I have just arrived home, at the ballet studio
in San Diego’s Kearny Mesa, after a 2000 mile journey over 2.75
days. Beginning in Nashville, Tennessee, in the trusty Volkswagen
that brought me to Vanderbilt some two years ago, I retraced steps
to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma then pushed past Albuquerque, New Mexico
to Gallup before ending here. I passed through Arkansas, Texas and
Arizona only stopping for gasoline and sundries.
Along the way, I have reached the definitive scientific
conclusion that California drivers are the worst in the entire
nation. In Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico and
even Arizona (though things start to go very wrong in the Grand
Canyon State), slow drivers will generally stick to the slow
(right) lane, only venturing left to pass. Sometimes, as happens to
all of us, a driver will drift left and become preoccupied though
dart right when run up on. Semi-trucks (or tractor trailers/big
rigs depending on preferred vernacular) are a clear danger, in
these states, deriving clear pleasure from passing each other as
slow as possible and sometimes shooting retread tires at cars
though they are all likely methamphetamine addicted and best to
ignore.
Once in California, however, all hell breaks loose. Drivers will
plant in the leftmost lane driving 20 mph under the speed limit for
no obvious reason and will absolutely not move not matter how close
another car gets to tail. Others, enjoying social media on their
phones, will slow to the slowest speeds before jerking faster. Many
are terrified, gripping the wheel with both hands while also going
slow. Everyone is absolutely, ridiculously selfish. Driving exactly
how they want simply because it is exactly how they want.
It is a hellscape the Golden State’s surfers must regularly
negotiate and while annoying in the moment, becomes absolutely
enraging when comparing it to drivers in disgraced former World
Surf League Erik Logan’s home.
What then to do?
How to teach freeway lessons from San Diego to San
Francisco?
All suggestions welcome.
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San Francisco billionaire locked in epic
battle to keep “unwashed and generally gross” surfers off
beach
California, home to nearly 40 million souls,
has long embraced open beach access to all. It is generally illegal
to block access to those wishing to come build sandcastles or
lovingly splash in the sometimes temperate waters. The state’s
Coastal Commission has laws and whatnot on the books declaring such
but that has not stopped the ultra-wealthy from trying.
Now, usually this business occurs in Malibu where multi-million
dollar homes front the iconic sands and certain of their owners try
to build fences, and such, to keep interlopers out. Up San
Francisco way, though, as case has rolled all the way up to the
United Supreme Court and back down again with no resolution thus
far.
It features the very handsome Indian-American venture capitalist
Vinod Khosla, his 32 million dollar estate and Martins Beach, just
south of Half Moon Bay. The co-founder of Sun Microsystems
purchased the property in 2008 and immediately built a fence
blocking beach access to surfers, likely imagining them unwashed
and generally gross. The Surfrider Foundation immediately sued and
the two parties fought through the legal system to Washington D.C.
where the SCOTUS refused to hear such a squabble and let the lower
ruling stand, which favored Surfrider.
Khosla, unsatisfied, has asked the judge to vacate that decision
but the judge has refused thereby, I think, reopening the whole
business and keeping surfers out until all appeals etc. are
finished.
Canadian surf prodigy Erin
Brookshas closed off a dominant Aussie leg of the
Challenger Series in Sydney with a second-place finish, a
big rankings lead and a declaration she’ll be spearheading
generational on the women’s Championship Tour.
After winning the first CS event of the season and stunning the world with best
barrel ever by a woman, Brooks slaughtered the field
in the GWM Sydney Surf Pro with her signature combination of quick
snaps, solid airs and big Bible camp energy.
Every post-heat interview began with her high-pitched thanks to
the Almighty for letting her wreak mayhem in her heat.
Ronnie Blakey went straight for the jugular in her podium
interview, asking Erin Brooks whether she would compete on the CT
next year if she wins a spot.
She grinned with all 28 perfect teeth and said she would
“definitely take up the opportunity”.
As one viewer put it in the comments framing vision of her
near-540, “The female version of Medina is born.”
Erin Brooks needs only one more decent result out of four
remaining events to lock her place on the 2025 CT.
