Rob cutting back...somewhere

Not saying where this is.  Close friends may have some idea.  It was pretty epic that day.  If you don't believe me, here's another shot.

The good news is there's plenty swell on the way for the next few days, so expect some updates on that.  The more perceptive of you may have noticed I'm getting behind a camera more frequently these days and it is impacting on my surf time, but it's a worthwile trade off.  More to share and hopefully this gig can actually lead to somewhere.

Looking forward to a few cooking days round here.

SA Champs Gallery

Shane Thorne

Some pics from the 1st 3 days of the SA Champs.  I didn't get the camera out on the last day, so these are all from Long Beach.  If you want to read my take on proceedings, it's over at Zigzag

Stuart Barnes in near flight

That onshore for the opening days

Bromdog: determined strides

Tanika Hoffman, Heidi Palmboom and Heather Klug before their round 1 heat.  I like this shot.  The background is awfully overexposed but it works.  I like the colours against the near white background and Heather's determined stride versus the others relaxed conversation. 

Klee Strachan.  Klee fell to an ankle injury.  he was looking good until then.

Klee again.  I was trying to line up a surfer and the cliffs in the background.  this was as well as I managed.

A free surfer doing the pebbles shuffle

Sean Holmes, because Sean Holmes is awesome

A tale of snaking and forked tongues

So, I hit J-Bay over the weekend.  It's only my third time there and my first to get macking Supers.  Woo-hoo!  I'm also not a guy who is used to crowds, and Supers with it's hardcore crew of locals and even more tension ratcheted up with the weekend blow-ins like yours truly, was always going to be a challenge.

So, I paddled out on my first session on Saturday evening.  It was shoulder high.  Not all time, but still very good.  This is Supertubes, after all.  I sat down the point and tried to pick up a few scraps with limited success.  It got later, the crowd thinned, I got a bit frustrated and eventually decided to go sit higher up and wait until something came my way.  The crowd thinned some more, the sun set, and eventually, I was sitting in position as a good one swung in.  I scratched and got to my feet and turned around the foam that was already racing away as another surfer dropped in.  I shouted loud enough to hear, but not too loud to be overly aggressive - you never know who you're talking to out there.  Either way, he didn't react and just carried on.  Partly because, I was still out on the foam ball and not quite guaranteed making it to the face, and partly because I didn't know if he was a local there, and admittedly, partly because he was helluva good and I was in an awesome position to just watch, I didn't open my mouth again.  Eventually, I popped round the foam and onto the face just as he was arcing back.  He saw me and kicked off immediately.  I carried on down for a few more sections - this is Supers, I remind you again - and kicked out eventually after what was still a very good wave, even if only half ridden by my poor standards.  One good wave still makes a session.

I paddled in, got changed and drove up to Ubuntu backpackers to check in.  As I was putting my boards in the racks, another dripping, suited surfer arrived and racked his.  I recognised the black rails, and three hexagons as the same board I had watched so closely tear that last wave apart most of the way down the point.  Two Merrick Black Beautys out there so late?  Too much coincidence.  "Hey, bru," I say with a smile "were you the guy who dropped in on me on that last wave?" He returns the smile, claps a wet hand on shoulder and apologises with a French accent.  He didn't think I'd make it round.  Neither did I, I reply.  We both literally laugh it off.

Not too much later, chinging lagers, swaaiing zol, swapping war stories.and deriding Bayern Munich's lack of closing.  We're mates.  Bonded by coincidence and misjudgement.  I think how different the situation may have been if I'd behaved dickishly.  I could have been pissed off, tuned him in the water, or made a tit of myself.  It would have immediately backfired, as I would then have been the outsider, the dick, the poes here at Ubuntu - the name showing it's significance. 

Another board clogs the early morning line-up

The next morning I'm back out there.  It's picked up, easily overhead and the 50 strong crew is frothing.  I'm trying the same tactic as yesterday.  Sit almost at the top.  And wait patiently.  Something will come my way and as yesterday proved again - it only takes one wave.  Eventually it comes and I fly down the wall for ever and ever.  Legs burning as I drive and swoop across the legendary shoulder.  I kick out and wonder if I can get another one as good today.  I take the long paddle back up.

I'm sitting there again when an older guy, grey haired and goateed sitting a bit further up bellows to no-one in particular, but for everyone in general "The next fucker to paddle past here is going to get FUCKED UP!"  OK... well if that's how he feels.  I don't know - I surf to have a good time.  If I find myself getting worked up, I know its going to ruin everything about my surf from then on..  But, hey, whatever.  Not too much later, a guy - who happens to be the only black guy in the line-up - takes off just ahead of the old grump and gets to his feet to an enraged "Fuck off!" as he glides away.

As he's paddling back, raging bull is waiting for him.  He seems to know this.  They start have a full go at each other from about 30 metres away.  It's one of those really productive arguments that is more fuck you's than any real insults, let alone anyone trying to get their point across.  It's done at the top of their voices for everyone to hear.  Guys around me are trying not to stare, there's much murmuring about how pathetic and ugly it all is.  Then Cass Collier - the rasta legend - weighs in to defend the only other man of colour out there.  I couldn't hear who played the race card first, but just when you think it couldn't get worse, it got racial.  It was awful.

And it just carried on.  Full volume for five minutes.  Raging egos clashing against each other.  All sides butting their heads against a wall, solving nothing, hurting only themselves.  Adrenaline spent on conflict, rather than stoke.  It was shameful.  I couldn't say who was right or wrong, whose wave it was meant to be that sparked the shouting match, but all sides came off looking the fool.

