Desert Point for Beginners: Part 2

The second installment of an epic tale of bravery and daring!  What fate awaits our hero?  Will he get shacked off his pip?  Or will his pip get shoved up his own arse?  Read on... (Or catch up with Part 1 here)

Part 2:

Laying down the gauntlet

Impossibles, despite its name, was a fine learning wave.  It’s a bit of a warm-water Elands– the wave that had convinced me to abandon my sponging days and get to my feet.  Not hollow, but then not shallow and a fine challenge for me at the time.

An Ozzie, Bezza, had become a good friend.  He also liked having me around to split the cost of anything we got up to.  This suited me as well as it forced me to surf where he did – which was often right on the fringe of my ability.  

We spent a few weeks cruising the Bukit on a scooter.  One drove, the other held boards.  We’d also hooked a few longer trips to Canggu and Balian, doing home-stays when there was no accommodation to suit the budget.  

Bezza, waxing up for a Balian session

In the water, I was coming along; surfing longer, not caring about what the bottom was made of anymore.  My first few sessions had left me exhausted after about an hour, and with those curious bruises on your last few ribs.  Now, I was passed that and could surf until the hunger pulled me to shore.  Despite inhaling all food put in front of us, the boardies that had been snug when I stepped off the plane were now hanging off my arse, especially when wet.

“Thinkin’ about heading over to Desert Point.  You in?”  he laid down one evening as we sat on the balcony, the evening glassed off on Padang.

“Jeez, I dunno.  It’s quite heavy, hey?”

“C’mon.  It’s about the best wave in the world.”

“Yah, its super shallow…”

“C’mon.  Come with – come back a hero.”  Not for the first time, I submitted to the superior Ozzie logic.

.A bit of Mavs for your Monday

In trawling the web, for aquatic assault, the usual suspects come up quite frequently.  If the police had to do a line up of waves responsible, you could imagine these thugs standing shoulder to shoulder, trying to look guilty, not giving a damn.  You can guess who they are.  They are the waves you probably, deep down, want to surf the most.  They're the outlaws of waves - the badboys that we're supposed to be scared of, but secretly want.  Here's another mobster about to do want he does best. 

Ion Banner, opening heat at last year's Mavericks contest

Pic lifted from Chemistry Surfboards.  They were quite proud of their boards being ridden by Ion that day.  So what was Bertish riding and where can I get one?

Some Friday Corduroy

Stacked to the horizon.  Maybe, it's not so perfect.  If it was, there would be a gap in the sets to make it out.  There's no gap here, just more and more waves.  Or is it too perfect?  Did someone photoshop in the extra sets?  I'll leave that for you to work out.

P.S.  I had to look up the spelling of corduroy.

pic from here which is a real lag.

GoPros

It's almost christmas!  I'm not really one for christmas cheer.  I've never really seen the point in the Southern Hemisphere when it's high summer.  Ditto for Valentine's day.  In the North - ja, sure - get things deccled up i'm your gloomy climate.  But round here - i'd rather have a salad, a fish braai and wash it down with something frosty.  After having spent the day at the beach.

And as much as christmas is supposed to be all about giving, it's really all about selling.  That's why the global marketing juggernaut swings into overdrive and convinces you to want stuff.  Stuff like GoPros.

I can count at least 4 different things that I want in this picture

I want one... a GoPro, I mean.  The thing about videoing or taking pics of yourself is it isn't so much narcissictic as it is educational.  You get to watch yourself surf, and generally, if not universally, it's a humbling experience.  You get to see how shit you are.  Your swak style, your lame turns, etc.  And you should be hard on yourself, too.  If you look at yourself and think: 'yeah, I'm pretty rad", well, I'll tell you now: you're not.

A GoPro may seem like an expensive accessory, but it can really help your surfing.  It's probably a better investment than a new board.  Or this year's newest suit.  If you're still not convinced, try this video on for size.  And check out http://gopro.com/

Mmm...the froth wants...

