"Their taut grey bodies were pushed closely together, belly to belly, revolving the entire time…"
It all came undone sooner than I imagined. Great White Shark morality, long an inspirational high tower within the animal kingdom, showed its first crack days ago when a vice-ridden fifteen-footer knocked a gentle superintendent out of his canoe, near San Francisco, and proceeded to “smoke it like a cigar.”
I was instantly worried that Great Whites would begin seeking other pleasures of the flesh. Hot toddies and cool jazz. Good Time gals in the bad part of town.
A wave of unchecked depravity.
Well, in a just uncovered story, it appears that the inspirational high tower not only cracked years ago but also crumbled.
Marine biologist Steve Crawford had been waiting to witness Great White sharks making love in public for his whole life when he heard a tale about an old New Zealander fisherman who had seen the act with his very own eyes.
Long considered the “holy grail” of marine biology, Crawford raced to meet 82-year-old Dick Ledgerwood to hear with his very own ears and was not disappointed.
Ledgerwood had witnessed the dance in 1997 when out fishing in Otago harbor. On an early November morning he tooke his ship out and set off from Dunedin, heading east to Port Chalmers for fuel. On the way his first mate Roy hollered, “Oh Dick. There’s something white in the water back there.”
According to Crawford’s retelling, “It was two sharks wedged close together, and they were just revolving round and round, very, very slowly.”
The fishermen had never seen anything like it.
They stopped the boat and gaped at two, four-meter sharks “locked together” in just four meters of water.
Despite the onlookers, the Great Whites just carried on without shame.
“They were … locked together, and just revolving in slow circles,” Ledgerwood continued,.
“Their taut grey bodies were pushed closely together, belly to belly, revolving the entire time. They were clenched on. Rolling and rolling and rolling. We just drifted up, and they didn’t worry. I mean you wouldn’t, would you? laughs. Well, I wouldn’t.”
And it appears as if Dick Ledgerwood is something of an exhibitionist himself.
This whole business is profoundly disturbing and I fear that Great Whites may already be well past listening to Sinatra, martinis, above-the-knee skirts and already be well into 1970s swinger party debauchery or even 1980s unchecked hedonism.
More as the story develops.
Watch: “What if someone on the beach filmed the worst wave you ever surfed and it went viral on social media?”
We all, each of us, have caught a fine wave and blown it so badly as to bring shame on multiple generations of our family. I’m not writing here about when we are learning to surf as children, or vulnerable adults, and don’t really know what a fine wave is nor am I writing about a wipeout where feet are never planted. I am writing about being in position to catch the wave of the day, paddling, taking off, getting stance so egregiously wrong, arms akimbo, bottom in air, heel over rail, etc. and straight blowing it.
Looking around after missing the best section hoping nobody saw.
Haunted for days afterward.
Oh it is the worst thing to suffer privately and David Lee Scales had such a moment days ago. Now, usually other surfers either don’t see or don’t care. We all, none of us, are professionals and so don’t garner collected looks but what if, by chance, someone happened to catch the worst wave you have ever surfed and it went viral on social media?
I’m not writing here about @kookoftheday or any sort of surf-specific viral. I’m writing about viral viral. Like, Joe Rogan plays it on his podcast, Facebook posts it as its homepage, late night comedians laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh.
How would you respond?
Host a media event at your local so that everyone can see how much you rip?
Join in on the fun making?
Much to ponder.
David Lee and I also discuss how crap the World Surf League is. A greatest hit of sorts.
Josh Kerr and Bede Durbidge, television stars. Steve Sherman/@tsherms
Longtom: Aussie taxpayer gazumps WSL with new model of pro surfing!
Some time a little while back in the early days of Covid chaos the posit was made that if, or when, pro surfing fell over one of the potential outcomes was the Aussie taxpayer, pro surfing’s most faithful stakeholder whose deep pockets never run dry when it comes time to rattle the tin, could pick up the pieces and run their own Tour.
That vision has now come to pass with the development and broadcast (on free-to-air TV) of a new concept tagged Rivals.
Take former pros, film them shit-talking each other to generate some pre-”match” heat, add some biographical sauce to the sausage, then document a single two-hour session at their homebreak culled from a forty-five day waiting period with the best three waves chosen by the surfer and judged by the audience.
We’re used to seeing the ageless Kelly Slater as the avatar of the middle-aged surfer but Hog, and others in Rivals provide a more representative sample of the effects of a life in the church of the open sky.
It ain’t pretty. We age terribly.
It offers an elegant circumvention of pro surfing’s thorniest challenges in this accursed 2020. That being Covid travel restrictions and the environmental indulgence of excess travel.
