Kai Mckenzie returns to surf after losing leg in a Great White attack
With one of his old boards under his arm he jumped in the shorebreak and paddled out. He sat out there alone for a few minutes before his crew followed him into the lineup. Kai even caught a couple of waves laying down. He’s mates with a bunch of the boog crew in Port who were there at North Wall to support him. “They reckon I’ve actually got a pretty good boog style,” he laughs.

Pro surfer Kai Mckenzie who lost leg to Great White just went surfing at the same place he got attacked

“It actually felt a lot like the day it happened. I just stayed really focused on getting straight back out there and shaking it off.”

That old hackneyed cliche of turning citrus fruit into a delicious thirst-quenching drink sure do fit Australian shredder Kai Mckenzie who has emerged from the haze of surgeries and shock of losing a stilt to a Great White shark in brilliant form.

Recently, Kai got himself back in the water, bouncing down the sand on his one remaining leg and stealing into little tubes as a surfboard-riding booger.

Surfing World, that wildly under appreciated surfing magazine run as a labour of love by two of the greats in the game, Sean Doherty and Jon Frank, documented the event beautifully.

 

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Best thing ya gonna see today.

A couple of weeks back @kai_mckenzie had his first surf since losing his leg to a white shark at North Wall. Where’d he go? Straight back out to North Wall with a bunch of his mates. We’ve got a story with this legend in the new mag which comes out next week. It’s fucking inspirational stuff.

“But before he gets his prosthetic leg and starts surfing again, Kai has to get back in the water. He knows exactly where he’s going first. “I just want to go paddle back out at North Wall and sit there and get past that shit, then I’ll be sweet.”

Just as this mag went to print, that happened.

On a Monday morning, three months after the attack, Kai returned to North Wall. Three-foot, clean, sunny, nobody around. “It actually felt a lot like the day it happened,” reflects Kai. With him this time was a small group of family and friends who recognised the importance of what Kai was about to do and wanted to be there with him.

“That was the biggest thing for me,” he says. “I wanted to get back into the water. I just stayed really focused on getting straight back out there and shaking it off.”

With one of his old boards under his arm he jumped in the shorebreak and paddled out. He sat out there alone for a few minutes before his crew followed him into the lineup. Kai even caught a couple of waves laying down. He’s mates with a bunch of the boog crew in Port who were there at North Wall to support him. “They reckon I’ve actually got a pretty good boog style,” he laughs. “They gave me a board and I’m going to be on the lid now for a bit, I reckon. It’s good, those guys fire me up.”

“But it’s gone now,” he says of the psychological weight of being back out in the water. “It’s done. Time for the next step.”

Surfer of the year?

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Kelly Slater Abu Dhabi wave pool
"The Surf Abu Dhabi Pro may seem like the smallest of small fry in the sportswashing game, and on paper it is. But the point is to get our eyes on the field, on the players, on the highlight reels and the standings, and away from the torture and detention and state-sponsored killings and whatnot. You don't get all the goodwill when you buy a team – not right away. But stick around long enough and the fans will forget that the team owners know the guys who gave money to the 9/11 terrorists, and later ordered the vivisection suitcase-stuffing hit on Saudi critic Jamal Khashoggi."

Surf Abu Dhabi Pro a masterclass in sports washing, “The point is to get our eyes on the field and away from the torture and killings”

What's in it for surfing? WSL gets a cut. Slater, too. The pros have a new CT contest – except nobody wanted it

It took years, nearly a decade in fact, but I finally cycled through all the stages of grief regarding Kelly Slater’s Westworld-lite wavepoolonly to end up, surprisingly, more or less back where I started.

Nonplussed. Cool. Maybe a bit arch.

I could ignore Surf Ranch or laugh at it, whichever suited. Not laugh hahaha, like Raglan Surf Report, but I can eye-roll Surf Ranch and judge it dismissively, as my social media feeds serve up clips of soft-top-riding billionaire-celeb rookie surfers being gently inserted by Raimana Van Bastolaer into those long boring 8-bit Atari tubes, at $500 per wave—or a half-week’s wages for your average nonprofit surf history website Executive Director.

Like I say, no problem. Carry on.

I will fly economy to the southwest corner of Costa Rica next spring, and if Ivanka Trump, Lewis Hamilton, and Prince Harry are going three-up in the barrel that week at Surf Ranch with Raimana riding alongside like a big friendly Polynesian manatee, screaming high-pitched encouragement while crying inside, I will feel that much better for my non-remunerative life choices

But hold on now.

