"Surfing only has its 'heroin cool' factor if you keep pushing yourself. Otherwise it’s as domesticated as the gym."

To all the sad sacks of BeachGrit: if you’re saying surfing isn’t core anymore, that’s ‘cause you’re not core anymore.

Surf scribe JP Currie wrote a piece of “quit lit” a few years ago that annoyed me so much I remember it three years later.

After abandoning his family to go surfing for the weekend, he got skunked, concluding that it would have been more fun to get pissed with his mates.

Some of my favourite lines included: “Better to burn all weekend like a flare than fizzle like a damp sparkler in a crumbling, onshore rivermouth” and “Not worth putting on the sodding wetsuit.”

Plus: “Can’t remember any turns. Whole weekend gone.”

That’s got to hurt.

But, here’s the thing, JP: surf trips aren’t about doing turns. They’re about getting pissed with your mates.

Here’s some friendly advice from an Australian with no experience of Scottish winters, living inland or maintaining surf buds into middle age: find someone who is even more stoked on surfing than you are to trip with (and go surf some slabs, before you’re too old to try).

Before you call me out for being a hypocrite, I also struggle with shit weather. And I can take your story of having to go to bed in your van at seven (“Nowt else to do this far from home, at this time of year” – my god the bitterness) and trump it.

Over Easter, I had to go to bed in my tent at 5:30pm because of a storm (there was nothing else to do but sit in the car or watch my awning get railed by the wind). Although I will admit, I got fun waves the next morning.

Yes, this whole piece is a low-key brag that for once I got some waves

What I’m trying to say is you need to get good waves.

I also struggle with motivation as my best mate has stopped caring about surfing. But I’ve kept the stoke by surfing with different people (found one dude with a mad Jetski/Toyota Camry set up) and by doing more solo road trips.

I’m still a giant kook, but it’s way more fun, and the people are way friendlier because the element of danger (and wildlife) means there’s a sense that you’re all in it together.

Back to you: there are heaps of slabs in Scotland and, unless I am very much mistaken, when Mason Ho was there surfing them you made some feeble excuse about being in a “COVID afflicted pedagogy” (whatever that means) as to why you weren’t getting amongst it.

I’m not sure sure what “pedagogy” means, but for now I’ll take it as: “I am scared of waves over three feet.”

If Torren Martyn can do it on a mid-length, surely you can do it on a step up?

Or if big waves aren’t your dram, that right hander Mason Ho surfed. I’ve seen steeper takeoffs at Malibu.

You could literally surf this on a foamie.

Oh and: pics or it didn’t happen.

Yours insincerely,

Jimbob

PS:  If your rebuttal has anything to do with the risks of violent personal injury, I refuse to accept it. I’ve surfed heaps of slabs (admittedly always on small days) and never got hurt. Nearly broke my neck though surfing my local beachie as I aggressively claimed a low-tide closeout from a friendly backpacker and caught my outside rail.

PPS: From the Longtom Trainspotting Department (choose Surfing, not Life!), surfing only has its “heroin cool” factor if you keep pushing yourself. Otherwise it’s just as domesticated as the gym.

If you keep surfing the same beachbreak with the same fuckwits and the same board (and I admit I am coming at this from a very Sydney perspective; your local might not even be a beach), you’re bound to be tempted to give up surfing.

For me it’s those rare adrenalin sessions that make me remember why I surf. And the good thing about surfing is, if you don’t die doing it, it won’t kill you! It might even make you live longer (albeit deaf and with pterygiums). And unless you’re surfing Jaws, or you’re old and have a heart attack or something, that’s pretty unlikely, I think?

Anyway, I’m sure you don’t care what I think, but thought I’d lay you the challenge, as seeing footage of you going over the falls on some kind of Scottish Scalpel would give me an entertaining five seconds on my next lunchbreak phone scroll.

“The top sole mirrors the moon’s surface while the bottom represents turtle scales.”

Not a dry eye in the house, as they say, after the embargo lifted on the press release for Kelly Slater’s latest biz venture, what the champ describes as a “sustainable and performance driven” footwear brand. 

Called Klly, and unfairly lambasted by Chas Smith earlier today, Slater has “discovered a niche in the in the footwear industry” with a sandal that “can stand up to the rigors of daily wear and outdoor adventures and at the same time, helps to reduce the environmental impact of the fashion industry.”

Further, 

“The first item to hit the market is the sandal, influenced by Slater’s renowned surfing career. Inspired by the relationship between the moon and the ocean, the sandal is made using recycled material, uses BLOOM technology (derived from algae), and provides a high level of cushioning, durability, responsiveness and water resistance.

“For the design of the sandal, Kelly was particularly moved by the mysterious and special relationship between the moon and sea turtle. Turtles have 13 large scales that represent the 13 lunar cycles in each year and 28 smaller scales that represent the days in each cycle. As a tribute to these coexisting forces, Kelly designed the top of the sandal to mirror the moon’s surface while the bottom sole represents the turtle’s scales. Additional styles and sizing are set to release later this year.”

Here’s the link for the website although it ain’t open for biz yet.

Sign up, see if y’hear anything.

“I’m not religious, but I believe in a greater energy – something bigger. “

The ol’ inbox has been warm as hell today after Hayden Cox, the world’s hottest surfboard shaper, a crown he stole from Darren Handley almost a decade ago, and not to be confused with world’s hottest gender-fluid shaper, that title still remains with soccer mom-alike Matt Biolos, revealed his elaborate funeral plans. 

Cox, who is a sunny faced forty-one, described his farewell to a reporter for the Australian Financial Review’s quarterly lift-out magazine The Fin. 

“I’d opt for cremation over being buried. From ashes comes rebirth and new life. You exit one vessel and enter the next. I’d like to think that we live many lives and connect with our soulmates over and over again. I’m not religious, but I believe in a greater energy – something bigger. The kind of energy that rewards you if you put in the work, if you practise karma. It’s an energy that humbles you.

“On the day of my service there’d be a “paddle-out” in the morning at Whale Beach. The service would be somewhere outside, with clean air and a nice view. For the casket I’d be dressed in a Tom Ford suit. Tucked in my pockets would be photos and letters from family, and pictures drawn by my kids. I’d throw a wetsuit in for good measure, and a fin key.”

Cox hoped Rob Machado might read the eulogy and the Nick Cave album Let Love In would play discreetly in the background, the title track featuring the eerie verse, 

Well, I’ve been bound and gagged and I’ve been terrorized
And I’ve been castrated and I’ve been lobotomized
But never has my tormentor come in such a cunning disguise
I let love in, I let love in
I let love in, I let love in

After the biz side of things, a nineties playlist would dominate the afterparty and the wake would be a “gritty and fun” warehouse party headlined by Rufus du  Sol. 

Read here if you can jump the paywall.