Therefore, it doesn’t come as a tremendous surprise that a kid in his kayak was able to film himself being stalked by a twelve-foot Great White while fishing for snapper a mile off Black Head Beach, just north of Forster in NSW.
Matthew Smith was on his little kayak, couple of fishing rods out, when he was visited by the White.
“I just looked next to me and the shark was just gliding past, looking straight at me,” the kid told 9News.
Meanwhile, Matt’s pal, Nick O’Brien, watched it all via his drone.
A demonstration of human vulnerability and a what-if scenario that will find its way, I think, into the kid’s night thoughts.
Climate change, bad luck, held responsible for Australia’s shark attack fatality crisis: “One centimeter to the left, if you get bitten on the leg, and you can die in seconds or minutes at least.”
Australia has had seven fatal shark attacks this year, the most since 1934, spreading an eerie chill across the proud and once-happy land. There were zero fatalities last year and only one or two annually for a long, long stretch before that.
In a recent interview with CNN, Culum Brown, a professor at Macquarie University’s Department of Biological Sciences in Sydney, said, “In Australia, (this year is) a bit of a blip. And in fact the long-term average is one — one fatality per year. So seven is a long way above that, there’s no doubt.”
But what is causing such a statistical anomaly?
According to The Most Trusted Name in News™, climate change and bad luck should, likely, be held responsible.
Drastic changes in water temperature have altered typical fish migration patterns which, have in turn, altered where the Tigers, Bulls and Great Whites, the three species responsible for most deaths, do their feeding and general malingering.
Bull sharks enjoy warm water and are spending more time in the south. Great Whites prefer cooler water and are pulled closer to shore where pockets of chill can be found. Tigers used to enjoy the wild north but have developed a taste for city livin’ and are now common around Sydney.
Robert Harcourt, a researcher of shark ecology and director of Macquarie’s marine predator research group, said, “I would foresee that there’s going to be greater movement, an increase in geographic range, in a lot of these species. That’s because the dynamics of climate change mean their suitable habitat in terms of water temperature and prey distribution is changing as well. And these animals are large, far-ranging apex predators. They will potentially come more in contact with people, and at the same time, human use of the ocean is increasing all the time.”
Climate change is certainly tough enough but coupled with bad luck? Well, a nasty combination that is basically impossible to shirk.
“We managed to save several people over the last couple of years, just by the fortune of having somebody qualified on site to deal with the trauma immediately, and that makes a massive difference. It also depends where the victim is bitten.” Brown said.
“One centimeter to the left, if you get bitten on the leg, and you can die in seconds or minutes at least,” Harcourt interjected. “You know, one centimeter to the right, you get a terrible scar and a lot of pain but if you don’t go into shock you’ve got a good chance of survival.”
Climate change and bad luck.
Welcome to the rest of your life.
But this is BeachGrit where lemons are turned into lemonade, daily, so… welcome to the rest of your life!
Start the presses: iconic surf filmmaker launches newspaper-style surf mag as bulwark against the great WSL/VAL cultural replacement: “The surf industry is in an embarrassing state; it’s the fatal structure of capitalism!”
A magazine called Acetone "dedicated to keeping alive alternatives to the internet and computers."
Did you weep when Surfer magazine shuttered after sixty years?
Yeah, me neither, for it was a grape long withered on the vine, a repository for drink cooler and cruiser skateboard advertisements and “brave” outrage suited to teenage girls on TikTok.
But print mags disappearing, one by one, well, that might break your heart a little if you grew up on ’em.
Now, Andrew Kidman, creator of game-changing surf film Litmus in 1996, its 2019 sequel Beyond Litmus and the surfboard design documentary On the Edge of a Dream where an impossible to ride board is filmed ruining the live of myriad surfers, has made a newspaper magazine that will act, I believe, as a cultural bulwark to the great WSL/VAL replacement.
He works from the angle that he has to produce work that offsets the WSL’s “utter bastardisation” of his beloved sport.
Kidman, along with surfer Sam Rhodes, who is a student of writing at Southern Cross University in Lismore, launched Acetone six or so months ago, with issue two landing over the past two weeks.
The pair edit, write, design the whole thing, with San Francisco artist Barry McGee providing pockets of illustrations throughout the compendium of sprawling interviews, photos and drawings.
Issue two features a cover photo of Tom Curren in white face, a rare piece of writing by Dave Parmenter, Wade Goodall on cartooning, George Greenough and the most detailed account you’ll ever read of two waves ridden fifty years ago, drawings by Kidman, all sorts of wild gear that appeals to a niche within a niche.
