E's Surf Report

I'm sorry but I can't say that the house party example is charging. Sounds a bit more like sitting on the shoulder

You buy a brand new porn. You take it home and pop it in the dvd player, grab a box of kleenex and....CHARGE!

I'd say that anybody that enlists in the Army or Marines these days is charging. If they are female then they are seriously charging.

YES!!!!!!
Kaiser this morning at Linda Marvin fading hard back-dooring a left on a triple overhead new south swell A-framed frothy double up peak wedging its way towards me and he yells, ' Got it Bro' as he shaka's me from inside da tube. PURE NICENESS FANTASY STOKE!!!!!!!
Question: Is Matt Warshaw gay? Seems to be something amiss in that interview...
EVENT LISTING:
BI-WEEKLY NICENESS CIRCLE JERK 8pm THE DUNES AT NORIEGA. BE THERE!!!!

I read about the ultimate charge a few months ago:

Just yesterday, witnesses claim a twenty to twenty-five foot Great White was circling the line up at the Mavericks surf spot for up to thirty minutes. The shark was feasting on a baby Orca and doing celebratory backflips, all with perfect re-entries. As throngs of onlookers gathered on the cliff to view the site, a quiet voice shook the crowd to the core.
"Looks minor," said the voice.
The crowd turned to see who uttered the phrase, only to see a hunched hooded soul walking back to his car. The dark figure sank out of view while the crowd turned their focus back to fish feeding.
Moments later, as the clouds darkened, young Timmy Tiggins of Half Moon Bay jumped to his feet and pointed out to sea. "There he is! He's paddling out! I can't believe its him!"
The crowd rose, tense and aware. They knew it was him, but why here, why now? Whispers turned to shouts, panic turned to fear...everyone jockying for a view, but too afraid to look.
Old Man Jenkins arrived in his pickup and stepped to the edge of the cliff, binoculars in hand.
"It's him alright. Look how the seas calm around him. He's in control. This is his time."
The shark had become an after thought, as all eyes were on the tiny figure paddling out to sea. The further he paddled, the thicker the swell grew, the glassier the ocean became. This was clearly his position, his moment to exist.
The figure reached the line up, sat atop his board and waited. Ten minutes go by. Twenty. The crowd had swelled.
"Is he trunkin' it?" asks Tyler, the local grom ripper.
"Trunking it? That's a banana hammock, son. As raw as it comes," answers Old Man Jenkins. Tyler was slack jawed.
What happened next can't be described in words. An attempt to explain it would just belittle the experience. It just wouldn't be fair. It was thirty minutes of experiencing life beyond what life should be. It was more than what science has told us, yet more than what religion has questioned.
The crowd dispursed, each witness alone in their thoughts. The last to leave was Old Man Jenkings, limping slowly back to his pickup. A young man comes sprinting up the hill, past the descending crowd.
Out of breath, the young man stops Jenkins at his truck.
"What did I miss?" asks the winded young man. Old Man Jenkins raised his head to the man and paused. His eyes were wet with emotion, his gaze a softened stare.
"He was here. It was him," sighed Jenkins.
"Who?! Who was here!?" shouted the young man. Old Man Jenkings paused, then climbed into his truck. He looked out to the ocean, and then back to the young man.
"Mav's charging charger was here."

agreed anti-charge, a true charger would run up and start humping her leg. very effective move with the ladies!

I recommend to your attention two posts from last night: Andrew's seafaring tale, and a stolen blue Goin egg.

Buying Bay Area real estate has some of the feel of charging: the oh-fuck-this-is-stupid-wheeeeeeee thing.

i'm going to charge my next surfboard on my mastercard.

carve board vs. longboard skateboard - which is chargier? cheaper? better for commuting?

i did'nt have enough money in my wallet so i had to CHARGE my coffee this morning.

doh, beat to the punch..i should have charged the refresh button

i'll take you to the candy shop
I'll let you lick my lollipop

having a baby is charging. i am definitely feeling like paddling like mad for the outside so i avoid the set all together. but i guess i am dropping in, like it or not. hope i make it. everybody says it's a blast but damn that wave is looking steep and heavy.

It looks heavy before you drop in, but once you pull into the barrel it's bliss and you wonder why you even doubted yourself. That's not to say you don't get pitched on takeoff now and then. But most would agree that the heavy barrels are worth the reef scars.

