodhi paddling out one last time.

I repeat my paddle out, gleeful when a single wave breaks in front of me and I’m forced to duckdive.

I’m joined by a middle-aged, balding man wearing a nineties-era O’Neill electric blue and yellow rash guard. I’m pretty sure he’s not wearing to appear ironic or retro.

He flashes me a pair of vertical shakas, the thumbs pointed to the sky, a smile plastered on his face with a look that says, “Can you believe this?”

I like my new friend. He’s riding a five-o Beater-like a boogie board. I respect it.

And even though he will inevitably be staring up at me when I stroke into the only set of the day, a waist-high burger, I can’t fault him.

There’s a whole lot less kooks here than Southern California right now.

I’m greeted by childish screams every time I lumber to my feet. There’s a family splashing in the waves on the inside and I’m relatively sure I’m the first person they’ve ever seen stand up on a surfboard.

Though my rides consist of a pop-up to a not so graceful kick out, that’s all the waves offer, I feel as though I’m ripping.

These people have no idea what good surfing looks like (a stark reminder Elo – the WSL doesn’t, and won’t, garner watches in Michigan).

Might as well enjoy the one instance when I am the best surfer in the water.

An hour or so later, I leave the water feeling more disappointed than satiated.

I wonder if this is what Lemoore feels like? A long drive back through rural America, no coastline in sight, no feeling of dried salt on my skin.

Even so, as soon as I’m home I check the NOAA wind reports for next week. Maybe next time I’ll find a salty local to scream at me in the lineup.

Or when I ask the boy at the surf shop counter for a bar of wax, he won’t look at me as if I’m not speaking English.

Or, who knows, it could be five foot at four seconds.

Watch: Boxing great “Iron” Mike Tyson set to fight a shark on cable television “in the name of research,” aggressively punches surfboard to prove fitness!

"Someone is going to get bit."

Let’s be very frank and honest here. Who is your favorite boxer of all-time? Muhammad Ali is, of course, the natural number one choice but “Iron” Mike Tyson has to be a close-ish second followed by Ivan Drago in third.


I think undeniable and now, Iron Mike is ready to “square off” against a shark “in the name of research.”

According to the press release, “Iron Mike Tyson, the baddest man on the planet, is back for the ultimate showdown. Tyson vs. Jaws.”

The “name of research” is yet to be revealed. Also, it is unclear how they will fight though Tyson declares, “Someone is going to get bit.”

In the accompanying video clip, Mike Tyson can be seen angrily destroying an unglassed surfboard.

Do boxers have beef with surfers, in general?

I hope not as I like boxing, very much, though am not adept in the Sweet Science. Still, I find boxing graceful especially when compared with Ultimate Fighting which generally sees two men rolling around on the ground, grasping for each other’s tendons.


Which professional surfer would make the best boxer?

Filipe Toledo?

The boy who punched that açai bowl?


Great News: Surf apparel industry on path for “explosive growth” over next decade, set to blow past 1.5 billion dollars mark!

Thank you Billabong!

With much of these United States of America being put under lock and key, once again, in order to combat the robust spread of a novel Coronavirus, you might be feeling bleak and sad about the future of a once great economy.

How are restaurants and bars supposed to survive without being able to sell food and/or drinks?

Salons without trimming hair?

Well, at least we have the surf apparel industry.

You are certainly aware that surf branded soft goods, like t-shirts and hooded sweatshirts, became not popular some decades ago spinning the surf apparel industry into a great apocalypse.

Many fired.

Much wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Yet it appears that all that was needed to pull The Stone, The Mountain and Wave, The Search etc. out of its nose dive was a real great apocalypse.

According to market specialists Grand View Research, the global surfing apparel and accessories market, valued at USD 1.04 billion in 2019 is set to grow at an annual compounded rate of 5.3% over the next seven years and reach an overall valuation of USD 1.56 billion by 2027.


The reason for this stratospheric spike may surprise you.

“In October 2016, Trinity Board Sport announced the launch of a surfboard based on parabolic rail system technology. The board offers 20%-30% more volume than a conventional surfboard, thus offering high degree of balancing and significant performance advantages.”


“In July 2019, Billabong, an Australia-based company announced the launch of a graphene-enhanced surfing apparel named Furnace Graphene. This product is intelligently designed where graphene wrapped yarns trap and retain heat more efficiently, thereby offering warmth to the wearer.”

Have you ridden one of these magic parabolic rail surfboards?

I can attest to the power of Billabong’s graphene-enhanced surfing apparel.

Very warm.

But what will you do with this glowing report? Start a surf brand? Send out the resume to existing surf brands?

Much to ponder.

Adorable maniac and toy. | Photo: @jackbatesphotography

Heavyweights: Watch as a tiger shark wrestles, eats hammerhead in three-feet of water at Juno Beach, Florida! “There was a guy swimming with his dogs who had no clue this was happening!”

"Witnessing this tiger's power and beauty chow down blew my mind…"

Pretty little Juno Beach, Palm Beach County, Florida, is a sleepy little joint of three thousand souls more famous for its loggerhead turtles, its pier and a drowsy golden brown climate than undersea battles ‘tween leviathans.

Here, as snatched by Jack Bates Photography, we see a tiger giving hell to a lifeless hammerhead thirty yards off Juno Beach.

“Sorry to see the death of this hammerhead but witnessing this tigers power and beauty chow down blew my mind,” writes Jackie. “Interesting fact: 30 yards down the beach there was a guy swimming with his dogs who had no clue this was happening.”

Tried to call Jackie to check if it was real or not; that cut between above water and below is a little sudden, but time diff maybe making connecting difficult.

Tigers eating hammerheads ain’t a new thing. Here’s a little something from Nat Geo.

As for Jackie, kid shreds.

And has an eye for imposing, goddess-like beauty.

Junoesque, y’might say.