Shaun Tomson - let's have that chat

Before there was such a thing as pro-surfing, aerials, a thruster, or even rocker for that matter - there was Shaun Tomson.  AndtThere was the reef at Pipeline.  And there was style.  And the three were never far apart.  Here's a few shots which may go a short distance in defining the man as a surfer.  Two entries.  And two barrels.  Two backhand.  And two forehand.  All awesome. 

Putting his own brand on what it is still the coolest move on your front hand - Soul Arch at Backdoor

Backdoor barrel.  His tuberiding was ahead of its time.  I doubt that barrel riding would be where it is today were it not for Shaun.

Crazy late drop at Pipe.  That's a heavy drop even by today's standards.  And if you look at the previous shot, you can see where board design was at the time.  I'm not sure if this was a thruster, or had rocker (both pioneered by Tomson), but you can be sure the rails aren't nearly as refined as what we have today.

If this shot of Pipe looks familar, it's because you probably had that silouette on a day-glo pair of baggies as a grom.  Backhand, no hands at Pipe.  Probably the hardest move, at one of the world's most challenging waves.  And style so classic they made a logo of it.

And does anyone know where I can get those green shorts with slip and the orange seams?  Would be classic for summer.

Pics lifted from here, here and here.  That ESPN one has a pretty good gallery as well.  Worth wasting a few minutes.

Soledad

I sometimes have the pleasure of telling someone I'm going surfing while there's an furious storm raging outside.  I'm met with a stare of blank incomprehension.  "You surf in the winter?"  Yeah, it's the best time.  More incomprehension.  Shame, I shouldn't take pleasure in their ignorance, and I think we have popular media to blame for it.  Maybe that's changing though.

I think for a lot of people surfing is a beach activity - up there with beachbats, and volleyball.  I'm not mocking either of those, but they're a distraction from lying on a towel tempting a melanoma.  A surf to them is a swim, with an accessory.  Possibly with strains of the beach boys in the background.  Pfft.

One of the things I love the most about surfing is it encourages me to be outdoors in all weather.  If there's waves - go.  If it's early - go.  If it's late - go quickly.  If it's stormy - go warmly.  If it's hot - go in boardies.  Just go, bru.

Here's a pic conveying on of those moods.  It's cold and lonely.  But I'd trade places with that guy if he let me.  His mates couldn't make it, so he went.  You know he's about to go and have a few.  It's not epic, but he's about to tap into some stoke.  And that's something he can get no matter the time of year.

"Soledad, by Jaider Lozano

Picture from 6 feet and perfect.  The name itself warrents being checked out.

We can only imagine

The back hand barrel.  The pig-dog tube ride.  Is there anything sweeter?  To anyone whose ever pulled their rail with one hand and stroked the wall with palm of his other you know the feeling.  That back knee straining with pressure on the inside of your leg. 

I can only imagine what it's like at pipe - the ultimate arena.  I can imagine the frantic jostling with the pack.  The surge as the swell lifts you.  The realisation that it's your wave.  The real realisation that this is your wave - to make or fail.  Then the solitude.  The plunge.  The grab.  The line.  Then it's up to you.  Spat out into the channel?  Or ground up on the reef?

Josh Kerr, feeling it

Photographer Zak Noyle, and pic thanks to Surfer Mag.

Eating it

Sometimes a good beating is just what you need.  Eating is not cheating, but a beating is eating.  It's good for you.

Marco Polo, Waimea shorbreak

For the second week in a row, Waimea claims the title of Time Between Waves weekly beatdowner.  This time the shorey which was many a booger's dream, including mine when we were growing up.  This image, and sequence is a bit of a classic from the mid nineties.  I can remember seeing this sequence in a surf mag as a grom the caption went something along the lines of:  "In the 13th century, Marco Polo, a Venetian, travelled to China and discovered spagetti.  In the 20th century, Marco Polo, a Brazilian, went to Waimea and ate it."

I love the way has has absolutely no chance, but he's so committed.

Pic lifted from here.

Desert Point for Beginners: Part 1

Story time, children!  Come gather round!  Everyone loves a story!  