A mate paddled up to me.  "So, everyone having a good time?"  That summed it up perfectly.

I didnt get any more rides like that one, but it didnt matter.  I still managed to leave the water with a smile on my face and an awesome memory to keep me going on the long ride home.  Those guys - who were both local it turns out - probably went home with a scowl.  They have to live with each other and everytime they meet at the backline, flashes of hate will pass between them.  What a way to ruin the paradise you live in.

On the other hand, I got some waves, made some friends, had kick-ass jol and left with fond memories.  But, then I tend to be quite awesome like that.  Feel free to point out me being a dick anytime.  That's what the comments section is for.

busy is good

It's been quite frantic this last while.  I can't remember the last time I took a day off.  But, then, maybe that's because I don't know what an off day looks like anymore.  I find myself desk bound on a saturday afternoon, but then tearing up the coast on a Monday morning.  I'm kicking back on weekend night, sinking too many beers, and not enough pool balls.  I'm scribbling notes on the side and trying to focus on the girl in the middle. 

I've surfed cold lefts and hard rights.  I've seen crowds and attitudes.  I've floated alone and yearned to have someone share the water with.   I've clocked around 3000kms in a just over week. 

Opportunities have sprung from nowhere, others went from solid to vapour.  It's a rollercoaster that ride without a ticket.  There's no seat belt.  You stay glued with your wits.  There's no end to it, you get off anytime you feel like it.

So far I'm loving it.  Two pics just to tease.  More to come.

The Weather Kitchen

That's what photographer Chris Bukard calls it.  And I like it.  There's always something cooking in the weather kitchen...

I've travelled to a few places where the weather is quite reliable.  To a degre, you know, how the morning is going to start, how the day is going to progress.  They usually low latitude.  You aim for a morning session before the wind picks up or switches, and then you hope for an evening glass off as the day cools down.  It's usually a variation of that.  Day in, day out.

Higher latitudes tend to be more interesting.  The birth place of storm systems, mother nature always tweaks the recipe and the result is an entirely different flavour.  A bit less pressure, and a dash more moisture and mix that atmosphere with a slightly warmer sea and voila - a unique storm bearing down on some undialled surfers.  Keeps them guessing.  You're always blind tasting in the weather kitchen.

This picture is about adventure for me.  It's about being far from civilization and chasing that elusive dream.  It's very elemental - earth, wind, water.  You can almost smell the damp of the forest floor, the seaweed on sand and the salt in the spray.  Wild eyes watch you from the shadows.  The wind moans as through the trees before being release to cheer as dashes over the waves and is released to the sea.

Picked lifted from 6feet and perfect, and courteousy of the legend, Chris Bukard.  Both pages will make you weep.  When I look at the most beautiful images to grace this page, Chris is very well represented.

Happy Friday folks.

Post script: It's actually a thursday for me.  Gosh, imagine working a six day week straight off the bat from all these short weeks.  But that's cool.  I'm outta here for a few days.  Hopefully will have a few tales to share with you and some pics to back them up when I get back.  Where am I going - you'll just have to wait and see.

Style on thursday

It used to all be about style, then at some point it became about movement.  Directions taken, angles forged and inertia resisted became the definition of skill.  Style was a byword.  Something that's good to have, but not what got you a sponsorship, much less a result.

So, today we look at someone who has all those things; a repetoire of great moves, and effortless style to match. 

Maassen

One of out favourite sons (yes, we'll claim him, like Dave Matthews and JRR Tolkein), Craig Anderson is one of the most envied surfers.  He's the perfect blend of old school chill and new school hack.  He makes it look so easy, so unforced, so unplanned.  And that is probably the key to it.  Just go with it.  Easier said than done.  He's got the suppleness to do it.  I think the my favourite parts to it are the way his arms just casually hang at his side - the anathema of my chopping salad, furious ninja flailing.  That and his dismounts - off his board, wave over and still looking damn cool.

via

Quiksilver

Add caption

“I do my own thing. Whatever makes me feel happy when I kick out on a wave.”  That's pretty much sums it up.

A sound wave

From a site that you shouldnt visit unless you can dedicate a full 30mins to lack-of-productivity.

Now on Facebook

Like most people, when should be doing other things like working, surfing, or even talking to loved ones, we're dicking about on facebook.

So, I thought we'd actually use this communication tool a bit more constructively:

Behold! https://www.facebook.com/TimeBetweenWaves

Zuckerberg: discusses the ideal width for his new custom made board.  He rides a big floaty minimal and only surfs where it's crowded so he drop in on people and steal their ideas... uh, waves...he steals their waves.

Like us there.  Or anywhere.

Spread the stoke.

Other news: I'm back in Cape Town and had a fun little session at a reef yesterday.  I missed the swell, but hey - it's not often you get to hang around in Istanbul Ataturk Airport for most of the weekend.  And Turkish flies a lot of places that you probably really don't want to go.  Cape Town is one of their better destinations.

Next international wedding is in New Zealand.  Quite amped for that one.  Shot Dave and Lana.

A Finnish child riding a fish

seems stoked

Like the title says: a Finnish child immortalised in bronze, and stoked as hell on his fish.  He may need some style correction, but at his age, we'll let that slide.

In the meantime, check out some more on the Finnish surf scene here: http://www.finnsurf.fi/trailer/