Sam Rhodes, who is twenty-nine, stopped by Bondi three days ago to deliver a copy of issue two, and which BeachGrit has a quarter-page ad contained within.
He’s a juvenescent part-blond who cut himself loose from following pro surfing when Andy Irons died in 2010, although he has started following WSL CEO Erik Logan on Instagram, for laughs.
“The other day he put a story up during that crap contest on the Goldie or Cabba, wherever, and he had three screens open at once. On one screen was the basketball, another one the NFL or some other American sport and on the other was surfing.
And he wrote, ‘Such an exciting day to be a sports fan.’”
It makes Sam want to regurgitate his barbecue chicken.
“It implies that surfing is just another thing,” says Sam, “and I don’t want to get too earnest, surfing is this supernatural thing elevated above all else, but it…isn’t… in the same realm as those sports. It goes back to that old cliché when Nat Young said, “When they asked us what is surfing, I wish I said that it’s a spiritual activity, and not just a sport, cause that’s what put us on the wrong track”. Again, I don’t want to subscribe to the melodramatic spiritual stuff but surfing does feel a more sacred than football or basketball.”
I ask Sam about the magazine being a tiny niche within a niche, but, conversely, an important bulwark against intruding kook culture.
“Well, the surf industry is in a pretty embarrassing state,” he says. “It’s a classic example of the fatal flaw of capitalism, something becomes of interest, people jump on it, don’t really know anything about it, and the reason why it’s interesting, a small, unique culture full of freaks, becomes this big monetised thing, and then it no longer exists.”
Sam and Kidman ain’t gonna make any money off of this venture.
There’s 104 pages of editorial, including the cover, and eight pages of ads.
Every cent that comes in from online sales, twelve bucks plus shipping, goes into a bank account to pay for the printing of issue three. If you don’t wanna pay, go into a surf shop that has ‘em and if you’re quick, ‘cause they only print two thousand worldwide, you’ll get a copy for free.
The next issue, which’ll be out in six months, maybe, Sam has to wrap up his writing degree, will be built around a story Kidman describes as “crazy” although he won’t tell anyone what it is until the magazine gets a little closer.
“Ank (Kidman) is heavily committed, and so am I, to keeping alive alternatives to the internet and computers. His feeling was that the surf mags still surviving had disintegrated from their heydays and he’s committed to not doing advertorial-style articles and having total control on what we think is interesting and important.”
Does he imagine great riches from Acetone?
“I hope there’s enough support to keep it open,” he says.
“Time for more surf journalism,” I thought to myself, somewhat exhausted but, as a true professional, got down to reading.
The piece begins with a profile of Sloane, a “buoyant, chatty, stay-at-home mom from Fairfield County, Connecticut” who is shepherding her three daughters through school with dreams, like all stay-at-home mom’s named Sloane, of having them placed in Ivy League colleges/universities.
Harvard, Yale, etc.
Fairfield County is called the “Gold Coast” as it sends more children to the Ivy League than any other place.
The daughters need grades, advanced placement classes, social service activities and, of course as the title suggests, niche sports.
I wondered which east coast surf club the girls belonged to as I skimmed slightly ahead. Wondered if they were hitting one-star QSes or focusing solely on the pro junior events.
Then I was stopped dead in my tracks. One daughter fenced. The other played squash. I read again. Fencing and squash then raced ahead realizing the whole piece was about fencing, squash, lacrosse, rowing, water polo etc. with surfing nowhere to be seen. Nowhere to be even sniffed.
I continued reading, anyhow, and realized that too many rich parents put too many kids with too many coaches etc. into these niche sports and now it’s all a big disaster.
Per The Atlantic:
The stampede of the affluent into grim-faced, highly competitive sports has been a tragicomedy of perverse incentives and social evolution in unequal times: a Darwinian parable of the mayhem that can ensue following the discovery of even a minor advantage. Like a peacock rendered nearly flightless by gaudy tail feathers, the overserved athlete is the product of a process that has become maladaptive, and is now harming the very blue-chip demographic it was supposed to help.
Is there an opportunity to bilk rich parents with dreams of Ivy League placement due the entirely recherché activity called surfing?
An ancient Peruvian pastime with roots stretching to Polynesia?
Turning Connecticut’s Gold Coast into Queensland’s and getting wealthy in the process?