Age only a number etc.

Dominant geriatric Kelly Slater put on notice as 90-year-old Japanese man snags Guinness record for being oldest male surfer ever!

Rage percolates.

What can be written about Kelly Slater that has not already been? That he enjoys nose walking snowboards? That his girlfriend is Chinese? Old news, all of it, as the world’s greatest surfer has had his life combed over so greatly, with such relish, that every hidden truth is public, every step, over the course of 50+ years, accounted for.

Part of it is due the fact that Slater is not media averse. While he has a famous penchant for blocking those sporting journalists he does not like, he spreads himself wide before others and shares innermost secrets with ease.

Part of it is due the fact that he is 50+ and has been under the burning klieg light for the vast majority of it.

It could be thought that Slater will surf into his 60s, 70s, 80s and do so extremely publicly though a new challenger has reared his head and stolen the GOAT’s thunder.

Namely, Seiichi Sano.

The diminutive Japanese man decided his life needed challenges, around 80 years of age, and so he climbed Mt. Fuji and took up surfing.

Now almost 90, The Guinness Book of World Records has officially recognized him as the “world’s oldest male surfer.”

“I think it would be interesting to try to surf until I’m 100,” he told the Associated Press. “I think I take better care of myself when I have goals like this. Even now, I take better care of myself than I did before.”

Slater is certainly at home seething right now, imagining some way he might steal Sano’s thunder. Dreaming of ways to shade the elderly gentleman.

Remember when Joel Parkinson dared announce his retirement?

In any case, I’d imagine that Slater will, himself, now claim that he is already 100.

He surfs against Jack Robinson and some unknown at the upcoming Rip Curl Pro Bells Beach.

Maybe “event seed #36” is World Surf League Chief of Sport Jessi Miley-Dyer.

Worldwide Look At Me Tour rolling on.

Busted. Photo: Psycho
Busted. Photo: Psycho

Australian surf club passes draconian anti-nudity rule after brazen woman dared shower without clothing!

Saving the youth.

Australia is an undeniably wonderful country floating, there, below the equator. An undeniably wonderful cuisine of meat pies, undeniably wonderful national costume featuring Bintang t-shirts, undeniably wonderful soundtrack set to the soothing melodies of Kylie Minogue.

And, of course, there is the surf. Such variety of wave and water temperature, almost each fronted by a surf lifesaving club wherein members can sit in plastic chairs and eat meat pies either before or after a dip in the ocean. Being undeniably wonderful, one of them just north of Adrian Buchan’s Avoca Beach has very progressively decided to enact a 100% ban on nudity.

No naked in changing rooms.

No naked in the shower.

According to The Guardian, one naughty swimmer, Nada Pantle, dared to change from swimsuit to clothing and got slapped with a threatened “disciplinary action.”

Another, Wendy Farley, got drilled for rinsing off sans attire.

Both received sternly worded letter reading, “The club is a family friendly environment and at that nudity is not acceptable. Should you continue to ignore the rules, you will be subject to disciplinary action, and/or … termination of your membership.”


While Pantle felt “body shamed” by the notice and Farley thought it was sending the wrong message to young women, the chief executive of the club, Jon Harkness, stood firm.

“The purpose is to protect young people,” he said. “They all potentially use those shower facilities.”

Europeans, long used to being au naturel basically everywhere, got wind of the situation, stuck their wieners right where they didn’t belong and criticized the new rules, declaring, “We got mixed saunas. Any public shower (public pool, sports club, gym etc) is an open plan and you definitely see naked people while changing … A naked body is only indecent if you teach it to be indecent.”

Harkness, brave and bold, stood firm.

“Nobody inferred that. We were purely asking (the offending women) to follow the rules to constantly be modest within changeroom facilities.”

It is unknown if Torquay’s surf and lifesaving club will adopt the zero nudity policy ahead of the upcoming Rip Curl Pro Bells Beach but here’s to hoping.

World’s greatest surfer Kelly Slater publicly endorses kookiest snowboarding clip ever!

Gather 'round and laugh at the champ.

Oh my goodness. Rare is the day that I get to stand over the world’s greatest surfer, cover him with shade and boom “YOU KOOK!” downward as if I was a Greek god of old and he but a puny li’l kook mortal. Rare, indeed, but there he is, low plus kooky, and here I am, high-ish, LOLing whilst trying to keep the fig leaf over private in place.

The source of my glorious mirth?

Well, you know my love for snowboarding, how I regularly try to drag it into the conversation, how you regularly and rightly rebuff my exuberance keeping me in my place. So, what am I to do? My love is pure though also juiced by the fact that I married snowboarding royalty Circe Wallace. My fault? No. I was introduced to her by surf filmmaker Joe G. at Julian Wilson’s Scratching the Surface film premier in Costa Mesa, California some thirteen-plus years ago.

Scratching the Surface.

Her fault as she was inexplicably there though the shine on her snowboarding crown has not dulled. (Listen here to a just dropped The Bomb Hole, snowboarding’s version of… a good surfing podcast.)