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The "leisure ethic," the dedication to a culture that rejects a life filled with work, deferred gratification, and mass anonymity, is perhaps the greatest threat to the community that the surfing subculture poses: Tom Wolfe's (1968) statement seems to express the community's concern for the surfers who continue to live "the life," who don't admit that surfing is an adolescent "stage." "Already there are some guys who hang around with the older crowd around the Shack who are stagnating on the beach"The "leisure ethic," the dedication to a culture that rejects a life filled with work, deferred gratification, and mass anonymity, is perhaps the greatest threat to the community that the surfing subculture poses: Tom Wolfe's (1968) statement seems to express the community's concern for the surfers who continue to live "the life," who don't admit that surfing is an adolescent "stage." "Already there are some guys who hang around with the older crowd around the Shack who are stagnating on the beach"The "leisure ethic," the dedication to a culture that rejects a life filled with work, deferred gratification, and mass anonymity, is perhaps the greatest threat to the community that the surfing subculture poses: Tom Wolfe's (1968) statement seems to express the community's concern for the surfers who continue to live "the life," who don't admit that surfing is an adolescent "stage." "Already there are some guys who hang around with the older crowd around the Shack who are stagnating on the beach"The "leisure ethic," the dedication to a culture that rejects a life filled with work, deferred gratification, and mass anonymity, is perhaps the greatest threat to the community that the surfing subculture poses: Tom Wolfe's (1968) statement seems to express the community's concern for the surfers who continue to live "the life," who don't admit that surfing is an adolescent "stage." "Already there are some guys who hang around with the older crowd around the Shack who are stagnating on the beach"The "leisure ethic," the dedication to a culture that rejects a life filled with work, deferred gratification, and mass anonymity, is perhaps the greatest threat to the community that the surfing subculture poses: Tom Wolfe's (1968) statement seems to express the community's concern for the surfers who continue to live "the life," who don't admit that surfing is an adolescent "stage." "Already there are some guys who hang around with the older crowd around the Shack who are stagnating on the beach"The "leisure ethic," the dedication to a culture that rejects a life filled with work, deferred gratification, and mass anonymity, is perhaps the greatest threat to the community that the surfing subculture poses: Tom Wolfe's (1968) statement seems to express the community's concern for the surfers who continue to live "the life," who don't admit that surfing is an adolescent "stage." "Already there are some guys who hang around with the older crowd around the Shack who are stagnating on the beach"The "leisure ethic," the dedication to a culture that rejects a life filled with work, deferred gratification, and mass anonymity, is perhaps the greatest threat to the community that the surfing subculture poses: Tom Wolfe's (1968) statement seems to express the community's concern for the surfers who continue to live "the life," who don't admit that surfing is an adolescent "stage." "Already there are some guys who hang around with the older crowd around the Shack who are stagnating on the beach"

CHARGE!

Andrew's post from yesterday

Dear Coleman Customer Service Representative;

I would like to lodge a formal complaint against the Navigator 2-Person Inflatable
Raft. To understand the significance of this complaint, I must tell the entire story from the beginning.

When I saw her on the shelf at Target, I knew she was a fine raft. Not just seaworthy, but something special. "The sea will never take her" I told to the cashier who was compelled to stop chewing her gum as she nodded in agreement: speechless. But such a fine vessel does not belong in a box, so I brought her to the shore to gaze upon the open ocean which would one day be her playground.

Although my intention was just to admire the ocean, the conditions were aboslutely perfect for her maiden voyage. The call of the ocean was strong. The deepest blue swells lapped languidly against the shore, beconing a sailor and to inflate his raft and seek adventure. While not a shipwright by trade, I felt a bond with the raft and my hands worked on their own, with no conscious thought, to busy the task of inflating her. The bellows sucked in the sweet salty air, and like Pygmalian gave life to the beautiful raft. Her double valves secured the air as she sat proudly in the sand glistening in the sun.. Such a mighty raft was she, I had admire her and say once again, "the sea will never take her." And I felt as strong, like a part of me had been also inflated.

And looking out to the ocean, I new she was ready to taste the ocean. I pulled her to the water's edge and it seemed as if the tide came up to meet us. An energy that dates back to the Phoencians ran through as the raft met the sea, and I shoved off. A fresh breeze blew through my hair as the Coleman navigator helped me feel the freedom of the sea and inflate my spirit. The rolling swell rocked me gently and I began to doze, for how long I know not. Time does not seem to exisit in such pleasantness. But little did I know that while I slept, Posiden must have spotted my vessel from below. Whether I did not properly seek passage of his oceans, the capriciousness of the gods or simply his covertness of such an artful raft, I shall never know for sure. The god of the seas wanted my raft.

