Shane Stedman ugg boot inventor
“It wasn’t that long ago we wouldn’t lock up, the windows were open, you’d never think about locking up at night. Times have changed. If people have got dogs they poison the dogs, if people have got security lights or cameras they unscrew ‘em, or paint ‘em black,” says Shane Stedman.

Iconic surf town under siege from thieves as young as eight as Ugg boot mastermind recounts three am home invasion

"Young children, aged between eight and 15, out late at night, entering homes with machetes and axes, stealing cars and money.”

The octogenarian mastermind behind the sheepskin boot, Shane Stedman, also a top-tier swordsman, surfboard shaper and recipient of an Order of Australia medal it has to be added, was robbed last week by a gang of teen thieves inside his Crescent Head house. 

His new Landcruiser Sahara 300, $150,000 of almost-unbreakable Japanese muscle with only ten thousand k’s on the clock and which was getting set-up to take him and his gal Jenny on Australia-wide adventures was stolen, thrashed and then burned. 

Read about that here. 

Crescent Head, if you didn’t know, has a weak and unchallenging, but very pretty point break. It is real popular with longboarders and Great White sharks, sometimes both at the same time. There are occasionally good beachbreaks although it is verboten to speaketh the name of that Hossegor-like stretch.

The joint’s location twenty clicks off the main highway and the hellhole rural town of Kempsey, that joint gives me Wake in Fright vibes every time I fly through it, meant that, for a long time, it was spared the crime that comes from hopeless people living hopeless lives in hopeless and bleak little towns.

“It wasn’t that long ago we wouldn’t lock up, the windows were open, you’d never think about locking up at night. Times have changed. If people have got dogs they poison the dogs, if people have got security lights or cameras they unscrew ‘em, or paint ‘em black,” Shane tells me.

“Now I’ve got this place locked like Fort Knox! You’d need a jackhammer to get in here!”

Sleepy little surf town like Crescent Head and nearby South-West Rocks where Chris Davo’s life ended, has been labelled an easy mark by kiddy crooks egged on, says Shane, by “elders who are telling the kids, ‘These white buggers stole your country. Go and steal from them.’”

“Some of the stories you hear are horrendous,” Kempsey Shire Council deputy mayor Julie Coburn told the press.

“Children have always been involved in petty crimes, but we are talking about young children, aged between eight and 15, out late at night, entering homes with machetes and axes, stealing cars and money.”

Shane Stedman reckons of the two crims who busted into his joint, two were about twelve with an older man telling ’em what to take and what to leave.

All of ‘em in hoods and wearing gloves.

“They’re quite innovative,” says Shane. “If they put their minds to doing good, they’d help the world instead of hindering it. If they want to do something in Crescent they go down to South-West Rocks to cause a disturbance and then when the cops go there they know they’re free to come to Crescent and do what they want. They’re not silly. Just sad. I feel sorry for ‘em to be honest.”

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Donald J. Trump (right) and what might have been (insert). Photo: The Apprentice
Donald J. Trump (right) and what might have been (insert). Photo: The Apprentice

Presidential candidate Donald Trump rues not becoming surfer on eve of election

"I could have been standing at the beach, my beautiful white skin getting nice and tan. Being smacked, being smacked in the face by a wave loaded up with salt..."

It is election day, in America, in case you were unaware. Happy men and women, each over the age of eighteen, giddily traipsing to polling locations in order to place a vote for their preferred candidates and issues. A wonderful sense of optimism in the air as they greet each other along the way.

“Morning, friend.”

“Howdy, neighbor.”

The headlining act is, of course, Republican Donald J. Trump and Democrat Kamala Harris who are both running to be President of these extremely United States. Now, some children grow up dreaming that someday, they might sit in the White House themselves. Trump, indeed, has squatted in the Oval Office signing bills into law etc. though at his final campaign stop it appears he rues not chasing a different sort of life.

That of a surfer.

