Peterson (right) with friend.
Peterson (right) with friend.

Watch: Western Australia bans surfer, vegan activist, from entirety of state’s pubs, restaurants, clubs for accusing Perth diners of participating in “fish holocaust!”

Meat is murder etc.

Vegan activist Tash Peterson was informed, yesterday, that she would no longer be allowed to set foot in any Western Australian establishment that sells alcohol including, but not limited to, beer, wine and vodka. Disobedience to be met with a trespassing charge and A$10,000 fine.

As you well know, from the recent World Surf League broadcast from Margaret River, the surf-rich state also has vineyards featuring very quaint bistros.

The 27-year-old Perth local received the stiff penalty for accusing diners at a picturesque Bathers Beach seafood restaurant of participating in a fish holocaust.

“Right now, in this moment, there are billions of fish, dolphins, whales and other marine animals being ripped from the ocean, in massive trawler nets and they are suffocating to death,” she said. “This is the largest holocaust in history.”

Peterson was furious when she woke up to police knocking at her door to inform her of the ban, claiming that she was not drunk during her seafood restaurant speech and that she rarely drinks alcohol. She now vows to leave the state, and its waves and its vineyards, as revenge, taking to Instagram and writing, “Guess what WA, I’m getting the f**k out of here anyway, so I can continue to do my protesting in other states in places that sell alcohol because this ban only applies in Western Australia.”

The regular-foot has the makings of a nice cutback and seems to enjoy chunky rights so may regret her decision.

https://www.instagram.com/p/COpo1LYJaw4/

And of all the hot button topics we press here on BeachGrit, extreme veganism has gone unfingered. Do you agree with Peterson, and Morrissey, that meat is murder? If you were sitting at that Bathers Beach seafood establishment would you have looked down at your plate and pondered your life’s path?

Or are you one of those aggressive top-of-the-foodchain sorts who believe eating flesh is man’s right?

Where does Joe Turpel fall?

More as the story develops.


Australian surfer with helmet-mounted 360-degree camera films the moment he comes face-to-face with ‘member of Great White family’: “My thrashing scared it off!”

“Apparently the idea is to stay calm and slowly swim into shore and fast thrashing movements attracts action from sharks."

A surf-mat rider, trialling an experimental helmet-mounted 360-degree camera, has uploaded footage to Reddit of the moment a shark closed in on his legs at Gunnamatta Beach on Victoria’s Mornington Peninsula. 

The footage is pretty classic. Roger Essig turns around, sees the lil shark, a sevengill, named thus cause it has seven gills instead of the usual five, screams and motors outta there, a natural reaction. 

“Fuck, fuck off! Shark!” he says, adding, resigned to his fate,“Fuck me.”

“I thought about how peaceful it was and how the ocean floor must be so far below me, which made me think of sharks,” Essig told the Daily Mail.

“Apparently the idea is to stay calm and slowly swim into shore and fast thrashing movements attracts action from sharks. I had been motionless when it first came up to me, and my thrashing scared it off, so I haven’t decided if I reacted in the best possible way.” 

His reddit pals let him have it, although he good-naturedly deflected each barb. 

Sevengills ain’t in the same realm as Great Whites, seven attacks in five hundred years and no fatals, although they are part of the same family.

It’s a shark hunted by the Chinese for its excellent liver oil, very good for giving a man the hardest of honeymoon dick.

Regular readers will recall, one year ago, a French surfer thought he was a goner when a sevengill moved in on his feet during a surf at Bells. 

Much shrieking etc, understandable as always. 


A meditation on the singular glories of the ocean in light of recent manmade debaucheries: “A world of dew and within every dewdrop a world of struggle!”

Lashing tides etc.

Mount Fuji is an imposing presence. On the horizon, it is immovable; it can be seen from miles away, and it is a physical and spiritual focal point for Japan, as it was for the people in Hokusai’s world. It is sacred, and is the symbol of the natural world’s permanence and balance. But does this tangibly powerful symbol matter to the toiling fisherman in their fragile little wooden boat, at this moment in time? In this fleeting glimpse Hokusai has given us the ability to see and experience it. We can identify with the psyche of these individuals: and nothing matters in this moment, except focusing to keep the boat steady and to survive.

Everything depends on this.

Their lives and livelihood become momentarily at grave risk, and instinct, determination and largely luck may or may not get them through. Maybe in this moment everything is put into perspective. (art history pun intended)

Human beings seek to answer the big questions of life in many different ways. Probably as surfers, we can relate to the moment that puts one into the middle of the dichotomy between permanence and impermanence. Sometimes, it’s an adrenaline thrill, sometimes it might just remind one that despite planning, and the best possible preparation, human fragility will surrender to the moment.