Here comes Slater’s new Middle East pool (Surf Abu Dhabi) on Al Hudayriyat in the United Arab Emirates, an artificial wave next to an artificial mountain range on a huge 25-mile-perimeter artificial island, everything 100% master-planned, dedicated to lux-living and entertainment; the whole gleaming terraformed megaproject built by a government-mandated group called Modon Properties.

And sure as mushrooms spring from cow flop, we quickly get the WSL-backed Abu Dhabi Longboard Classic (held last month), and the upcoming Surf Abu Dhabi Pro, second event on the 2025 WCT schedule—sponsored by Modon Properties.

I tried to remain nonplussed but confess that this video plussed me a bit—Surf Abu Dhabi, and our chipper onscreen tour guide, both look like they belong in a director’s cut of The Truman Show. Then Ben Mondy’s latest “Surf Bugle” newsletter—subject-line: “Why the Fuck is the WSL in the UAE? And Why is No One Talking About it?” —hit my inbox on Thursday and that knocked me right back to the anger and depression stages of wavepool grief.

I retired my Bernie Sanders Signature Model EOS political soapbox some years ago, but have dusted it off. Don’t worry. This will be quick—my righteous-cause stamina, like this faltering iPhone 12 Mini I’m still using, no longer holds much of a charge.

We start with the Emirates human rights scorecard, which is less-bad than it was five years ago, but still dismal. Don’t be gay or female in the UAE, for starters. Check your democracy at the door.

Leading us to sportswashing, which is the emirs and sheiks extending a friendly hand, saying, tell you what, let’s just do sports, everybody, all of us, East and West, Muslim, Christian, Jew—you guys have the teams and the players, we have the money, let’s put our heads together and make it work for everybody.

Saudi Arabia remains the undefeated champion of Middle East sportswashing, but other Arab petrostate powers are closing the gap, with the UAE washing harder than anybody these past few years. Football, Formula 1, tennis, and of course golf—Arab investment in these and other sports is huge and still skyrocketing. (I no longer bleed Laker blue like I did in my NBA-loving youth, but was relieved nonetheless to find out that the dreaded Celtics are the ones scheduling preseason games in Abu Dhabi.)

The Surf Abu Dhabi Pro may seem like the smallest of small fry in the sportswashing game, and on paper it is. But the point is to get our eyes on the field, on the players, on the highlight reels and the standings, and away from the torture and detention and state-sponsored killings and whatnot. You don’t get all the goodwill when you buy a team – not right away.

But stick around long enough and the fans will forget that the team owners know the guys who gave money to the 9/11 terrorists, and later ordered the vivisection suitcase-stuffing hit on Saudi critic Jamal Khashoggi.

Like I say, surfing, by the numbers, is nothing compared to soccer or the NBA or Formula 1.

But surfing still looks cooler, more Western, more mysterious, than anything else out there. My take is we lost our hipness cred back when Fonzie was jump-starting the jukebox with his fist, but the rest of the world doesn’t know that, and if I was sitting on the fourth-largest economy in the Middle East and trying to throw an invisibility blanket over various and sundry civil rights abuses, sure, absolutely, build a pool and take a million from the petty-cash drawer for prize money for a CT event and Bashar’s your uncle, when’s the first heat?

That’s a good deal from the Emir’s side, in other words.

But what about us? What’s in it for surfing? WSL gets a cut, I suppose. Slater, too. The pros have a new CT contest – except nobody wanted it; the Surf Ranch Pro was everybody’s least-favorite tour event by a mile, and moving it from Lemoore to the UAE is not going to bump up its popularity.

There are probably some young blue-blood UAE scions who will get stoked enough by the new pool to break out to chase real waves, so count that as a small win, I guess. The sport meanwhile chisels off another piece of what’s left of its briny soul, and some tiny few among us take a seat, like Succession extras, on the world’s most elite lounges and verandahs.

But we’re not actually in the club. We are and always will be decorative. When the emir gets up, Slater follows along holding the umbrella.

Nothing will change or alter the direction we’re on. Wavepools are here to stay, the sport has not self-funded for decades, and surfing’s marquee names will continue to conform, emulate, obey. I’m writing this to make myself feel a little better, is all; some of you, maybe most of you, are with me on most of this, but you all know that we’re basically standing on the jetty, flipping off the cruise ship as it leaves the harbor.

Ben Mondy shamed me into this Joint, just by speaking out first, and I’m grateful. In fact, here is the exact bit in Ben’s piece that got me writing this morning, it comes right at the beginning:

“Isn’t it time we talked about the ethics of surfing in Abu Dhabi, cause no one else is?”

That was a pitch to a number of the major surf publications I did a month ago.

“I’m there right now, so let’s leave it alone, ha, ha!” was one Editor’s response. 