This is a story I wrote a while back.  Its about mates, travel, surfing, adventure and surfing.  Did I mention it's about surfng?  Because it's about that too. 

Beer coaster wisdom

I held the coaster vertically under my index finger and flicked it to make the disk become a globe. I was in a Kuta bar, bored and alone.  I took the chance to reflect on the last 2 weeks as the coaster danced for its sad creator.

A fortnight ago I was in the Tibetan monastery village of Kecai, part of the first group of westerners to be there in more than a decade.  I remembered squatting on the edge of town one morning, holding the toilet paper under my rain jacket to keep it dry.  That’s how they did it there.  It was a humbling moment.  The girl who was with me wasn’t into such humble ablutions.  She hadn’t been able to appreciate much about the location – its culture, food, or the monk’s quarter where we were stayed.  Things were unravelling between us.  I’d realised this.  I’d thought we were on the same page when I’d broached the subject in a week later in Guangzhou at the end of our trip.  She’d reacted badly and caught her flight in anger.  Chicks...

Fortunately, my brother’s mate was in Hong Kong for business.  He put me up for few nights on the floor of his 5-star hotel and showed me the town with his investment banker buddies.  Steel, glass, lights and the high-life made the Tibet and the girl seem a universe away. 

Three days later via Macau, Singapore and Kuala Lumpar, I’d landed in Bali without a board or much of idea how to use one – especially over shallow coral.  A semi-educated purchase and few sessions at Kuta later and I was building confidence.  Socially though, I was nowhere.   

The coaster lost its rotation and skidded to the surface.  I read the back for the first time.  “It’s a sad man who drinks alone.”  Quite true.

I lifted it and turned around to a table of guys, tossing the coaster in the middle of them.  “Sorry, guys: my coaster is talking to me.”  They read it and laughed, asking me to pull up a chair.  A team of Kiwis, Ozzies, Seppos and Hawaiians, just back from a week in G-land.  They’d scored.  Most were on their way home.  Some were staying on.

“You should pull in at the warung with us.  Best place in Bali.  Impossibles in front, great view into the barrel of Padang and super cheap.”

“Yah, I don’t know if I’m ready for the Bukit yet.  I’m just feeling my feet here at Kuta.” I was met with shameful looks and stifled laughter.

“Coming to Bali and surfing Kuta Beach is like going to brothel and jerking yourself off.”  Point made. Crude, yet valid.  Like only an Ozzie can.  The next day I was outta there.

The view he wasn't lying about.  All this for about R12 a day, Bintang optional.

Continue toPart 2 here.

What's wrong with this picture?

Nothing is wrong in this picture itself, but there's plenty wrong with the situation. Like, why are you looking at it on a computer?  You are not in the picture.  Neither is anyone else for that matter.  It's like that really hot girl who can't get a date because everyone is to shy.  C'mon - this supermodel wants to get to know you.  A wave like this should not go unridden.

Photo: Matt Clark

Pic lifted from here (and apologies if you've seen it already).  But do head on over to clarkography.com.  The bro can wield a lense.

And if you must know i'm off to watch on SA's best underground rippers now.  I would join him the water but, i'm still fighting a sore shoulder.  Was that a gloat and an appeal for sympathy at the same time?  I dunno know.  And I'm not sticking around to find out.

Scoring

Like taking off on the left of the A-frame and steering right for a crazy back door - blasted out with the spit.  Like racing into the parking lot after after work, suiting up after sunset and grabbing a few before dark.  Like asking a stranger in the line-up if he has a watch and learning that you should have been somewhere else 10 minutes ago.  And then rocking up at said event with sand in your hair, salt on your eyelashes and water in your nose.  Sorry, it's late.  I've been busy.

 If there's a wave, we'll surf it.  If there a flat piece of grass, we'll put goals up and kick a ball on it.  A defining image of two sports we love in this country.  Now, if we could only combine the two somehow...

Credit goes to AVG, who I made the pleasure of meeting today.