At one of his rallies in Virginia, Trump gazed ruefully at his adoring audience and declared, “I didn’t need this. I didn’t need to be with you tonight. I could have been standing at the beach, my beautiful white skin getting nice and tan. Being smacked, being smacked in the face by a wave loaded up with salt, salt water. And I could have said, ‘The hell with everything. I could have had the greatest life in the world. Instead, I got missing a little piece of my ear.’”

The greatest life in the world, without question, though may there still be time for the 78-year-old Florida local to tan that beautiful white skin and get smacked in the face by a wave loaded up with salt? Surfing’s current greatest of all-time Kelly Slater is 58, a mere two decades younger than Trump, and also the wild influx of vulnerable adult learners, post-COVID, has highlighted that it’s never too late to start.

Very exciting.

Speaking of Slater, though, do you think his BFF Tulsi Gabbard and idol Joe Rogan have convinced him to vote for Trump thus keeping him out of the water and dealing with national problems?

Surfing shade is something he throws best.

Sneaky old GOAT.

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Shark attack survivor Cole Taschman.
Shark attack survivor (x 2) Cole Taschman, hitting the skies before the bite and, inset, healing up in a chair.

Surfer who survived second shark attack vows to surf again, “Mama didn’t raise no bitch!”

"Half way to the hospital the pain hits. I was passing out. My girlfriend was slapping me on the head, my friends were dumping water on my face."

Cole Taschman remembers the first time he was bitten by a shark surfing Bathtub beach on Florida’s Treasure coast twelve years ago.

“I was in waist deep water, walking out, then standing there, about to jump a wave. I saw him coming, a four-foot black tip, reef pup. His fin was outta the water, darting towards me. He was twenty yards away, made it to me in four seconds. Bit my hand, twelve stitches.”

Cole tells this story with the same ease and panache Quint tells the tale of the Indianapolis at midnight from the Orca.

Cole’s voice is salted, crusty, even for a young man, peppered with more experience than age. He’s a fishing boat captain, so he’s seen our boys in the open sea up close and personal and knows them well. He speaks about his most recent event at Bathtub beach, bitten for the second time, but this dental impression leaves a more resonating scar.

I ask him to describe the physical feeling of layered teeth sinking in.

Theres a pause, short breath.

“It’s indescribable. Like jumping outta a plane. You can never recreate it. The first thing I thought was, ‘I gotta get to shore.’ THEN comes ‘I’m bit.’ The pain doesn’t exist.”

The shark came from behind and bit both ankles and feet.

“A set wave came and I managed to take it to the beach. My two friends were there. They used leashes as tourniquets to stop the massive amounts of blood.”

The long ride to the hospital?

“Half way to the hospital the pain hits. I was passing out. My girlfriend was slapping me on the head, my friends were dumping water on my face.”

Three surgeries, ninety three stitches and ten ten staples later, Cole was stablised and eventually sent home where he sits, literally, in a world chair. He sure did come close to losing both feet.

Is he going to surf the tepid, oh so inviting waters for both species of Bathtub beach again?

“Hell yeah, mama didn’t raise no bitch!”

Cole is the Cap of a Florida fishing boat, no health insurance, and ouuuee those stitches ain’t the ones ya find at a sewing circle. If you’re so inclined, help a brah put a dent in the docs bill for sterilized needles. ie hit his gofundme here. 

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A PEASANT’S GUIDE TO THE PALM SPRINGS SURF CLUB, THE FINAL CHAPTER: FLOGGINGS FOR SALE!

"This session is for EXPERTS ONLY; it requires advanced paddle techniques, strong wave selection, and the ability to navigate heavy conditions."

The Oxford dictionary defines “persistence” as “firm or obstinate continuance in a course of action in spite of difficulty or opposition.”

Albert Einstein is attributed to have once said, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results” (except he never actually said that or anything remotely close thereto).

If both of these definitions are true though, a man resolutely determined to accomplish something by doing the same thing over and over might never know whether he is persistent or insane. Like Sisyphus himself, he just keeps pushing that rock back up that hill only have it fall back down each time, self-assured that one day, that stupid damn rock is going to stay in place atop the hill. And to the rest of the world, he is considered insane once he is seen to fail again and again but keeps trying again and again anyway. Ultimately though, the true distinction between persistence and insanity is not what is in a man’s mind—it is the ultimate result of his efforts.

