Lis, large...

6'8"

pulled tail.

Gnome approved.

Legit.

Pulled in tail, paddling power, and finely foiled Geppys. I greet winter with open arms. A certain reef is waiting for me...

The naked truth...

Not the skunk that died under my house. It's a figurative trope. I got skunked.

Half day Wednesday. I wrapped up my work early to get a surf in. Buoys are showing zero, zilch, nada. So I get on my no-surf-treadmill. South Torrey parking, suit up, jog for two miles with my board, catch a few at Ho Chi Minh's Endpoint. Done it a hundred times. Good exercise and a dip in the pacific puddle.

This time I get a cramp. The arch of my right foot clamps down! And I just reached North Peak (showing tiny little fun ones). I sit on the sand and apply appropriate stretches. Ouch. No surf for me. I jump in the water and rinse off two miles of sweat. I try to start back at a jog. Then I start getting a blister or four. Now I have to walk. Two and a half hours, four miles and zero waves later I get back to my car.

Skunked. I hope the weekend offers better.

P.S. In case you were wondering- there are NOT any waves south of The Pines and North of The Pier's Big Brother. Also, YES there are a lot of naked middle-aged men. Skunked!

Cult of personality...

Line up the press! Text your agent! Shmooze those sponsors!

Lots of personalities have passed through these haunts. To this day it's much the same. Not my homebreak, but a serious piece of our collective consciousness as surfers. "Hey Butch, what do you think of the lot getting ripped up?"

I'm a bit ill from all the politico-celebrity inertia. Once a pig with lipstick starts running it's hard to stop. It occurs to me that there is a certain cult of personality in surfing as well. We have our pedestal packed with shapers and, more recently, artists who through deed or reputation have been elevated. But we should consider ourselves lucky. Our celebrities are unknown to all others. Our geniuses go by nicknames and wear Chuck Taylors. "Hi Buzzy. Hey Skip. What's happening Kong?" Seriously, can anyone named Skip, Buzzy or Kong be taken Seriously? The last three weekends I've seen R. Presiendorfer paddling his atrocious stand-up behemoth through the lineup. "Hey Rusty, 're you still shaping?" Our next generation are not scouted by talent agents or groomed to play at their pac-10 university of choice. We say hi to our heroes at the beach. We enjoy their creations and admire their handiwork while still being able to access them as individuals. We are lucky.

Yet. Surfer Magazine et al. insist on publishing power rankings and determining a "hot 100". Don't they get it? It's surfing, an "elegant diversion."(M.Cunningham).

So. In honor of the differences that make surfing special, please say hi to the next surfing "personality" you see at your local. Then paddle into a nice wave, just like they're going to do.