I awoke from my slumber just as the clouds (for thieves always prefer darkness), started to blot out the sun. The fog's fingers seemed to clasp tightly my bones and chill them like winter's darkest night. The fresh breeze was building, not just in speed, but I swear the very air became thicker. And the waves built up all around me until I could see water above me in every direction. I scarcely had time to take the helm before the first wave crashed over the bow, drenching me in freezing water. Every droplet of spray felt like spikes against my bare flesh. I felt the vessel floudering, and I knew I had to bail out the bilges. But it was the following wave, as always, that struck the raft the hardest. She rolled on her starboard side, and I scrambeled up the rigging, barely keeping her from capsizing. As the wave passed, she righted, but with such force I was thrown clear from my perch. I managed to grab onto the tow rope, with a clasp that had more strength than I knew I had.

As I hung half overboard, I could feel a tugging upon my leg. Surely it was the bony fingers of long dead pirates and mutineers, sent by their eternal master to fetch my raft. "The sea will never take her." I screamed out, partly as a warning, and partly out of madness. As the cursed dead gathered in greater numbers to pull me to the sea floor, they began to pull the whole vessel down as my clutch held fast. Their number had become so great, they hung from me as a great ball dragging the vessel and me to a watery grave. I would not let go, but the tow bit finally gave way. Impotentely holding the line no longer fixed to the bitt, I took a final breath and looked up to the sky determined to view it again.

But then suddenly the sky was blotted out, not by the water, but by a great leaping sea monster. It was larger than any vessel, larger than any fleet, bearing great poision fangs and blood red eyes that flashed in the darkness. Truly, I knew, it was my time to go, and shoved off of the raft that the ghosts must swim that much more to get her. The seamonster devoured the great lot of them, first scores in great mass, then the individuals that tried to escape. And though they each scarcely made a meal, the monster ate such a great multitude that the beast could not feed anymore. And though several of the ghosts remain, they dare not approach me with their numbers so greatly reduced. I swam up to the surface and from the top of the largest pitching wave, I spied the raft. Slidding down the face of the wave (it took a count of 20 the wave was so large), I landed right into the center of the raft.

Seeing my skill as a sailor and a solider must have disheartened old Neptune; the seas soon abated. The fearsome gale turned into a trade wind that blew me toward safe harbor. And upon reaching the shallows, I stepped off of the raft knowing my ordeal was over. And on the beach to greet me was a small child with a plastic pail and shovel. I looked at child, who could clearly see the majesty in my walk, the power one can only receive after such an ordeal, and I said "The sea could not take her."

So as my story clearly demonstrates, the tow bit on the front of the raft is very weak and should be either strengthed or clearly marked. The entire main bladder of the raft ruptured when the tow bit came off. I hope in the future Coleman can improve their products to meet recreational demands. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Andrew

So on the way to work today I stopped and helped someone who had a flat car battery. Within moments of getting out to help, I was seriously chargin'.

thanks, davo.
i have yet to hear from a single person who didn't say that. they all say they are totally shacked out of their minds, with a few reef scars, so i am trusting you guys.
stand up barrel with my hands behind my back, here i come.

s.s. - wanna meet up for dp tomorrow? anyone else? we can scream outside, call each other off waves, cry and otherwise annoy everyone in the water.

I'm tired of seeing this pic of a dolphin and having people assume it is a shark. It is not, the tail is horizonatal, not vertical and the nose is too pointy for a shark.

Skateboards....chargier on a shorter board with longboard trucks and bigger wheels. Great for commuting.

WTF is a flat car battery?

Bagel, could you please leave town again for the good of all those who enjoy the waves?

I like that BV posts are so easy to spot...

The End Times

My mind has of late been humming with morbid thoughts on surfing: about crowds, about hostility, about sordid changes to the face of the California coast due to development, pollution, global warming, El Nino, and wetsuits made in Indonesian sweatshops (or so I hear). About how the Old Days are gone. About how Malibu has become a point-breaking septic tank populated by transplanted, soulless financial professionals and slimy entertainment executives. About the Palos Verdes Fundamentalist Surf Jihad, coastal terrorists ready to commit acts of criminal mayhem to preserve the next set for the Faithful, or at least the local. About how impossible it must be for a newcomer to learn the ropes without suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous aggro. With such a legacy as this, what could still be good about surfing?

I began surfing in the early 70s, along Northern California’s frigid, rocky coast - the provinces, in those days. Lucky me. Being well out of the mainstream ensured I got my own sweet piece of surfing’s cake before the big crowds arrived. That, and being hardy enough to stand the frigid Northern California water before wetsuits were really effective and affordable.

