Thursday, October 18, 2012
Honored and really quite stoked to write a hefty little feature about Steve Pendo for SLIDE. He and his design work are totally unique and inspiring.
I'm not sure if it is still on the magazine racks but I'm sure copies are available directly from the magazine itself.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
The Tyler Warren Experiments - Trailer from Build Worldwide on Vimeo.
There are few things I aspire to be and do as a surfer. I don't care for monsterous waves of height and girth. They are in my past. I don't care for the hyperbolic spazz 'n' spray workout of the be-thrustered many. As a rule I avoid stink-eye and paddle-battles.
I wouldn't mind surfing like Tyler Warren. Just such functional and diverse style. KLLR!
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
My favorite barrel-rider of all time. 6'6" Lis quad. A true revelation to me.
Average surfers like myself make memories out of mere moments.
The trail down from Triton Town is ever beautiful and baffling. Sea thieves conspire and scheme to take every single wave that they possibly can by any means that there has ever been in any conditions that there might be. And not to smile about it. Seriously. Why even surf if you're not going to smile?
Amongst the battling beasts I place myself. A kitten with the tigers, a pigeon trying to fly in falcon country.
Then Triton stirs. Salty karma can be sweet. A head and a bit peak rears and then jacks up double. I spin and gulp. I surf small waves, not barrels anymore, my real life has dictated as much. But there it is. A true barrel. Blue/black and robust. I slip to my feet and crouch back on above the fins. Click, click, zip! Fins, rail and rocker align and seek exit. I spread my arms and tickle the curtain as I exit.
There is nothing, nothing like being scared and then barreled. Back for more.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
So, my Kindergartener and I have some business to 'tend to. We have exactly forty-three minutes before we are to meet at Hula Pie Heaven for a family dinner celebrating Gramps' sixty-first. "Do you want to go surf?" "Sure Dad, but the waves look kinda big." They were. A nice January Juice was running with solid quadruple-overhead sets for a five-year-old. "I know where we can go and not have to worry about the paddleout..."
Race one coastal stoplight to the next. SUV's with bleached and bronzed yoga-moms at every glance. Plumeria stickers, surf racks, and dollar signs are not as compelling as one might think. You can keep North County.
But then we are there. Wetsuit change to the beat of the jitterbug. Chilly wind deadens against neoprene. Fins in hand, mat under my arm, boy's paw in the other. "Let's have an adventure." He says. He is on my back. I am laying on a pillow of air on the cold sea. We kick out with just over twenty minutes before we must leave. Smiles in the lineup. "What, you've never seen a matsurfer with a five-year-old on their back?"
Three quick waves down the line and a scramble back up topside. Quick change and heater on full-blast. "You ready for some of that Hula Pie, Kid?" "Yes."
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Half-past noon on a pleasant afternoon. The phone buzzes. "Ugh. Don't they know the baby is napping?" I, leaving my back garden, stomp into the house and grab the phone, hoping to gift my babe just a few minutes more rest.
"Hi Andy, It's me, Skip. You're board is done. Just need to finalize glassing." "Clear. Clear will be great."
It turns out that my phenomenal wife has ten years of anniversary love to share in the form of a gift, a 10' gift- Fish Simmons to slide my way.
It's funny, even though this last year was the busiest of my life it still felt whole, weighty, substantial, satisfying. Thanks to Amy, to Skip, to the Giver of Life and may 2012 roll forward with a groundswell of beauty, peace, and understanding.