No prize for guessing the name of “major surf publication” (hint: it’s a website, not a publication). I was going to do a longer bit on what it means to no longer have an independent non-satirical surf media, but we’re out of space. 

So there is my bitter little report on the state of play here in 2024, in terms of our our place in the culture at large. We get bigger and duller at the same time.

On the bright side, I suppose none of this means much in the end. We surf to escape all kinds of things. We can therefore surf to escape from surfing.

(You like this? Matt Warshaw delivers a surf essay every Sunday, PST. Maybe time to subscribe to Warshaw’s Encyclopedia of Surfing, yeah? Fifty bucks a year.)

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PSSC (pictured) in all its glory.
PSSC (pictured) in all its glory.

A Peasant’s Guide To The Palm Spring’s Surf Club Part 2: There Are No Barrels For Peasants In Palm Springs

"This really isn’t surfing—this is riding artificial waves in a pool with a surfboard."

Like General MacArthur returning to the Philippines, I have returned to the Palm Springs Surf Club (“PSSC”).

When I last visited, it was January, the water was a balmy 55 degrees, I was paddling on a torn triceps tendon (which really should have occurred to me at the time), and I did not get to surf the slabbing wave setting on account of some pumps being down.

A mere days after my prior article was published, PSSC announced it was shutting down for further repairs/refinements. Was this a direct result of my hard-nosed investigative prowess? My ego says yes, but common sense would suggest that this was inevitable if people were shelling out the dough for private/more expensive sessions and the pool was only capable of pumping out the intermediate wave.

Nine months and one distal triceps tendon repair surgery since then, PSSC is back open for business. So, has anything changed? Is the slabbing wave any good? Is this place really a worthy venue for the ‘28 Olympics?

Read and find out.

Or don’t, go directly to the comments section, and see if you can somehow turn this subject into a political debate instead—I hear that Arnold Palmer’s schlong is quite the talk of the town these days.

Unlike my last PSSC visit, I am not alone. Com’s buddy is also booked for the very same sessions—the slab wave in the morning and the intermediate wave in the afternoon.

I have not told him that he might not be ready for the slab wave given that he’s a bit slower than I am to get to his feet (and in that sense, maybe I’m not all that ready either). In fact, I have told him precisely the opposite, and there’s a fair chance he’ll ultimately be pissed at me for telling him that it’s an easy chip in and that he’ll have no problem getting pool barreled when I have no idea whether this is actually true. In any event, he is a strong swimmer, so I’m pretty sure he won’t panic and think he’s going to drown if he gets pitched and pounded.

With this potential setback in mind, I have prophylactically gifted him as an early gag birthday present, a 5-fin set from Phallic Fins, which are convincingly shaped like dicks. These fins will become unexpectedly noteworthy later in the day in a rather bemusing way.

10:00 a.m.: Upon entry, the place looks roughly the same as my last visit, though construction of what appears to be the framework for a small hotel overlooking the pool is under way.

When I inquire about the wave setting applicable to the earlier sessions we are observing, YET FUCKING AGAIN, barrel hubris strikes—there are no barreling waves at PSSC on offer today in any of the public sessions. This time, it is not a technical issue with the pumps like it was back in January. Instead, PSSC has presumably moved the goalposts in terms of what constitutes the “Advanced A-Frame,” a setting that was formerly described as follows:

“These slabby cylinders give surfers the option to pull in on the takeoff and come out in time to do one or two more turns if you are quick enough.”

Now, it basically looks like the intermediate wave I surfed back in January with perhaps a touch more height and a touch more juice, but it is certainly not barreling (and as of the publishing of this article, the photo on the PSSC website for the Advanced A-Frame misleadingly still shows the very same barreling wave the website displayed back in January).

That being said, the other explanation for this could be that PSSC originally overrepresented the “Advanced A-Frame” in the first place, and this is merely the same wave setting that was formerly described as “slabby cylinders.” On the second or third wave of each 6-wave set, you might get a very brief little head dip, but “slabby cylinders” or a proper barrel this is certainly not.

There’s still a slab/barreling setting as I understand it, but you’ll evidently have to book a private session for that. This is also coupled with the fact that the public sessions for this wave are 1/3rd more expensive than they were back in January. I have doubts about whether this business model is going to work out for PSSC unless they have all kinds of private sessions reliably lined up for like the next 10 years. At any rate, there are no barrels for peasants in Palm Springs unless they start making those waves available for public sessions in the future.

This sets PSSC apart from the majority of the other quasi-affordable wave pools out there. The fact that URBN Surf in Sydney is $109 AUS (which is like, $30 USD) per hour while Waco is $179 USD per hour further makes the $224 USD per hour PSSC price tag on the pricier end of things.

