Harry Bryant, Marshall Islands, Natural Selection.
As for the wave, this righthander made lightly famous by Kelly Slater back in 2012, Harry says it’s “one of the best waves in the world on its day. I haven’t been to many waves like that. You can’t compare it. Teahupoo is the closest thing." | Photo: Ryan Miller

Harry Bryant says secret wave in Natural Selection has potential to be a “kilometre-long Teahupoo”

"On a perfect day, offshore winds, good swell direction, you could easily get the longest tube of your life.”

Earlier today and after a flurry of ado since its taping into Micronesia around one month ago, the Travis Rice-engineered surf contest Natural Selection premiered on YouTube. 

You might’ve heard of Trav’s Natural Selection, a freeride snowboard contest designed in 2021 to take athletes away from snow parks and into raw backcountry environments. 

The concept, as the name suggests, draws from Charles Darwin’s “survival of the fittest,” where competitors must adapt to unpredictable and wildly rugged terrain to succeed. 

Natural Selection now also includes mountain bikes, skiing and, here we are, surf. If you watched you might’ve been left in a couple of minds about it all. 

The lack of star power hurt, this thing has Kelly Slater written all over it, the wave is a hell of a thing, sure, but it’s open to wind and impossible to shoot unless you’ve got a Larry Haynes (RIP) or a Dan Russo shooting wide-angle while the usual land guys, Miller and so on, zoom around on the back of skis. 

As it was, the judges, the film crew, were on a boat skippered by the great Martin Daly, read all about Marty here, and here, and here, flying in and out of the channel, Teahupoo esque. 

At one point a smaller support boat coming in to the stern of the film vessel was lifted up by the ten feet of swell and pushed a hole into its hull. The contest was put on hold, briefly, Marty threw on his tank, dived into the drink and epoxied up the hole. 

You’ll find out the winner in two days, Feb 20, USA time, but in the meantime, I interviewed Harry Bryant, a twenty-eight-year-old Australian with a bushy hairdo and albino moustache that twinkle like glitter on a burlesque dancer’s corset.

There is a recklessness to Harry’s surfing as well as drama and attitude.

The wave, he says, although not in so many words, is like being rimmed by a trannie who might be your uncle. Danger mixed with a terrific excitement, a wild ol what-if.

Harry says he heard about Natural Selection while he was hovering around the North Shore in December, readying for the Vans Pipe Masters. He says he’d never really tuned into the snowboarding Natural Selection event but was pricked curious “to see if someone other than the surfers, the WSL or Stab could run a surf event that was more exciting.”

Did they? 

“Uh, I reckon, you know what, extremely tough circumstances to run an event smoothly the first time,” he says. “I reckon the actual format will get smoothed out over time. This first one, we were all the way out in the Pacific trying to mould the format around the waves. It’s a pretty gnarly and tough zone to run an event: off a boat, on a wave in the middle of the Pacific. Pretty gnarly.” 

The problem, apart from the wind, was getting the judges and camera crew in the zone to see and record the magnitude of the rides. 

“Martin’s one of the best captains and super aware of his surroundings but he wasn’t anchored, just sitting in the channel, and accelerating and reversing to get the judges in the spot to see every wave. All the cameras were on the same boat so if the boat wasn’t in the spot then there was no footage and the judges couldn’t tell what was going on.” 

He describes Marty’s feat of repairing his damaged boat as “fucking crazy. He had an epoxy gun and was able to seal the boat while submerged underwater with fucking twelve-foot waves breaking around him.”

As for the wave, this righthander made lightly famous by Kelly Slater back in 2012, Harry says it’s “one of the best waves in the world on its day. I’d love to see it in all-time conditions. It’s definitely prone to swell but when you’re prone to swell you’re prone to all the elements. I saw the Florence lads went there a couple months prior and it looked similar: super windy, too big, real ledgy, deep water, super hard to surf. It’s really hard to navigate, to know what to  ride. I haven’t been to many waves like that. You can’t compare it. Teahupoo is the closest thing. It’s so ledgy. It comes out of deep water and this is a similar takeoff to Chopes but you’re locking into a kilometre of a long, long stretch of reef. On a perfect say, offshore winds, good swell direction, you could easily get the longest tube of your life.” 