There are a few pieces of art that immediately and universally illicit a response on an instinctual level. Hokusai’s Great Wave Off Kanagawa, 36 Views of Mount Fuji is a master class on compositional control. And, at the same time it allows a profound and fluid view into the human condition; maybe because it taps into that flight/fright consciousness as much as it is an attractive visual moment?

It is compelling.

For many it has been an endless source of inspiration. It is also a conduit to the discovery of human nature as it creates a window for us to look into the existence of ourselves, and ultimately others in a moment of extreme consequence. The image Hokusai crafted continues to allow one to look with fresh eyes, like looking at nature herself.


Yoel R. (pictured) carrying great shame.
Yoel R. (pictured) carrying great shame.

Provocative photo of Israel’s new tourism minister carrying SUP threatens to undo country’s fragile government: “Stop putting the men to shame in front of their women!”

The region remains on edge.

Controversy erupted, overnight, in Israel as the country’s new coalition government threatened to break apart under the crushing weight of an extra large SUP and its paddle.

Perched on the eastern Mediterranean, the usually quiet, non-polarizing parliamentary democracy has just elected its thirty-sixth government made up of centrist Yesh Atid, liberal Blue and White, conservative Yamina and a smattering of other parties.

The group unseated Israel’s longest serving Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, with Yamina’s Naftali Bennett taking the reins of power.

All was looking fine enough until days ago when a video of the new tourism minister, Yoel Razvozov from Yesh Atid, was released depicting him walking up the beach holding a gargantuan SUP and equally large paddle.

It was captioned, “Something they forgot to tell us about the new government: Yoel Razvozov is the most handsome tourism minister we’ve ever had.”

Clearly, and rightly, incensed by stand-up paddleboarding, Bennett stared Razvozov down at the next cabinet meeting and seethed, “Yoel, stop putting the men to shame in front of their women.”

Razvozov, 40, chastened, replied “It’s just for marketing Israeli Beaches,” according to The Times of Israel.

It goes without saying that no country, big or small, wants an increase in SUPpers and the scourge of awkward they drag in their unpleasant wake. That participating in the SUP life is a great shame for anyone but especially for men who are married or dating.

Pundits are split as to whether SUPgate will be enough to topple the government or if it can withstand the serious blow.

More as the story develops.


Daddy Rick squeezes his boy Fizz.

Surf Ranch Pro, finals day analysis: “Only the very last rides from Toledo and Medina had any sense of drama…We don’t need to see days of mind-numbing safety surfing from the rest of the Top 34!”

Toledo now in the box seat at number three. 

Thank God they got the right two men and women for the Finals, eventually, and plenty of analysis to come I promise so stay tuned for that. 

Allow one quick (existential) digression, por favor re: the Surf Ranch Pro.

Can you legitimately create a sporting event where no drama happens, there is only light and no shade, nothing is allowed to penetrate the veil of sunshine and rainbows, where there is no controversy, no conflict?

Where big is little, soulful is aggressive, huge is subtle, guys about to be relegated to the QS are “legimitate World Title Contenders” or “the Future of the Top 5”? Where “blessed” psychobabble reigns supreme, losers are quietly disappeared without being interviewed and the creator of the venue creates his own rules at his discretion? 

The answer is yes, I suppose, because that’s the universe the WSL has created at Surf Ranch. 

By contrast I drove an hour north yesterday to watch an NRL game at a Gold Coast stadium, with two eleven-year-old boys. Frothing groms who elected not to watch a single wave of Surf Ranch. The crowd was full of Rugby League fans who got what they paid for, sans being preached to, assaulted with Greenwashing, and hammered with ads and uncounted and inexplicable breaks.

The second half was a blow-out. The losing coach faced the media, answered questions. Called the performance of his team “unacceptable” and “horrible”, said it was the “lowest he had ever felt as coach”. This presser was broadcast, without shame, without self-censorship. After being marooned on WSL island the honesty and embrace of reality was as intoxicating as the highest mountain air. 

We described Italo as a step behind the contenders yesterday. He failed to repair his weakness on the left in his bonus run. Falling early and missing the Finals cut line. Kelly, slightly overscored after spidery, thin surfing on a left for a 7.07 made the cut. Owen Wright, critically underscored on a right, was eliminated by one. Owen’s thoughts were not sought on the score. He simply disappeared as if he had never existed. 