Calling

It was a Friday afternoon.  Everyone was still at work, but no work was being done.  There was too much else on the go.  There was a good swell arriving overnight and there would be favourable winds to meet it.  Low tide would be an hour after sunrise.  And, like I said, it was a Friday.  With the world just a few clicks on various devices away from me I got busy.

Steve wanted to party and chase tail.  As did Trev and Paul.  Not like the other two surfed anyway.  Dean was starting a big job on Monday – 7 to 7, for 7, so he wanted to party and chase tail.  James was up-country for a wedding.  Piet had to work.  Louis had something on in the morning.  You know… something on.  Other Louis was visiting family for the weekend.  Kris had committed to a party.  Tommy was surfing a comp somewhere else.  Tim had to surf somewhere tame with the lady.  Brando was still away for business.    So was Goose.  Brendan had done his knee in kiteboarding.  G was nursing a sprained foot courtesy of a skateboard.  Jack was in Indo.  Tony was babysitting.  Dane reckoned the Bokke would do better this weekend.  Of all the calls made, his would be the worst.  Ollie was training for a triathlon.  Rob had gone hiking.  Len had flown midweek to work a yacht in the Med.

So, my alarm screeched me awake earlier than a weekday.  I staggered out of bed and flicked on the kettle.  Inhaled some cereal and chucked my gear in the car.  I rolled out of the driveway and pointed my car up the coast.  

It was just me and sounds of the road.  

It was a good day.

On empty

Alone in Bali

How many empty beaches will you walk?  How far will you go to find a wave? Will your tracks be the bread crumbs for other hungry surfers?  Will there be more footprints on your return?  Or will the tide hide your path leaving you to solitude?


This is in Bali, on the Bukit.  There's a wave on this beach and not a hawker, or anyone else, in sight.  It's not a secret spot at all - it's in all the guide books, but no-one bothers to go there.  In weeks of hanging out there, it was only ever our crew. 

Take a walk, follow the path less trodden and you will find your treasure.  Its not about finding the most epic wave.  It's about finding yourself alone in one of the most crowded places on earth.  That in itself, is something to be treasured.

A cheeky late drop into the barrel

sjoh - busy day not surfing.

So this post is that late late drop that you stick in the pocket you still can't work out how.  It's a last wave on the hooter to clinch the heat - well done Travis!  It's the last spot that you check and against all judgement, it's firing.  It's rocking up at the bottle store after an epic session and slipping in as they close the door.  It's the last space at the front of the parking lot giving a panoramic of the beach from the comfort of your cabby.  It's that only pair of boardies on sale that you dig, and it's your size.  It's the lonely beer in the otherwise empty fridge.  I could go on.

Actually, I can't.

surfer: Alex Gray, Photographer: Bryce Lowe-White

Cool like the girls at school, walking single file, hands behind your back, neatly down the line.  We only wish we could be that casual in the barrel.

Source: Surfermag

Monday Beatdown

That moment when you know you're not going to make it.  And your only thought is: How bad is this going to be?

Flea, practising his warm water pin drop at not-small Waimeia.  I'm sure he's no stranger to amazing beatings, having surfed Mavs for most of his life.  But a beating is still a beating.

As envious as we may be of the hellmen, we must remember that it's not all big drops into perfectly arced hi speed bottom turns.  there's a lot of pain involved.  The road to big wave stardom is paved with near drowning experiences.  that's why you've to really want.  Flea - even in that moment up there - really wants it.

Pic from here. Image by Jeremiah Klein.

Perfect Friday

Perfect.  Without flaw. 

Not a drop out of place.  Not a speck of sediment in suspsension.  So perfect it looks like its a computer animated image.  Dont' you love the shadow created by the white water?  The water looks like it comes from a swimming pool.  A very well maintained pool.  I could go on, but I think I'll let the image do the talking.