 

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Size-wise, although it may not be apparent in the vision accompanying the event, he says it was twelve-to-fifteen foot on the sets. 

“I pulled back on one wave that genuinely petrified me. I’ve been hunting slabs for the last five years and have gone to some pretty gnarly waves, pushing myself in bigger slabby waves. There it gets to a point where it’s too big to paddle, too slabby, moving too quick and so steep. Everyone was stumped on the conditions. Trying to get a wave and successfully ride it and trying to hold an event and get a few waves in a heat, it was hard to comprehend.”

Haz says he rode a six-foot Timmy Patterson, the only board he could access as his others were buried under a ton of board bags on the boat. He says he was impressed by everyone who came on the trip. Everyone had a swing, as they say. 

“For how gnarly it is, no one had been there, no one had competitive edge. We were in the same boat , literally, paddling out and not knowing what the wave was going to do, what to do, how to approach it. Everyone was going really hard. Eithan and Al had a heat together that was sick to watch, one of the sickest heats I’ve ever seen in front of my eyes. When that style of surfing goes down it’s pretty special to watch.” 

Although no surfers were gravely wounded during the event, Soli got a few stitches in his wing but that was about it, the photographer Jason Murray had his leg destroyed some days later while filming from the tinny. The boat flew over a wave and he landed awkwardly, snapping his ankle, which would require surgery to secure it with bolts, and ripping the MCL in his knee. 

“The whole thing was dramatic, to tell the truth,” says Harry. 

Tune in on Feb 20, US, Feb 21, Aus, for Finals Day.

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Watch Party: Chat Natural Selection Surf Day 1 with friends and foes!

Opine at will.

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Noah Beschen (pictured) in action. Photo: Ryan Miller
Noah Beschen (pictured) in action. Photo: Ryan Miller

Surf fans smack hungry lips as Natural Selection Surf contest goes live!

The un-Abu Dhabi.

The surf fan, beleaguered from years of abuse, gazed at our snowboarding brethren with starving eyes, in 2008, as living legend Travis Rice launched an almost perfect event format in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Majestic terrain, iconic riders, a show for the core as opposed to some imaginary audience.

Natural Selection was honed, over the years, becoming a sort of tour in 2021, moving to Alaska and Revelstoke, Rice searching high and low for lines that would push the art to its limits.

And surf fans, sorrowful, gazed from a distance before turning teary eyes back to Kelly Slater’s Surf Ranch and its Surf Ranch Pro.

Then some rumblings.

I likely heard them first, as my wife is Rice’s longtime agent, but could not truly believe. Natural Selection entering surf? The chitter-chatter grew louder, over the next few months, real plans coming together featuring the renowned wave-hunting pirate Martin Daly and a spot he discovered in Micronesia.

Gaping blue barrels, sharp ouchy reef.

Filipe Toledo’s worst nightmare.

And then rumblings became reality.

Unlike World Surf League events, “Mother Nature is the lead character” and the supporting artists cast around her.

On the men’s side, Mikey February (South Africa), Victor Bernardo (Brazil), Kauli Vaast (Tahiti), Noah Beschen (Hawaii), Eithan Osborne (USA), Harry Bryant (Australia), Al Cleland Jr. (Mexico), and Soli Bailey (Australia). The women’s featured Coco Ho (Hawaii), Milla Brown (Australia), Anne Dos Santos (Brazil) and Kirra Pinkerton (USA).

The action will unfold over two days, the first going live in a few short hours.

Watch here at 12:00 PM PST.

Or here also at 12:00 PM PST.

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Italo Ferreira wins Surf Abu Dhabi Pro
"As he entered the water he became Him, baptised by appropriately filtered and salinated water. His arms were spread and Christ-like. He was touched by stadium lighting as if by heaven."

“Brazilian Jesus” Italo Ferreira hailed as saviour of controversial Abu Dhabi wave pool contest!

"His turns, viewed in slo-mo, were a study in ecstatic wavepool mastery. His board was a piston, the wave the cylinder."

The day rose bright and clear in the Scottish Highlands and the clocks were striking thirteen.