I paid no attention to the flurry of promo emails and caught up with the series by mistake on YouTube, starting with episode three featuring Nathan “Hog” Hedge. We’re used to seeing the ageless Kelly Slater as the avatar of the middle-aged surfer but Hog, and others in Rivals provide a more representative sample of the effects of a life in the church of the open sky.
It ain’t pretty.
We age terribly.
Still, Hog rips and the cameos of the Carroll brothers, muscles rippling in their dotage and heads that would scare a dog out of a butcher’s shop, are inspirational.
It’s worth the watch for that alone.
The Hog segment of Rivals confirmed an impression I hold as a truism: pro surfers get more media attention at the beginning of their CT careers but become far more interesting once they are off Tour. Kelly being one exception; he’s far more interesting now.
Fanning is another, at the other end of the scale. He’s as interesting as he’s ever been but gets far more attention now off the Tour.
Not sure about the states but in Australia Fanning is bigger than Jesus right now.
Sixty Minutes segment on his new bub, front page in glossy magazines, a bona fide celebrity down under.
His omniscience continues in Rivals, where it makes a nice contrast with his former Coolie Kid honchos Joel Parkinson and Dean Morrison. Parko looks like every second fifty-year-old Deus Dad walking the streets of Byron Bay with a salt and pepper beard nursing a kombucha and a mild hangover.
Dingo wears the countenance of the man used to physical labour signed up to cage fight in twent-one days.
The chemistry between the Coolie kids illustrates a weakness of the series. Not everyone can carry an Ep.
Hog pulls it off, as does Josh Kerr.
Jay Bottle Thompson’s segment is much weaker. The high point is Botts trying to negotiate his way through Sunday morning Burleigh with a wave count artificially inflated by some very cunty behaviour. I say high point when I mean low point but it does foreground pro surfing’s elephant in the room.
Which is the very uneasy detente between pro surfing and the vast majority of recreational surfers upon which it depends for it’s fan base and access to venues.
How fucking exciting would it be to see the local concretor after a night on the meth and a bad row with the missus aimed up at Dingo or even Saint Mick?
Rivals, which takes place in amongst the recreational rabble, features the very real potential for true carnage. No disrespect to Bottle but he has the mien of a man who couldn’t punch his way out of a wet paper bag. I’m not condoning it, or even encouraging it but how fucking exciting would it be to see the local concretor after a night on the meth and a bad row with the missus aimed up at Dingo or even Saint Mick?
Thats always been a black irony of the govt funded surfing bureaucratic-industrial state. They foment chaos and violence amongst the very people who’s interests they are supposed to represent.
Would Rivals keep any incident in the final show?
I think, yes.
The excellent narration is written and delivered by Jed Smith, one half of the Ain’t that Swell team. Jed plays it for laughs with a hyper-bogan delivery and realism that is the anti-Turpel in almost every way.
Maybe a delivery that is too Australian for an international audience?
Judging by some of the comments below the line in YouTube, yes.
If the producers of Rivals have missed a trick it’s by keeping the talent confirmed to old pros. How much more entertaining to have an Ep with Noa Deane, Creed or Craig Anderson, rather than old warhorses like Bottle or “Micro” Hall.
That would bridge the pro surfer/freesurfer divide perfectly in a post contest world.
Still, as a glimpse of a post-WSL future or even as alternative to being smothered in the slow moving sludge river of schmaltz that is their commissioned content, Rivals is as thirst quenching as an ice cold VB and as brilliant as the blazing sunshine in an Antipodean sky.
Now, who’ll give me odds on the first pro to get their porthole punched out by a cuckolded reccie.
Florida man shows best of humanity by gently and lovingly cradling shark that viciously attacked him, refusing to let go, for multiple hours!
For it was there on Jensen Beach, very near Port St. Lucie, that a Florida man simply named Jeremy was severely bitten by a confused nurse shark. A poor animal so befuddled, so perplexed that it refused to let go for hours.
What did Jeremy do? Bash the creature on the head with a conch shell until its unnecessarily aggressive brain matter filled the Atlantic?
He lovingly cradled the chronrichthye as if it were his own child, likely knowing that he had entered its environment and deserved the whatever manner of dismemberment befell him, while lifeguards and firemen gathered trying to figure out how to dislodge the sharp, extremely painful teeth.
Jeremy continued smiling and joking as a crowd gathered. After much time, shark still affixed to arm, the lifeguards and firemen gave up and transferred him to a local hospital where the shark was removed and thrown into a medical waste bag.
“You’re a hero!” one man on the beach shouted as he was wheeled away.
A hero indeed, displaying the very best of humanity. Showing what makes us very cool and sharks beautiful but completely un-evolved.
The Florida Man I strive to be.
From the BeachGrit legal department: “What will the WSL’s death rattle look like? Kelly Slater’s retirement? Elo’s return to Oklahoma?”