This is because the moment that rock stays at the top of the hill, the man is no longer insane according to the rest of the world. Instead, he is a “hard worker,” he is “entitled to the fruits of his labor,” and/or he is “the model American.” Now, he is “persistent,” even though the only thing that has actually changed is that the rock finally didn’t roll back down the hill after he pushed it all the way up there. To this point, perhaps persistence is merely just one more curious facet of insanity.

BeachGrit commentariat, despite writing the place off, I have yet again returned to the Palm Springs Surf Club (“PSSC”), I have surfed the barreling A-Frame, and this will be my final article thereon.

So, am I insane? Are you insane? Is the whole damn world insane? Are we going to just argue about the election in the comments section instead?

Less than two weeks following my most recent article on this subject, I receive a PSSC email indicating that November sessions are available, and a new public session wave is on offer for the low low price of $265 per hour called the “Pro A-Frame.” This wave is described as follows on the PSSC website:

“The 5 wave Pro A-Frame session features a slab like takeoff and an 8 second interval between waves. The Pro A-Frame breaks both left and right, creating a dynamic playground for expert surfers. Surfers can expect rapid drop-ins, challenging barrel sections, and the opportunity to execute performance turns mid wave and airs on the end section. The wave ranges from a head high takeoff to a shoulder high end section.

This session is for EXPERTS ONLY; it requires advanced paddle techniques, strong wave selection, and the ability to navigate heavy conditions. Only those with extensive experience should attempt to harness the power of these A-frames, as safety and skill are paramount in this exhilarating environment.”

Could this be the slabby wave I was originally promised back in January? I have never been accused of being an “expert” in the surfing ability context, though I’ve certainly had plenty of expertise in getting my sorry ass pounded in hollow surf worse than a roofied Diddy Freak Off party invitee. “Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,” I say aloud to no one in particular as I smash that purchase button.

7:15 a.m.: I arrive and start unpacking. The session is at 8:00 a.m., which means I am up before dawn to drive out there having consumed enough caffeine to kill a small horse or large capybara. There are only three other guys who have signed up for this session. I already know that one of them is no slouch having shared a session with him at PSSC a couple weeks back, the other guy is from Hawaii and therefore has a rebuttable presumption of competence, and the final guy has at least surfed this place before. This is very good news, since it means we all get our own waves and can go any direction we like, try to backdoor a section, etc. We’re told that these waves come in roughly half the intervals of the other A-Frame settings—every 8 seconds instead of every 15 seconds.

8:00 a.m.: The first session gets started. The Hawaiian gets clamped. The second guy gets pitched. The third guy gets pitched. I paddle for my wave thinking I’m going to make the drop. The lip explodes behind me as I get to my feet and I’m sent straight to the bottom. This is when I realize that the peak of the Pro A-Frame is roughly thrice as powerful as the Advanced A-Frame and the takeoff is about five times more difficult. Getting either pitched or clipped is something that will happen to me for the majority of the rest of the hour.

8:05 a.m.: One of the guys working the pool jumps in, bringing our total number up to five. I recognize him as a local pro who has probably been the most barreled surfer at the Northside of the HB Pier over the last 10+ years when that place turns on. As expected, he has an exponentially better go at it than any of the rest of us, but as a measure of how tricky this wave is, even this pro doesn’t make every drop.

8:35 a.m.: No one gets barreled as far as I’ve seen. Perhaps the pro has, but I’ve spent a good portion of my time at the bottom of the pool, so I haven’t always had a fantastic vantage point. I try going left to see if I’ll fare any better grabbing rail. That doesn’t really work much better, I eventually get properly flogged, and my leash string breaks. According to the employees, finding yourself on the business side of one of these lips has been proven to be a board breaker, so a leash string is a rather paltry sacrifice to the pool gods, all things considered.