One question:  Would a surfer on this wave make it better or worse?  Would it add to the shot or detract from the wave?  I'm going with unridden, undefiled.  A wave so perfect it's reserved for the Gods.  To surf it, is blasphemy.  Or, at the very least - you must prove yourself worthy before you set your rail upon these perfect curves.  Until such time, you will be struck down should you dare disturb this!  Hear the Word of Surf Lord.

Check out more of Dave Sparkle's work (his real name, apparently) here.  He's got a whole sequence of this wave.  All those useless clicks you're going to make today - make a few matter instead.

One Wave

I wrote this a while back and then left it to gather dust.  Today, I dusted it off and had another look.  It's a bit hazy in my mind, but it still chimes like the late afternoon trade winds waking you from your afternoon siesta.  Here goes:

One Wave

One wave does make a session.  This gets proven over and over again.  The funny thing is the wave doesn’t even have to be yours.

This has been a pretty dismal summer in the Cape, but we can’t complain.  Last year was definitely more than a double scoop of summer juice.  A good day did come along in mid-December.  The wind went to blow somewhere else, and little pulse of swell timed its arrival.  I was surfing a beachie down South.  There were two of us on a peak, with a few more scattered on some banks nearby.  The waves were good, not great.  Glassy, 3 foot, a bit fat and sectioning here and there.  I’d just caught a long one that held up and had paddled back to the take off spot.  This was actually further up the peak than the other guy, but I knew a set wave would start breaking from there.  A few moments later one did and I turned for it and gave a few strokes.  So did the other guy.  The wave picked me up and I was putting my hands on the rails as the inside man turned to look.  I just nodded at him and pushed the tail down to brake and watched him drop and glide off down the silky wall.  Cool, I was thinking, that was a good wave.  I’d just had one and so it was his wave anyway.  I didn’t think much more of it and started the wait for the next set.

It must have also held up as it took him a while to paddle back up to the top.  He stroked up next me and in a French accent began thanking me profusely, saying how nice that was to give me a wave.  I just shrugged, saying that with two of us out, it kind of made sense to share waves, and going one for one, that was probably his.  He was adamant, though.  That sort of generousity was very rare for him.  He was stoked. It rubbed off.  We carried on like that for a while, just trading waves.  It was a good session in the end.  The waves weren’t great but I got out the water stoked.  It could have been otherwise – I could have had one extra wave, and none of the good vibes that came from sacrificing it.

Looking back, that was the wave that made the session for him, and in turn, for me.  Usually, we surf, we take waves, we get stoked.  But there, I gave a wave, and spread the stoke, and it came back to me.  That was a new lesson reinforced on an old one.  One wave can make a session – and it doesn’t even have to be your own.

This pic has nothing to do with the story - except its mine.  And I dig it

Unridden Wednesday

The more perceptive of you may have realised that I originally promised Big Wednesday but have gone back on that now.  Yes, sorry for those of you who were looking forward to the big and girthy.
2 reasons:
1 - there are only so many mind blowing big wave images, and we've probably seen the best examples already.
2 - there are so many sick pictures out there that didn't have a category to fit in to.
So, I give you Unridden Wednesday - a day when either a wave will stand alone unridden, or there may be no wave at all.  There are so many surf related pictures out there that don't display a wave, much less a rider.  But they do contain a subject that you will recognise immediately: Stoke.  And that's what it's all about.  

Photographer: Bryce Lowe

 

You' ve had many moments like this.  You know it's about to get dark.  You know the session is about to end.  You can feel the salt crystallising on your soon to be drying skin.  You can almost taste the chilled beer. All you want is one last good wave to call it a day.  Your mates are on the beach.  Trying to watch you in the half-light.  You want to put on a show for them.  You want them to stand rapt as your shadow tears through the dusk.  Just a silouette of majesty against the bruised screen of a wave.  You want them to nod in your direction in the parking lot and say 'that last wave of yours was good'.  And the darkness hides the flash of your smile. You know it was.

Thanks to Surfer mag for the image.

Tuesday Tube

Like that first set wave reeling down the point: get scratching for the shoulder, pal.  here it comes.