There were no laboured breaths of slaves of any kind. No particulates of anything in particular in the air. Only the iced dawn and gin-clear rivers tumbling from ancient summit to verdant glen.

Somehow, I didn’t feel like staying indoors and watching the Abu Dhabi Pro. Instead, I hiked to a bothy with the kids and dog, smashing ice and frolicking in the winter sun.

But I am nothing if not a slave to pro surfing.

So I caught up on the day’s action later that evening in the back of my van.

I was primed for another takedown. Quill sharped, ink dabbed. Lightly sparkled.

But then something changed. Some invisible bulk within me shifted, stirred.

And I realised I was actually enjoying the wavepool. The repetition and routines. The psyches and coaching strategies.

The passion and pageantry!

All raw and fleshy and splayed on imported Siberian Larch decking.

Was it Rio Waida, growing before our eyes, that did it?

It could’ve been Jack Robinson stalking artificial waves like a sixteen-pointer stag who’s had his fill from the herd.

Certainly, it was Italo Ferreira, becoming saved and saviour all in one day.

But it had not begun with promise. A sandstorm blew from desert to pool, turning everything into a Mad Maxian nightmare, obscuring even AJ McCord’s teeth and blowing Ethan Ewing’s fringe to shit.

The BG comment section remained lightly trafficked.

But, believe me reader, you missed things.

Ferreira was a burning ball of energy. “You sleep and you go to gym and you stretch and you eat and you sleep again and you watch movie and you waiting for your heat…” he lamented breathlessly following his quarter final victory over Igarashi.

He was bored of the downtime, he said. He needed more. More waves. More needles for a thirsty vein.

This restlessness is why we must love Italo, why we need him. He’s a fascinating case study in what happens when surfing consumes you. Of what happens when you birth a beast.

What must you sacrifice? What does it take to execute carbon copies of gigantic, waterdroplet-perfect alley-oops in the heat of competition?

His turns, viewed in slo-mo, were a study in ecstatic wavepool mastery. His board was a piston, the wave the cylinder. The compression came from the depths of his soul, transmuted by granite thighs.

Part man, part machine. A surfer to lead us into the age of the android, complete with Action Man beard and hair.

Jack Robinson, by contrast, was pure, throbbing humanity.

He elicited some discussion of shamanism.

“How old does one have to be to be considered a shaman?” Evans mused.

There’s a guy in the place who’s got a bittersweet face, And he goes by the name of Paul Evans. His friends call him ‘Ezer and E is the main geezer, And E vibes up the place like no other man could, E’s refined, E’s sublime, E makes you feel fine, Though very much maligned and misunderstood, But if you know ‘Ezer E’s a real crowd pleaser, E’s ever so good – he’s Paul Evans.

It was the first but not last segue into the mysteries of human consciousness on Finals’ Day for Evans.

Flick tittered some appropriation of language in response.

It was ironic appreciating the beauty of Jack Robinson’s surfing in a pool. But it became a parade ring. The unbackable favourite among his moves was an airdrop from lip to stall to barrel. A move carried out with the finesse of man brushing the mane of a stallion.

It’s true, I hear you cry. Italo Ferreira cannot surf like this. Will not surf like this.

And if this is the surfing you admire then you will assert that wavepool competition is worthless.

You will doubtless also admire the surfing of Ethan Ewing.

But at least Jack Robinson puts a hand on your throat, lightly choking. Ethan Ewing performs only gentle and insistent lovemaking in a pool, and the eyes begin to glaze after a while.

Ewing could not reach his vinegar strokes against Rio Waida, the young Indonesian surfer blossoming before our eyes.

Quite aside from his increased physicality, added muscle, and flex of his linguistic skills, Waida is establishing himself as a contender on this Tour, as unlikely as that may seem.

A clear example of “not having an ego being the path to increased learning” dared Evans, cobbling together something from a Sam Harris podcast.

Almost as soon as the words left Evans’ mouth, Waida hung him out to dry by exhibiting wild claims and gestures that, dareisay, belied a little…ego?

“It’s a pool party,” Waida beamed to AJ McCord post victory. “Everybody drinking, cruising…look at this beautiful place!”

