"I was looking right at it. That ain't Flipper, my man."

Yesterday, the three-time world surfing champion and ultra-purist Joel Tudor issued a warning to surfers via his Instagram account alongside video of what appears to be fat-as-hell Great White breaching in the lineup.

Written in classic tongue-in-cheek Tudor style but not kidding, either.

“Don’t surf Cardiff. It’s infested with ten-foot White sharks that are attracted to soft tops, stand-up paddlers and tourist swimmers. Stay safe and find a lake or go take a hike. This was today at 8:12 am.”

The post opened a floodgate of Great White chatter.

Former tour surfer Shea Lopez wrote, “When these pups grow up it’s gonna be a different story in SoCal waters. They were all over Lowers the past three days.”

“Result of almost thirty years of no local net fishing inshore,” Tudor replied. “Those dudes used to cull the count quite a bit and helped keep the balance. Since they have been gone the numbers are crazy.”

“Same in Florida,” wrote Lopez, “Used to be we were protected by the actions of the fisherman understanding the ecosystem and being in charge of doing not only what is best for them but also the community that they live in as it affects everyone from their children to their grandparents. Now we have been put in harm’s way due to the change in regulations and the elimination of what had been working for as any can remember. And working well. What next. We have to make an effort to stop the inevitable.”

The inevitable, of course, being, mmmmm, Australia, surfers and swimmers dying every other month in hits by Great Whites, like, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here. Scientists predict 1800 hits by sharks in Australian over the next forty-five years. 

One follower wrote to Tudor, “It is a dolphin! :)” to which he replied,

“I was looking right at it. That ain’t Flipper, my man.”

Good times.

 

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A post shared by Joel Tudor (@joeljitsu)

Another tear-jerker!

Five years ago, aspiring professional surfer Brett Connellan was hit by a Great White at Bombo Beach, a couple hours south of Sydney.

His pal Joel Trist heard the “terrible scream” and wild splashing of the White but padded over anyway.

“I saw the shark thrashing around at that stage but I couldn’t comprehend at that time what was happening and again, just acting on instinct, I thought, well, what else could it be at that moment? I guess the adrenaline kicked in and I paddled as hard as I could towards him,” Trist recalled. “I said ‘Quick, jump on my board’ and I grabbed him and got him on my board.”

On the beach, an off-duty nurse helped Trist use his leash for a tourniquet, saving Connellan’s life.

Now, Connellan, who is twenty-eight, has made a movie called Pyrophytic about his recovery, phyrophetic referring to plants that have adapted to bushfires, can survive ‘em, thrive from ’em.

Like Connellan has post-shark attack, wandering the ridges, as they say, and coming back a prophet.

The film, which releases next year, follows his ride from coma to you-aint-gonna-walk-again-kiddo to throwing himself over ledges and polishing off enormous tubes.

Trailer here.

It’s a treasure.

Weep for the brave surfer girls of Bangladesh.

Bangladesh is the sorta place women’s rights advocate Malala Yousafzai would love to turn on its head and shake by the ankles till all the loose change falls outta its pockets.

Human Rights Watch quoted one Bangladeshi woman as saying, “I sleep in my own deathbed.”

Wives doused with nitric acid, necklace and earrings melting into skin. Murders over dowery disputes. Husbands striking wives over the head with bricks because they don’t get cold water from the refrigerator fast enough during iftar.

A bleak place to be a gal.

But then there are the Surf Girls of Cox’s Bazar.

InSync Media and director Elizabeth D. Costa have created a documentary that shows how surfing has given three girls from Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh’s main surfing hub, a chance at escaping the brutal black male patriarchy.

Per the presser,

Shobe, Ayesha and Suma break away from the drudgery of their lives by joining a surf club in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh. The girls fight family pressure and social judgement, for a few hours on the waves. They gain confidence as their natural skill and prowess gains attention and praise. Soon they are poised to make history as Bangladesh’s first women surfers. The odds are stacked against them but the girls refuse to give up. Balancing the freedom of the waves with the restrictive realities of their circumstances, we experience the thrill and struggle of coming-of-age in a developing country.

It takes a stone cold heart not to be moved, maybe even a little choked up, by the two-minute trailer.

We hear 14-year-old Shobe say, “I don’t dwell on the past. I think about the future. I choose my path. And now I am free.”

(Not the Orange County I-just-dropped-the-kids-off-at-school-and-now- I-can-drink-my-chai-latte-in -peace-free but Bangladeshi free.)

She continues,

“My dream is to go to different countries and participate in surfing competitions and be famous. If my dad sees me on TV when I’m famous then he will come back.”

We hear from Suma, The Provider, who’s been responsible for her families income since she was seven. When she sells eggs on the beach, she stops to watch the surfers.

Her reaction?

“I have no other dream left.”

Ayesha is deemed The Survivor. Her father is abusive and believes all girls who surf are sluts.

Her dream is to be a lifeguard on the beach.

She’s quoted with a sullen face,

“Why is every day such a chore. My mind just escapes to the sea. I mean, surfing is just mixed in my blood.”