8:40 a.m.: After grabbing a backup board with an intact leash string and a bit more rocker, I abandon trying to take off deep and see about doing some turns. It is a decidedly easier takeoff a handful of feet wide of the of the peak. There’s also more power and more size than the Advanced A-Frame out in the turn section of this wave. The pocket, while still narrower than an ocean wave, is a little more forgiving and gives you a bit more runway before reaching dead water, and the end section has the most push out of any of the other A-Frames.

9:00 a.m.: The session ends and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this exhausted after a single hour of surfing. This is a one-and-done day for me, so I head back down south to go put in a half day of soul sucking work.

4:00 p.m.: After a half-day’s work of soul sucking, it is beer o’clock, and I ruminate over these three trips to PSSC I’ve taken over the past year over a few suds. Though I was previously a bit disappointed with the Intermediate A-Frame and the Advanced A-Frame, I have to say that PSSC has adequately delivered with the Pro A-Frame in spite of its heftier price. I wanted a wave that both barreled and was capable of delivering a good pounding, that’s exactly what I finally got, and I’d rather get pitched and clipped for the better part of an hour trying to get shacked (even if it’s a fake pool barrel) than trying to milk a couple weak turns out of the more gutless A-Frame settings.

So, with the benefit of experiencing all of these waves, has my opinion changed on the overall peasant PSSC experience? As to the Intermediate or Advanced A-Frames, I still could take them or leave them. As much as I hate to say it though, the Pro A-Frame is mostly legit.

Is this place a worthy venue for the ‘28 Olympics presuming PSSC can run the contest in waves of the same power as the Pro A-Frame? The answer is still no. Surfing is in the ocean.

Finally, am I persistent or am I just insane? I suppose that depends on how you view the result of all of this. On the one hand, I have finally gotten to experience what I thought I had signed up for back in January, which means that I’ve successfully pushed one rock up a hill and that rock is staying put.

On the other hand, I haven’t even come close to making an artificial PSSC barrel yet, though I question why I should even really care about something that isn’t even a real wave. In that sense, I can see in the distance that there’s another hill over yonder with another rock at the bottom of it.

And indeed, we all inexorably move on to something else the moment we tick a box, the moment we achieve something, the moment that fleeting sense of contentment begins to fade. This is just as true for the rest of our lives as it is with surfing, though our pointless ocean endeavor certainly tends to take center stage in the “nothing is ever enough” department.

There’s always one more hill in the world. There’s always one more rock in the world. And there always will be, unless and until we become incapable of pushing that rock up the hill and/or we are crushed underneath its weight.

At the end of the day, the difference between persistence and insanity is a temporary one, for given enough time, the world makes all of us insane.

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Chris Martin (pictured) in a trap door.
Chris Martin (pictured) in a trap door.

Australian surf fans gasp in horror as Malibu local Chris Martin falls into trapdoor during Coldplay concert!

“Thank you for catching me, so much. Holy s–t."

Australian surf fans were abuzz, yesterday, as they prepared to go and watch Coldplay’s Chris Martin perform the bands many hits in the cultural capital of Melbourne. While originally from Exeter, England, the 47-year-old crooner moved to Malibu, California some two years ago and became a notable longboard/funboard surfer. Surf fans, therefore, practicing the long tradition of supporting other surf fans, came out in droves, packing Marvel Stadium with at record-breaking 227,000 surf fan clip.

The thrill almost turned to absolute horror when Martin decided to cross-step across the stage backward, falling into a trap door.

Many things can, of course, go wrong when a surfer falls into a trap door. Shins bruised, or worse, and a collective breath was held until Martin came up allegedly dazed but smiling. “Thank you for catching me, so much. Holy s–t,” he said to the stage hands, likely surf fans, who must have caught him.

He admitted to being a little wobbly, having the “jitters” and feeling “weird” after the incident but did not seem to get overly scared, like the two-time Brazilian surf champ Felipe Toledo, and continued performing.

Bold and brave.

David Lee Scales and I, anyhow, have an ongoing segment about adults falling down on our podcast. When was the last time you tripped or slipped and hit the deck?

You’re amongst friends, here. And longboard/funboard royalty.

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