Barring injury, it’s a given.
When it does happen, we can look forward to the great rivalry
between Brooks and Oceanside’s Caitlin Simmers, one that will come
with a stark contrast between Caity’s awkward yet iconic stonerish
murmurings and Erin’s even more awkward enthusiastic Christian
youth group-themed gushings.
The interviewers had their angles on Erin Brooks locked in from
the word go, knowing exactly what line of questioning would get her
to drop squeaky gems of innocence.
Stace Galbraith put on a masterclass at Snapper, asking Brooks
about her love of the Aussie arcade chain Timezone and, when she
won, prompting her to spill the beans on her dad’s plan to “take me
and my friends out for pizza!!!”
As for her surfing, the highlight in Sydney was Brooks’ near 540
in the semifinals, surely one of the better airs landed by a lady
in competition.
She couldn’t recapture the magic during the final, but she
succeeded in freaking out her opponent by boosting on section after
section at the close of the heat, knowing a single completion could
steal the win in the dying seconds.
And who was that opponent, the one who took out the event?
Brooks’ bff/’big sister’/roommate Isabella Nicholls (who, Brooks
says, absolutely rules the Timezone Pop-A-Shot nets).
Nicholls managed to win the final with good wave selection and
solid backhand hacks, making up for her meh performance against
Sally Fitz in the semis. Nicholls victory puts her in second place
on the CS rankings and on course to requalify for the 2025 CT
season.
Meanwhile, local surfer Jordy Lawler and Brazilian vet Alejo
Muniz revived their broken CT dreams with their best ever results
on the CS. Jordy Lawler said he was on the point of giving up the
chase for qualification after missing out on a fulltime place on
the CS this year.
Thanks to a wildcard entry into the event at his local break of
North Narrabeen, Lawler was able to dominate and win with his
tweaked-out airs and smooth hacks. The North Narrabeen Boardriders
roared their approval as their latest favourite son pulled out big
scores at the buzzer time and time again. Lawler is now all but
guaranteed wildcard places in the remaining CS events, giving him a
solid chance at qualifying for the CT for the first time at the
harvest years age of 29.
A casual fan might be tempted to gossip that the WSL had given
the judges a memo to favour the local guys, what with Mikey
McDonagh tearfully taking out the Bonsoy Gold Coast Pro Snapper
earlier this month. Of course, if you actually watched either event
you’d have seen that neither of them needed any help from crooked
judges: they smashed it out of the park on their own merits, albeit
buoyed by local support and knowledge of their home breaks.
Alejo Muniz similarly missed out on qualifying for the CS via
the usual pathway of the regional QS, but received a wildcard from
the WSL that got him back in with a chance. Muniz’s backhand power
surfing took out CS standout Sammy Pupo in the quarters and elder
brother Miggy Pupo in the Semis. Muniz kept close in the final and
was well deserving of the second-place finish.
The Challenger Series is on a break now until the Ballito Pro in
early July, but what a start it’s been. If you’ve been suffering
your way through the start of the CT season, watching the boring
Days 1 and 2 (where they take 24 heats to knock out just 6
surfers), enduring the crap conditions they’ve been making the
surfers compete it (especially the poor women), maybe give the CS a
look next time it’s on. The waves generally aren’t any worse, every
heat matters, the talent pool is deep and there’s real
excitement to be found in watching people grab hold of the dream of
CT qualification.
Did you watch the Sydney Surf Pro?
Did you rue the lack of a BG comments board on which to lavish
your observations/shitposts?
Did you not watch but have opinions anyway?
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Iconic Aussie beach shack owned by surf
legend and fronting 80km of pristine beach lists for $US1
million
Gorgeous almost-beachfront shack owned by
Australian champion and former hunter of Great Whites!
In one of the rarest opportunities you’ll find in the
wildly inflated Australian property market, an almost-beachfront
shack has hit the market for around one mill
US.
The former surfing champion Kim McKenzie, who is known as the
Mooloolaba Shark Girl ‘cause she worked with her daddy maintaining
the government’s shark meshing program in the seventies, has listed
her colourful weatherboard joint at 13 Mackerel St on Noosa’s North
Shore.