Yago Dora made the left his own running a version of the Medina line, which entails fins free on every turn, with acceleration from the grind. A pair of airs thrown down, one just after the mid-way point wave deceleration and one at the end corner.

In one of his many pressers today, a defensive Kelly Slater responding to criticism of the pool as competition venue cited Dora’s performance as justification.

Is that legitimate rebuttal? I say no.

Only the very ending stanza of rides from Toledo and Medina had any sense of drama about them. That led some to suggest the Finals Day  venue should be shifted from Trestles to the Basin. I think there is more merit in that idea, but not a top five. A top three only. Three runs each. Run and done in a couple of hours like a Super Bowl.

We don’t need to see days and days of mind-numbing safety surfing from the rest of the Top 34.

Even in the Finals people safety surfed.

Ethan Ewing, with nothing to lose and everything to gain by finally showing the world how good he could surf came up with a seven on the right and a particularly weak brace of rides on the left scoring a 4 and a 5.67.

Why?

Who is coaching this guy?

You want him back on the QS without firing a shot at CT level? 

Carissa Moore hit her high point in the two bonus runs with a brace of eights. There was more flow and power in the women’s performances compared to 2018 and 19 but a conspicuous lack of progressive risk.

And when I say a lack, I mean zero.

No one took Lakey Peterson’s Finals winning air rev or Caz Marks’ tail-high reverse and attempted to duplicate it.

No one.

Judges showed they were perfectly happy to reward risk-free safety surfing when Sally Fitzgibbons did seventeen identical snaps, surfing purely off the fins and tail rail for a 7.5. Judges brains finally melted down in the heat, after an amazing display of rigour.

Performances were well down, with rare exceptions, but scoring failed to reflect that. 

There was a long period of pure aggravation for surf fans prior to the Finals that felt like deliberate provocation by the WSL.

The machine stopped, there was no indication of when the action would resume, we were verbally and visually assaulted by both talking heads and program filler. By the time they cut to a little “feel good” piece about the chef from Pasquales, Mexico, now head chef at Surf Ranch wobbling his way across a left on a foamy the mood was beginning to resemble the one inside the lift in Dirty Harry 4.

You know the one?

An aggravated Harry Callahan grabs his tormentor by the tie, yanks him close and says, “Listen punk, to me you’re nothing but dog shit and a lot of things can happen to dog shit. It can be scraped up with a shovel, it can dry up and blow away with the wind,  or it can be stepped on and squashed….”

But alas, in our fairy bubble universe Cote and Mel and Turpel and Rosie wouldn’t dry and blow away in the parched wind. No matter how much we wanted them too.

Aggravation continued with the broadcast. Starts of waves missed. Replays not shown. Judging scale was obviously reset for the Finals, especially for the women but why? And how?

And for what purpose?

Despite all the provocations, for a magical fifteen minutes everything clicked. I make that period during the latter part of the mens semis. Kanoa was in first place. Medina needed a combination of scores. His waves to respond were the highlight of the event. A late float to entry in the last tube section of the right was legit high risk, the precise edge work that only Medina can manage. The left was seamless. Super deep bottom turns, a slick air and transition free kerrupt flip at the end. Still down on his high points in 18/19 but enough to make the Finals. 

Defay was strong. She did what she did all event. Brought nothing new to the Finals, but she didn’t have to because Carissa Moore didn’t either. Both elected to keep fins engaged at all times, concentrate on flow and timing and in the end Defay was rewarded for safely surfing a right, nowhere near her best wave for a winning 7.93. 

But Toledo did.

He botched the ending on both opening rides for a pair of sevens. Which left the door open to Medina, who bizarrely fell, overcooking his opening left. Toledo’s second right was the wave of the event. Board slide, tube, alley oop to full rail turn to slide. That was the final sequence.

Perfect execution. His left was overscored.

The 9.28 requirement for Medina was easily obtainable. Another inexplicable choke. 

Toledo now in the box seat at number three. 

Assuming he holds position for Trestles. He surfs twice, at his favourite wave. Sleeping in his own bed, enjoying home cooking. Sticking everything. Comes in fully aroused and warmed up against Medina with his poor record there. Best of three heats. 

I want money on Filipe Toledo. 

Meanwhile, in another universe, a much grittier and gloomier one, the rest of the Australians are clustered down the arse end of the ratings like flies on sheep dags.

Apart from Morgs, of course.