In any case, and leading back to Slater, he took to Instagram hours ago in order to celebrate a clip featuring a new snowboard that can be nose-walked like longboard.

“Cool clip,” Slater shared.


It is decidedly not cool.

It is, in fact, embarrassing and the 11x champ should know better.

Imagine a surfboard with snowboard bindings on it.

A surfboard with wax on the bottom heated by an iron.

A surfboard taken up a chairlift and into a lineup.


Straight kooky to, like, a maximum degree.

Ain’t the point of innovation actually… innovation? As opposed to pointlessly rolling down a bunny hill on the nose of a snowboard into a tree?

You can now laugh at Kelly Slater too.

A rare pleasure.

Hawaiians grow culturally, environmentally furious as world’s deepest German-made wave opens during water crisis in “birthplace of surfing!”


Talk about rubbing salt into a wound. Days ago, Wai Kai Commercial Development announced that the “world’s largest deep standing wave” being built in Ewa Beach, on the glorious isle of Oahu, was officially filled with water, 1.7 million gallons of fresh, delicious, H2o, and ready to polka. Delighted tourists, who flew from across the world, shrieked with delight as they pushed through gate, towels and soft-topped surfboards in hand, thrilled to wiggle and giggle.

A problem?


The island is currently experiencing a major water crisis thanks to depleted aquifers laced with forever chemicals.

Ernest Lau, manager and chief engineer of the Board of Water Supply, described the opening as “unfortunate” in an interview with CBS News but said there was nothing his team could do as wave pools have not been expressly forbidden.

“The wave pool, that’s a sore spot for our community,” he said. “And we’re learning from that. It is going to use a lot of fresh water to fill the pool. And every five years, they’re going to have to change that water in the pool, so it is a large use of fresh water periodically.” Lau added that developers told him using seawater or recycled wastewater instead “was not an option they really could handle.”

While the developers have vowed amazing World Surf League-esque sustainability initiatives, including plans to become “Sustainable Tourism and Outdoors Kit for Evaluation” certified and possibly have Connor O’Leary come plant little bushes, it has not been enough to smooth the feathers of angry locals.

“They’re opening the largest wave pool on the island of Oahu in a water crisis,” local resident and water rights activist Healani Sonoda-Pale declared. “…They’re 100 feet away from families who don’t have access to clean drinking water. And there you see the dichotomy of the haves and the have-nots of how industry will continue, despite the fact that their neighbors are suffering.”

But at least those have-nots will get to gaze upon a German import. Like a fine sausage, the wave technology comes from Europe’s engineering capital and was inspired by Munich’s famous river wave The Eisbachwelle.

“That’s where the basic idea came from. Long ago when I came to Munich to study, we’d meet daily at the river to surf. And the idea was born in my head that one should develop the technology so it can be built everywhere. Not just in Munich in the river but everywhere in the world, independent of the river, because everybody has so much fun surfing there,” wave founder Rainer Klimaschewski told Reuters.

So, to sum up, all that fresh water being used up is the wound and Germans importing waves to Hawaii is the salt.

Or maybe it’s the other way around.

What do you think?

Australia’s Forrest Gump Blake Johnston reveals shocking physical toll as well as a life-changing enlightenment from world record forty-hour, 707 wave surf, “I’d never experienced the state I was in!”

"As fucked as I felt, it was a highly unusual experience and I’m still processing it.” 

Almost two weeks since ultra-endurance athlete Blake Johnston emerged from the Pacific after surfing for forty hours straight and catching 707 waves at an astonishing rate of one every four minutes, a vein in his forearm is attached to an IV, our hero receiving a replenishing dose of vitamin C and magnesium. 

Been surfing much? I ask the holder of the world record for the longest surf by way of a joke, to which Johnston, missing the epic gag, details his four am start, the surf school and a wild foil run to wrap up the morning. 

Just cause he busted the old longest-surf record and raised $440,000 for practical mental health measures (“I don’t want to just start another ‘conversation’” he says) don’t mean he’s in the bean bag binge watching Love Island like his interlocutor. 

He tells me he’s still sore through the shoulders, a deep pain in his upper back and across the coat hanger but isn’t too worried about it yet. 

“If it’s still there in around in three months when the adrenalin wears off…well…”

Permanent physical damage is a fact of life for the ultra-endurance athlete. 

The night before he paddled out for the world record attempt, Johnston got a text from the man whose record he was gonna smash, South African Josh Elsin, who surfed for thirty hours, eleven minutes, with 455 waves eaten up in 2015.

“He said he felt responsible if anything were to happen to me. He’s a good dude, a legend. He told me goggles are the deal breaker. I told him, you didn’t wear ‘em in the videos and he said he didn’t want to look like a mad kook with his goggles on.”

Elsin told him he didn’t look after himself for three weeks after the feat and, eight years on, he’s still got injuries from it. 

“Think about runners on two-day runs,” says Johnston, “some people mess ‘emselves up running out of alignment for a long time, that bad form that comes when you’re tired. Same with paddling, same shit, for the upper body.”