The two-bedder on six thousand square feet of sand, fifty steps
from the water, is painted various shades of blue and is decorated
with life preservers, paddles, and lobster pot floats, all the
detritus from a life at sea.
Noosa’s North Shore is that eighty-click stretch of sand, which
takes in the famous Double Island Point, surf that before you die,
across the Noosa river from Noosa itself.
If you want to solitude and empty waves, well, here’s your
chance. Fifteen minutes boat ride and you’re in the relative
madness of Noosa Heads.
Kim McKenzie, it must be added, is as firmly embedded in
Australian surfing folklore as anyone.
Recently, when word of her reputation as a sportswoman and
“sharkie” reached the publicity-conscious government agencies
responsible for promoting Australia abroad, Kim was written up in a
series of press handouts released through Aussie consulates
overseas. The article, together with her picture, appeared in a
score of newspapers in a dozen languages throughout Europe, the
Middle East and India. She is known today around the world as the
Shark Lady of Australia and in fact has received many letters so
addressed from readers everywhere (though she’s quick to add she’s
not the only woman sharkie). Ironically she has gone largely
unnoticed in her homeland—and she’s quite happy to leave it that
way. She’s not interested in stardom, let alone
sensationalism.
But it is hard NOT to be sensational about someone with
those credentials. Still, I had no idea what to expect when a
couple of weeks ago on a sultry afternoon I stepped off the plane
to meet Kim. She was barefoot and wearing corduroy shorts and a
colorful peasant blouse over her bikini — along with a white shell
necklace and a floppy wide-brimmed straw hat. Minutes later I was
sitting in the passenger seat of her in her blue high-performance
Toyota Celica LT, (complete with mag wheels, four-on-the-floor and
black-primed bullet nosed side view mirrors on Swiss cheese
mounts), listening to Carly Simon and James Taylor wail through
“Mockingbird” at high volume on the eight-track, and heading for
Caloundra for a quick surf (her second of the day).
Kim had already done a four-hour shark run that morning.
PLUS — as we loped along the backstretch at an easy 60mph, she laid
out this very together rap about her background, her job, life in a
small town and the people around her. No nervous laughter, no
games, no flirtation, no jive — just upfront and straight
ahead.
It was Sunday afternoonand the pleasant
two-to-three foot beachbreak at King’s was crowded but Kim found no
difficulty getting waves. No one dropped in on her.
Kim McKenzie is the Australian women’s surfing champion.
That’s what she does for fun. How she makes a living is something
else. During working hours, the husky 5-foot-9 blonde is the
official shark catcher for the State of Queensland, hauling in an
average of 350 saw-toothed monsters a year.
Kim is a 24-year-old who grew up in a beach village called
Mooloolaba, which is fronted by the Great Barrier Reef. She is
nonchalant about her unusual and dangerous profession.
“My father is a boat builder,” she explains in her heavy
accent, “so I always went fishing with him and helped him build
boats. I was terrible in school; I could never pass anything—I just
wanted to be around the water, so I quit before I got kicked out.
When the shark contract came up four years ago, we bid on it and
got it. Our job is to protect the swimmers at certain beaches. Now
my father’s stopped doing it, and I’m the skipper myself.”
Kim traps the majority of the sharks in 600-foot nets placed
outside the bathing area. Sharks trapped in the nets are usually
dead by the time Kim and her mate bring them in. She also sets 27
drum lines with bait each day. The hooked sharks usually remain
alive. Kim kills them with powerheads that contain 12-gauge shotgun
shells.
Although Kim appears totally unfazed by daily encounters
with all sizes and shapes of sharks, she has a healthy respect for
her prey.
“The first shark my father and I caught was a Great White,”
she recalls. “We brought it on board thinking it was dead, but it
wasn’t. It lashed around with its tail and knocked me against the
wheelhouse. I was stunned and bleeding; my father was hurt worse.
Finally we hung it off the side of the boat and shot it. Since then
I have never brought a shark on a boat again until I was sure it
was dead.”