Waida was sold. His ego had been prised from his roots by a series of mechanised waves, six-star hospitality, and the availability of high-class Eastern European escorts.

“Rio Waida show, more coming,” he urged AJ.

 

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And with that, Evans’ cursory research and cultural assumptions were dead in the water.

Besides, the counterpoint to humility and lack of ego leading to fulfillment is this: a giant fucking ego eats everyone alive.

Italo Ferreira gnashed his jaws on the decking, just waiting to be released. He was a pitbull on a chain. “You’re stronger!” his coach affirmed. “Power!”

The fluffing worked. Italo vaulted into next level flow against Robinson.

It was hard not to picture, somewhere, in simmering bloodlust, Gabriel Medina looking on, nodding thirstily.

The sun slunk low in the desert sky as the final drew near. It was ominous, somehow. Like we’d been flying too close.

Italo, still high, needed just his first two waves.

And with that, Brazilian Jesus was born.

A flag was draped over his shoulders. He was possessed in celebration. He chanted in tongues, head tilted skyward.

 

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“It’s for him. It’s the only way,” he said, pointing to a message on his board that read “Jesus Cristo é o senhor”.

And as he entered the water he became him, baptised by appropriately filtered and salinated water. His arms were spread and Christ-like. He was touched by stadium lighting as if by heaven.

He skipped gaily to the ski to ride his final unnecessary waves.

God (or cloud-seeding technology) sent raindrops that prickled the surface of the pool. And again, Ferreira was lost in prayer, arms aloft to the sky and fingers spread wide with wonder.

I began to wonder if I’d missed some critical juncture of the event.

Was Italo Ferreira really just the Abu Dhabi Pro Champion?

He walked on water (switch stance) on his final wave, and his acolytes bayed loudly from the decking.

It was the singularity and the second coming all wrapped into one.

He had won the victory over himself. He loved Brazilian Jesus.

He was Brazilian Jesus.

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Tyler Wright's Progress Pride flag (left shoulder) absent in Abu Dhabi.
Tyler Wright's Progress Pride flag (left shoulder) absent in Abu Dhabi.

World Surf League accused of abject hypocrisy after flags scrubbed from Surf Abu Dhabi Pro jerseys

Brazilian flag gone. Pride flag gone too.

There were many things missing from the just-wrapped Surf Abu Dhabi Pro including, but not limited to, the ocean, drama, Filipe Toledo’s sportsmanship, interest, stakes, joy and the flags that have adorned the shoulders of championship tour surfers’ jerseys for the past five years.

But who could forget the latter’s exciting addition certainly dreamt up in a fevered state of creative inspiration. Italo Ferreira’s number 15 gilded with two Brazilian flags, John John Florence’s 12 with two Hawaiian state flags, Kanoa Igarashi’s 50 with two Japanese flags and Tyler Wright’s 23 featuring Australian flag on left and the Progress Pride flag on the right.

Wright debuted the nod to her identity during the 2021 season, declaring, “Today for me feels like another step in my realisation of my true and authentic self. As a proud bisexual woman of the LGBTQ+ community as well as an Australian, I’m delighted to be able to represent both this year on my competition jersey. The number change to 23 represents, to me, a new phase of my career and my growth as a human. The Progress pride flag represents a love that opened my eyes more to who I really am.”

The World Surf League adding that it, “proudly supports Tyler in using her platform as a World Champion and a proud member of the LGBTQ+ community to express a message of inclusivity. We believe surfing is for everyone and are incredibly proud of our athletes.”

But all gone in Abu Dhabi.

Pride flag replaced by phrase "Surf Abu Dhabi Pro"
Pride flag replaced by phrase “Surf Abu Dhabi Pro”

The question bouncing through the surf fan ranks: Do the United Arab Emirates powers-that-be dislike all flags or just proud flags?

And the second question: Is the World Surf League amongst the most spineless governing bodies on earth, willing to dance upon any of its trumpeted values for basically free?

Or maybe the World Surf League has decided nationalism and identity are no longer vital in professional surfing lineups.

Buy Tyler Wright’s Progress Pride/Southern Cross jersey here just in case it’s the latter.

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