I suppose I am just not going to know what the PSSC slab is like, as the aforementioned lack of transparency coupled with the price hike is not exactly making me particularly jazzed about returning. As George W. Bush once brilliantly said, “Fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can’t get fooled again.”

11:30 a.m.: The first session gets under way, and what do you know, this wave has more push than the intermediate wave I surfed last January. It’s about 3 – 3.5 feet throughout, and the end section, though still tricky, doesn’t just completely evaporate as you come off your top turn (this time, it just mostly evaporates). Getting three turns in is also a bit easier than it is on the intermediate wave. My 6’4” asym rail line is still way too long for this wave, so I manage three turns per wave only once during the entire session.

I will say though, that surfing this pool in boardshorts and a rashguard in 70ish degree water is a far more pleasant experience than in 55 degree water with a 4/3 and booties. What’s more, I find a way to exclusively go right (I despise lefts) after none of the other surfers presumably feel like insisting that the biggest guy out there switch sides. In any event, I can see how enough reps on this wave might improve your surfing when you’re on a wave every two minutes and fifteen seconds during the course of an hour.

12:30 p.m: The first session wraps up, and my buddy and I hit the bar and the lazy river on the other side of the property where the non-surfing sunbathers are. We are told by two separate bartenders and at least one lifeguard that beers on the lazy river are fine if in a plastic cup. And if you pass up a chance to sip a beer on a lazy river, you clearly hate freedom and are likely a Russian and/or Chinese spy.

After one lazy river lap, another teenage lifeguard who is less than half my age and a foot shorter than me tells us no beers allowed and that beer drinking only applies on weekends. My buddy reminds him that today is goddamn Saturday and that we were told otherwise by multiple employees, but he changes his explanation to “summertime weekends.” I chug my beer and depart the lazy river as the kid tries to give me a lecture about not listening to him. I give him an indifferent stare, say nothing, and walk back to the bar for another beer.

The swimming pool that the lazy river encircles is 90% full of men and women alike who absolutely do not have the body type to pull off their respective swimwear of choice. Truth be told, it’s a rather accurate representation of the general American populace these days in terms of both BMI and abject self-delusion. Still, you’d have to be staying at a pretty nice hotel in the greater Palm Springs/Palm Desert area to do much better than these pool accommodations. It also appears that PSSC now has the waterslides of the former water park working, and there are fair few screaming kids about.

In terms of hosting a surf contest of any appreciable significance, the venue can accommodate a crowd of perhaps a couple thousand who might have a view of the wave if this is where the ‘28 Olympics is going to be, though this will be a far cry from the 50K – 70K person capacity stadiums that will be hosting the sports that anyone actually cares about.

I further expect that the 120 degree air and 90 degree water that will predominate during the months of July and August is bound to cause a bit of heat stroke among the athletes and the attending fans alike. I’m not sure if running the competition at night is going to substantially change that, but there might be some lawsuits either way.

2:30p.m.: I decide to switch to a 6’1” Dark Arts twin for the next session and crush my sixth alcoholic beverage of the afternoon. As the other surfers start to get ready for the afternoon session, my buddy and I are solicited by another surfer on behalf of his friend who only has brought side fins and needs to borrow a center fin.

We inform him that we can absolutely lend him a center fin, but it’s a fin that is literally shaped like a dick. His eyes narrow, he gives us a “what the fuck is wrong with you guys?” look, and mumbles that his friend will probably figure something out. We never learn whether or not his friend has just opted to go without a center fin in lieu of a dick fin or was otherwise accommodated with less phallic looking equipment.

3:00 p.m.: The intermediate wave is pretty much the intermediate wave I surfed last January. It turns out that the Dark Arts twin goes way better than my prior board choice and I even somehow manage a backside carve or two when I finally end up going left.

4:00 p.m.: The intermediate session ends and I am somehow just about as gassed after two sessions in boardshort water temperature than I was after three sessions back in January in 4/3 water temperature. In lieu of hanging out any further in Palm Springs, we make our way back to Orange County.

6:40 p.m.: A few much delayed post-surf beers are imbibed at Unsung Brewery in Anaheim. My buddy has caught the bug and suggests we get a group together for a private session. I’m more than a bit ambivalent about that, but there’s no way I’m gonna be the guy who both fronts and thereafter seeks reimbursement of the $7,000 private session price tag for two hours in that tub from 11 other surfers.