I'm not naming this spot, but if you hang in Cape Town, you probably know where it is. And probably have the same love/hate relationship that I do with this wave.  From me, it's all love.  All I want is to be held in her spinning embrace before being gently released onto her delicately curved shoulder.  All she wants to do is break my boards, break my bones, and break my resolve.  She want's to bitch slap me through the face with multiple sets.  She wants to cast me of her luscious lip and shove me into the sand.  She wants send me whimpering to the beach so she can watch me walk away in shame.  But I won't.  I will love her without ever being loved back.  Such is her beauty.

Jarrad Howse - feeling the love

Pic from AVG.  He loves the place to and does some great work down there.

Chaos and order

I'm not sure if I heard this somewhere before.  I may have read it in a book.  It deserves to be brought up though.  A little thought for the day.  Something to contemplate when you're being knocked around by the side-wash down at the corner of your local beach.

From Chaos

Comes Order

 

From Order

Comes Chaos

 

Photo sources: here, here, here and here

Monday Beat-down

And you thought you had a rough weekend.

 

Rudi Schwartz, Shippies - of course.  photo: andrew chisholm

Check out the full sequence here.  Its guaranteed to make you wince.

Friday Perfection

Introducing the start of a daily image to keep you frothing.  Every day will have a theme that's going to look something like this:
Beat-down Monday: and you thought you were having a bad day
Tuesday Tube: it alliterates. Do you need a better reason?
Big Wednesday: big mounds on hump day (promise never to use the term 'hump day' again)
Local Phuza Thursday:  Featuring a Saffa doing us proud at home or abroad, or one of Mzansi's finest waves breaking somewhere close - just for you.
Perfect Fridays: End the week with something to get you amped - why not?

So here goes: First up is Perfect Friday.  And like you've spent the week wishing you could be somewhere else, look at this and imagine you were here.

Image lifted from here, but the credit obviously goes to Rip Curl.  I can remember these images of The Search when I was growing up as grom.  They were probably what got me hooked in the beginning.  It's more than just perfect, uncrowded waves with your mates.  It's the adventure that comes with it.  The journey, the discovery, the uncovered secret.

As with all their pics, they go unnamed and unlocated.  Where is this? Peru? Chile?  Maybe the Sahara somewhere - but as left, I doubt it.  Keep guessing.  Stop dreaming.  Go find it.

And something to think about every Friday:  Is this perfect?  Is this what you think is a perfect line-up?  It is to me, that's why it made the cut.  But, for you, maybe not.  Feel free to submit your perfect wave and tell me what you think is the ultimate wave.

Until Monday, hav a gud wan.  For me, no waves (claiming injury) unless you include sound waves.

A voice of reason

Those of you who know me, or have read some of my work, know that I am firmly in the camp that disagrees with the notion that sharks are being conditioned by chumming and cage-diving to be more aggressive to humans.  I seem to be in the minority amongst surfers, but I'm ok with that.  I think having had a long sceptical look at the situation, I have a qualified opinion on the matter.  But, I'm not nearly as qualified as Alison Kock - head researcher at the Save Our Seas Foundation.

In this article she takes a calm look at the recent attacks and sees what we can learn about them.  It makes a pleasant change from all the venom being spat on online forums like this one.  And if you've had a look at news24 comments section - you know you really should be working if you do - then you can see even more angry, uninformed people mouthing off.  I'm not linking it, because if you want to really want to waste your time, you can do it without my help.

Do take the time to read Alison's article.  She says it better than I ever could.  The other reason you should read it is that the more you learn about about sharks, the less you fear them. 

In signing off have a look at this picture and decide on a caption for it.

Should it be: Misunderstood marine majesty moves misdirected minds or Malicious monster masticates and menaces mankind?

And i'm only doing this because its timely - more stoke from now on - promise.

Music appreciation: The Presets, Girl and the Sea

Do you remember that closing sequence from Young Guns 2. You do? Sweet, then you'll remember how sick that song was. Oh, you don't? Well, don't worry, because I do and have it for you right here.