“Sharks are definitely a threat to swimmers in Australia,”
she continues. “I never swim alone or at night. Sharks prowl at
night. I have a surfing friend who was attacked by a shark at dusk
while he was on his board. His friends came to his aid, but he was
badly mangled. I always surf at mid-day with plenty of people
around.”
Kim picks up about seven or eight Great Whites (you remember
the star of Jaws) a year.
“They are definitely the most dangerous,” she says. “I saw
Jaws and I can see why people would be frightened by it, but most
of the movie was inaccurate, as far as a shark’s behavior
goes.”
Kim became Australia’s women’s surfing champion, a title she
has held the past two years, on her days off from shark catching.
Now she is preparing for the Smirnoff World Pro-Am Surfing
Championship in Hawaii month, in which she and other women surfers
will compete against men.
“I like competing against men,” she states. “I have a better
time with them. I get too nervous with the girls. But no, I can’t
beat the really good men. No girls can just yet. Maybe in another
10 years, but certainly not now.”
Kim, who is single, lives with some mates, as she calls her
friends, and a Great Dane, and is in the process of building a
beach house with her own hands in her hometown of
Mooloolaba.
“I prefer American men to Australians,” she says definitely.
“Australia is a man’s country and the men are male chauvinists, to
say the least. American men are much more polite and thoughtful.
Maybe someday I’ll get married, but so far most men end up boring
me.”
“I’ll never get rich from surfing or shark catching,” shrugs
Kim McKenzie, who combines a hair-raising vocation with a merely
dangerous avocation, “but I don’t care. My only ambition is to be
happy. Things always turn out good for me, so I’ll always be
happy.”\
"I have had the privilege over my three-decade
career to work alongside some of the biggest brands and monumental
pioneers of our time,"
I just so happen to be in Oklahoma City, again,
and am hopping mad. Last time I was here, driving my daughter’s
Volkswagen from Cardiff by the Sea, California to Nashville,
Tennessee, I was in the throes of thrill. I had limped into town,
if you recall, searching for the mythical non-surfing professional
surfing fan when none other than World Surf League CEO Erik Logan
texted me, “Okc?!” He then proceeded to dangle a Barry
Switzer meeting and I could not believe my
fortune.
It turns out that Logan was boozed, or something, as he put me
on a text chain with a random person and Barry Switzer’s wife who
proclaimed to know nothing about surfing, or Logan, and stated she
would reach out to the authorities if bothered again.
Months later, E-Lo, as he enjoyed being called, was ruthlessly
fired in the most terse press release ever.
Though he had put himself front and center of everything surf,
even going so far as to wear timid champion Filipe Toledo’s skin,
Logan did not feel his vicious dismissal was worth sharing and kept
hidden. Kept hidden, that is, until he considered it the right time
to pop back up as a motivational speaker and, now, a Forbes
writer.
“I have had the privilege over my three-decade career to work
alongside some of the biggest brands and monumental pioneers of our
time,” he began his biography. “As president of The Oprah Winfrey
Network & Harpo, I reported directly to Oprah Winfrey for a decade
and oversaw the strategic shift that catapulted OWN to a top cable
network. Prior to that, I served as president of Harpo Inc. & Harpo
Studios, representing Oprah and Harpo on the Board of Directors for
OWN. Most recently, I was CEO of World Surf League, the
professional arm of surfing, and I held senior leadership positions
at XM Satellite Radio and CBS Radio. Today, I am a founding partner
of multiple companies, including the record company, Nashville
Harbor, and I am a partner in the e-commerce company, OTD, and The
Big Machine Music City Grand Prix. As an award-winning executive
producer, the intersection of leadership, content, and culture is
my passion.”
His first offering is 3 ways to Improve your Productivity
as a Leader and is teased with “Doing the next right
thing could be something mundane, such as taking out the trash or
returning a call; the most minor completed tasks count!”
Is leaving surf fans bereft, without a goodbye, the right thing,
Erik Logan?
Are we lower than trash?
Well?
You have my number and also Barry Switzer’s wife’s number.