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A post shared by Blakey Johnston (@blakeyjohnston)

The hardest part of his marathon, says Johnston, who is forty, were the first six hours. The surf was a powerful east groundswell, with rips running hither and yon, and before first light it was calculated he’d duck-dived three hundred and fifty waves. 

“I got washed across the whole of North Cronulla, I’m four hours in and I’m weathered, my eyes are stinging and there were hundreds of these big brown jellyfish in the night. They’re dredging in the Hacking (Port Hacking estuary) and that’s where they live.  It was kinda comical, man. Five foot straight closeouts in the pitch black. It was so much further out than the lights we had. I had mates come out for water support as part of the insurance and safety procedures. Mates coming out for an hour getting washed around, pinballed, rips going from side to side in the channel. And I was still managing to catch twenty-five waves an hour. When the sun came out on the first day I didn’t expect my eyes to be that sore already, all the salt.”


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A post shared by Blakey Johnston (@blakeyjohnston)

Johnston’s pal Graham Matheson, an emergency physician who holds a PHD in skin rejuvenation, told him that hydration of the face, tongue and mouth was everything. 

“I had a 3/2 Rip Curl steamer on a thirty-five degree day, I was catching, then, a wave every three minutes and fourteen seconds. I wasn’t sitting still and there was a lot of fucking sweat under the wetsuit. Obviously, hydration was massive.” 

Apart from the obvious physical horrors, the suffering put Johnston in a place that felt godly.

“I have never experienced the state I was in. It was like I’d lived through it before. As bad as I felt, as shit as my eyes felt, if I breathed through my nose and closed my eyes, I knew that when I opened ‘em a south swell would come because I’d lived it already. I trusted everything about it. As fucked as I felt, it was a highly unusual experience and I’m still processing it.” 


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A post shared by Blakey Johnston (@blakeyjohnston)

Eleven hours in at around midday, Johnston’s pal the award-winning sports photographer Grant “Chucky” Trouville, padded out along with the local rugby league club, the Cronulla Sharks. 

And, in the clear green water, the pair watched as a large turtle swum past. 

“You see fuck-all in Cronulla,” says Johnston, “and Chucky said, oh my god, that’s my fucking old boy, his dad who passed away five years ago. His ashes were put in a dissolving turtle shell and paddled out the back of the Alley. He was a big part of the local surf club and when he died he wanted to be put in the ocean and, then, five years later, his son paddles out at the same spot and the first thing he sees is a turtle. There was so much energy around this world record.” 

When Johnston finally wrapped his marathon session up after almost two days he was whisked away to the hospital where, he says, “I was pretty hysterical. I was emotional. I wanted to say thank you to everyone and I couldn’t. I was yelling, ‘Why the fuck am I not there? I want to shake their hands!” 

An important part of the feat, at least to Johnston, probs not so much to anyone else, was how authentic he made it. He had four Rip Curl jetties and five Chilli surfboards but, to keep it real, wore one suit, rode one board. 

“I wanted to do it properly, be vulnerable in front of everyone. I could have made it easier. I didn’t want to pull my wettie down in the water and go to the toilet so I’d run into the toilet, did that three or four times. I dug deeper than I needed to.”

The four-hundred plus gees he’s raised for the the Chumpy Pullin Foundation (Alex “Chumpy” Pullin was an Australian snowboarder and Olympian who died while spearfishing in 2020, aged thirty-two) is, in Johnston’s words, “being used for action. To get kids off their fucking phones, to challenge ‘emselves with ice baths and whatever, to help become more self-aware. I’m not spiritual but these are the practical tools we all have access to. We need to be able to handle life’s adversities. Let’s see what we can implement in our daily lives, let’s see if the power of gratitude can become part of their routines, help ‘em become emotionally more in control and resilient.” 

Johnston knows about suicide. His daddy Wayne took his own life and when he was a kid riding for Quiksilver one of that company’s most popular employees, Andrew Murphy, died at the hands of the black dog. 

“I think we’re always treading a fine line between feeling good and feeling unworthy of anything. I was an emotional kid. I care a lot about other people and to have that self-awareness helped me a lot through the dark points where I could say to myself, this is unhealthy, this isn’t good. 

“(Depression and suicide), those things are hereditary. My brothers have had their moments, haven’t fell great and worked through it. There’s not one solution to it, and it’s ongoing. It’s a constant wave of emotions we deal with through our whole lives.

“So many message came through from people, really positive ones, like you helped me open up a conversation with my kid, fucking heart warmers every day. My eight year old laid on me and asked, ‘Daddy, what is mental health?’ I was nearly in tears, mate. It’s about your being proud of yourself and feeling worthy to your family and friends around you. 

“Other people sent darker messages, people who were in similar situations to my Dad asking, ‘Can you help me?’ I’m a surf coach not a psychologist. I do what I can but it takes a toll on you, too. I wrote back to every single person. My wife was getting angry at me!”

How many messages? 


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