A re-issue, and re-edit, of a 2011 classic…

Here, a trip to Teahupoo in the US summer of 2011 with John John and his bothers, Nathan and Ivan, and the Maui jibber-and-big-waver Albee Layer.

It is instructive to watch, because almost a decade later, there’s still only a few of his tour peers who can, like John, stand there in the pulpit chanting amen.

Can you imagine how John was feeling, in his convalescence back home on the North Shore, watching the best waves at a contest there since 2014?

Oh he must be like a bored cat in a cage, looking at clothes in catalogues and gazing out the front window, his hair slowly turning red…

Come ride the Namibian rickshaw! It's big, daddy…

In his latest vlog, Brett Barley, a gifted surfer and genial YouTube host, takes the viewer on a comprehensive tour, in and out of the water, of Namibia’s Skeleton Bay.

We begin in New York, although Brett has flown from North Carolina, wind our way to Walvis Bay, Namibia, hire a four-wheel-drive, rescue a seal from the graveyard and, eventually, join Skeleton Bay’s circus act along with various noted surfers from South Africa, the USA and so on.

It gets big.

Six-to-eight, maybe bigger.

It’s like a fish stew of sand and surfboards, a green batter enfolding the rider.

The sweetest puckering from soon-to-be WSL rookie of the year…

Seth Moniz, the tour rookie and son of eighties Hawaiian shredder Tony Moniz, has loosed a short film that while not breaking down the door, as they say, will certainly culminate in a bruised shoulder.

When Seth surfs it’s as though tigers are loose inside his apartment, a riot of crashing glass and overturned furniture. From the much vaunted back-flip at Waco to the debris he leaves at Pipeline, Seth carries the torch of his distant lineage and other worldly specimens, Johnny-Boy, his Dad, the Ho’s, Dane Kealoha.

A delight to watch.

Surfing so complete your eyes will glaze and you'll sway on your legs as though you've been hit over the head with a mallet…

I doubt any middle-aged body could stand up to the incredibly violent gymnastics Jack-Jack Robinson performs in this three-minute clip which was filmed around Australia’s south-west coastline.

There are some performers, rare as blue butterflies, who carry around their own lightning. It has nothing to do with the sponsor stickers on their boards or how many contests they’ve won or how many times they’ve surfed Pipeline, although all that helps.

When the camera hits them, sock.

Take the slider to thirty-three seconds.

I’ve yet to receive official confirmation from Chris Coté but, for now, I’m calling this it a 540 oop.

Swallow it all in.

Glories and revelations…

I can imagine Mason Ho as a tent-show preacher, talking on the glories and revelations of the tube. Mason, who will turn thirty-one in three weeks and who is part-Chinese, part-Hawaiian, part-Euro American, is filmed, here, in Bali, going this way and that at Keramas and Uluwatu.

Mason has a very special magic, one that even Kelly Slater, who makes a brief cameo at Keramas, cannot replicate.

As Kolohe Andino’s dad, Dino, once told me, “He’s hot-dogging as big as Pipe breaks. He’s dragging his ass on 12-footers, slamming his shoulder down on a bottom turn, and slaloming the whole side of his body into the wave as he takes off on Second Reef. He’s got an uncanny ability to ride the tube. He knows how to control his speed and the size of the wave doesn’t matter. He’s not intimidated. He’s slowing down when everyone else is running for the hills. He connects with the wave, controls the wave. It’s always been happening, but now he’s taken it to a whole other level. His tube-riding ability is out of control. It’s stupid. John John is really gnarly, but I don’t think he’s as fun looking as Mason’s shucking and jiving. He looks down, looks back, does all that shit. He’s paying tribute to his dad on every wave.”

In this five-minute film, which was made by his best friend Rory Pringle, Mason casts his magic like a fishing line. And it’s a spell no man or woman can resist.

If you want to ride tubes better, it’s essential.