It's not a song about surfing, and the video is a bit creepy, but it just gets me amped and I'm sure we can all relate to the lyrics:

Tonight the hills are watching her as she runs towards the sea.
Yeah, she runs so she'll be free.
And of all the friends and enemies she's made along the way,
They are nowhere in her thoughts as she dives beneath the waves.

When we surf, there are those times when nothing else matters. All your problems and thoughts are left on the shore. And the only thing in your head is the next wave. Like the title of this blog: your life is just a series of moments between waves. And when you're on a wave, absolutely nothing else matters.

a taste of things to come

One of my best things about surfing is it enables me to look forward to every season.

Autumn, with long mild days, and long period groundswells, is probably my best. But, then winter arrives and brings the storms, biting cold, wearing uggs beanies and hoodies and finishing sessions in the dark. Spring, I maintain is a stuttering between winter and summer, unlike the way autumn slides. So spring is a bit of both.

And summer, well, summer is, much to the confusion of the non-surfer, probably my least favourite time for surfing itself, but everything else that comes with it is just so peachy, you can't not dig it. Chilling on the beach, whipping out the fish's and alaia's and longboards and stuff, early dawnies before work and then having a full work day with that post surf buzz, the occasional boardies session - a real treat for us Kaapies, rolling up at the braai with the same salty boardies and sand between your toes and gooiing it late into the night. Oh, yes. Summer. Here's to the season of winds and lack of swell!Thank you to the very lense competent Robyn Stanford for the pic.

some high-brow reading

There probably aren't too many surfers out there who read The Economist. Although, the way a lot of surfers are professionals, and The Economist has a weekly readership of over a million, there may be a bit of an overlap. I get a kick out buying a Zigzag and The Economist when I fly and wonder how many people think I'm weird when they notice it.

So why am I writing about The Economist? Well, because not just its not just dry politics and finance. They've actually got a few pieces online that relate to us.

This talks about surfers and the longevity of their careers and gives a few good reasons for it. It also compares surfing and golf which is bit of a past time for me - mostly about why golf is so more kuck than surfing. It does use the word gnarly - which is something I try to avoid - unless its a proper savage angry wave and reckons we use emoticons in our emails. Pffft. I don't, and neither should you. It's bang on when it talks about the required experience of reading waves and that board technology hasn't changed in far too long. It does seem to imply that Jet-skis can help more geriatric surfers catch waves, which is a trend that I shudder went thinking about. A good read.

Then there's this one. Not about surfing directly, but with interesting themes about the marketing of action sports (can we get a better word for it, please) which is also a theme i've been exploring recently. And the video is sick!

Enjoy it. And if you're into other sports as well, Game Theory is probably a blog you want to check out from time to time.

Back on the horse

Ok - so its been almost 2 years since I laid down this blog and never got it off the ground properly. So let's do that again. More success this time, lets hope.

Let's just say it's been an epic winter - august cooked and I got to surf some epic waves up and down the coast. I haven't left the Cape to surf in four years now (OK, if did have a session in Ireland about 3 years ago) and I've been surfing some of the best waves of my life. I've also notched up a few virgin sessions recently at some very good spots. Just goes to show what's out there if you take the time to saddle up and go. We did a head count of new waves surfed and I forget the tally, but it was in double figures.

My most memorable wave recently was a front hand barrel at one of favourite local beaches. (I'm going to keep names to a minimum on this page.) It was a late drop, a stall into the pocket before bursting out on to the shoulder a few seconds later. I caught 4 waves that entire session - the other 3 were crap, and then I snapped my board. I didn't care. Nothing could take away the pleasure of coming out cleanly on that pit. So stoked. It was weeks ago and I still get stoked thinking about.

The bad news about me is i'm battling a recurring shoulder injury. But this blog isn't about me, or it shouldn't be at least. We'll keep narcissism to a minimum here. This blog is about being stoked on surfing. I'm going to do my best to keep that stoke flowing like that rip out the corner which gets to the backline with dry hair. Yeah, like that stoked.