So, to answer the questions posed at the beginning, has anything changed? Well, the pool is fully operational, but the Advanced A-Frames are certainly not the “slabby cylinders” that were previously advertised. All public sessions are also 1/3rd more expensive as they previously were. There are also more non-surfer patrons than there were in January (most of whom need to make more realistic choices in their swimwear) and the waterslides appear to be working. Whether you can drink a beer on the lazy river depends on who you talk to.

Is the slabbing wave any good? I’ll likely never know.

Is this place really a worthy venue for the ‘28 Olympics? I’d rather watch the ‘28 Olympics held in 1 – 2 foot onshore Huntington Beach slop than in this place. On principle alone, as stated in my previous article, this really isn’t surfing—this is riding artificial waves in a pool with a surfboard. In terms of the ability to accommodate an in-person crowd, Huntington Beach obviously blows this place out of the water, not to mention the fact that the weather at the beach in July and August is far more temperate than in the middle of the desert.

But if the goal is to create an utterly miserable experience for the surfers, fans, and onsite staff during the swelting July and August months, by all means, hold the ‘28 Olympics at PSSC.

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Surfing continues stratospheric royal rise as King Charles openly fawns over “amazing” surf clubs in Bondi!

Sport of King Charleses.

Of all the narratives that could have enveloped our surfing, this year, the House of Windsor falling head-over-heels in love with water sliding certainly had long odds. But here we are and here it is. We have Prince Harry standing sturdy-leg’d on a man-made right at Kelly Slater’s Lemoore, California Surf Ranch, flashing an inimitable wastrel style. Then, a two hour drive to the shores of the mighty Pacific, and a quick hop over to Australia, we have his father King Charles simply overwhelmed by the surf clubs in Bondi.

His Majester happens to be “Down Under” in order to help his country’s former convicted felons celebrate the bicentenary of the New South Wales Legislative Council at the New South Wales Parliament House in Sydney. But first, as most British do, Bondi. Spring is in full bloom on that iconic strip of coast and the water incredibly inviting, save some pesky black tar balls. And while I might have suggested a swing in to the promenade-fronting McDonalds in order to sample some gravy loaded fries, the King opted for the local surf club which he described as “amazing” to member of parliament Kellie Sloane.

While many thrilled at the royal seal of approval, others doubted that it was really King Charles at the club, calling it “100% a body double.”

Do you have an opinion?

While you are thinking, it is important to recall the time when The Firm hired an Australian model to kiss then Prince Charles on Bondi’s beach so that he would appear more “accessible.”

Do you have an opinion on that too?

Please share.

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Felicity Palmateer, twisted ovary after rough sex.
Felicity Palmateer tells surf fans she all busted up after hard sexing.

Top female surfer rushed to hospital after ovary twisted during “rough sex”

“Put your finger down if you got jackhammered so hard your ovary got twisted and now you’re in ER about to undergo surgery."

The noted big-wave surfer, Eddie Invitee, Jaws shredder, and WSL commentator Felicity Palmateer has amassed over 10 million views, 9500 comments and 56,000 shares on a TikTok post where she tells surf fans she’s in hozzy ‘cause she got all busted up during rough sex.

“Put your finger down if you got jackhammered so hard your ovary got twisted and now you’re in the emergency room about to undergo surgery to save your ovary,” said the thirty-two-year-old Western Australian.

@flickpalmateerMorphine makes you say some funny things…♬ original sound – Flick Palmateer

Among the thousands of comments were harrowing tales of other gals who got dicked so hard they were busted up in the guts.

“Had an ovarian cyst I never knew I had burst due to jackhammering That hurt so much couldn’t walk, almost passed out and almost threw up, ended up in the ER been told I may be prone to cysts Second time bro done sent me to the ER anyone else?

“I actually have! Thanks god it flipped back on its own before the surgery! Ovarian torsion is painful after!!!!”

“!0000% was I have never seen a man so embarrassed and proud at the same time ”

“I had a cyst rupture the same way and lord almighty I thought I was dying, I couldn’t imagine a twisted ovary!!! Hope you’ll heal up okay!”

“I had a cyst rupture doing that needed emergency surgery because it was a hemorrhagic cyst and I was bleeding internally.”

Other comments expressed a jealousy they ain’t got a real man in their lives.

“What’s his name?”

“That guy out there with power tools and I’m working with an IKEA allen wrench.”

“He’s gonna tell this story forever.”

“Does he have a brother?”

“Some people living our dreams ”

For size queens, the story has a queer end. Turns out ol Flick didn’t get hurt by D but is  high on morphine after some other unspecified procedure.

“At least you’re getting some ” wrote one fan.

Flick replied,

“Haha I wish! I’m high as a kite on morphine.”

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