Even then surfing’s necrosis was well-advanced; by the time I was making my first bottom turn, things were already getting desperate down in Malibu. Nevertheless, I was attracted by the tatters and remnants of surfing’s embattled culture: the loose, casual affect. The unabashed hedonism. The delicious tension of knowing your daily agenda could be obliterated at a moment’s notice with a simple, “surf’s up.” The easiness of beach life. The proposition that you could turn your back on society’s demands and expectations and things could still turn out alright, as long as you had sun and fresh air and open spaces and virgin surf. Who wouldn’t have wanted to participate? The surfing lifestyle had become a cultural touchstone, a bold semaphore for leisure, thrill, and libertinism.

This allure seems to have become surfing's demise; everyone did want to come along, and they wanted to stay, too. Which is how we arrived where we are today. Surfing, seemingly a victim of its own popularity, history and culture, is starting to look quite unsustainable in its present arc.

And things will stay this way - as long as we allow ourselves to be trapped by the icons and monoliths of surfing’s yesterdays. As long as we define surfing as the sum total of its established habiliments, there will be only so much to go around. As long as people are married to the canonical postures, official attitudes, and standard equipment, things will continue to decay as they’re decaying today.

Please, no screaming in the water, and that means everyone.

do we HAVE to read that IKEA?

sorry, waves will be crap this weekend, though im seeing little windows of oppurtunity..im camping next weekend though so i'd start stretching now..

i agree with the dolphin picture issue..

steamwand,
parenting is so very much rewarding. just watch out for ayso soccer. those games are always in the fall/winter on saturday mornings. arrrgggghhh!!!!!

IKEA should quit surfing.

Andrew,
Read The Odyssey; apparently you did not make the proper sacrifices to the gods. That's what got Odysseus into so much trouble and he was delayed 10 years on his voyage home. So fire up that BBQ, roast something good, and make an offering lest it happen again.

A "flat car battery" is a battery that's for a car that no loger contains any power, or electrical "charge." When you hook up another car's battery to repower it, you are giving the dead battery a "charge."

yeah IKEA, it might be time to find another activity. There are other virginal pursuits still available.

nice use of "semaphore," "habiliments," and "arc."

dead battery, not flat!!!

hey IKEA, i think "crumping" is still pretty fresh and pure.

Any day when more people get denied than make it out is a chargeable charger day. When the next closest guy in the lineup is just a speck on the horizon 500 yards away.

A "dead" battery is one that won't ever hold a "charge" again. A "flat" battery is one that's lost its "charge" but still can be repowered.

Well said INOKEA.
I can't understand if your bitter or giving up?
Either way, you prolly have better semaphore and habliments than most.
leading me to think that you are archetypical of the demographic from which you represent.
STAY STOKED.

steamwand - It's a good thing that newborns are so cute otherwise we would surely kill them before they reached their first year. All that crying and pooping! Yeeuucchh! Not only that, but babies are the most selfish, amoral critters alive. Face it - if an 18 month old was big enough, they'd gleefully KILL YOU for a cookie! After a while, you manage to teach them some manners so that they don't pick their nose or play with themselves in public. Then you make the SUPREME mistake of taking them to the beach, putting them on a surfboard and telling them, "Pop up directly to your feet. DO NOT GO TO YOUR KNEES!" It's all down-hill from there. They start snaking your waves and calling you an old kook. Eventually they grow up, get a job, and move into a one-bedroom apartment with four other sociopathic youngsters. Just when you start to get over the irrational guilt, self-doubt and depression that comes with "empty-nest syndrome" and start to get your life back, your kid calls - not to ask for money, or to see if they can come over for a meal or to use the washer and dryer - but just to "...say hello and see how you're doing..." Don't fall for it! It's just a ploy to fool you into thinking you haven't raised a serial killer after all. Little bastards!
Just kidding - or maybe not. In any case, being a parent IS COOL. It IS worth it. Especially traveling with kids, once they're old enough (nine or ten years). You get treated better by the locals when you have a kid with you. I'll miss that, now that my youngest ain't so little and cute anymore.

Several years ago, when I used to work at a motorcycle shop, I got to know a lot of our customers. One of these customers was a middle aged school teacher that rode very responsibly. He was riding on the highway and a surfboard from a toyota pickup truck in front of him blew off and caused him to wreck. The other riders quickly stopped and to their horror watched as he stood up from the crash and was plowed down by a tractor-trailer.

People need to take care to secure their payloads.

Inokmart makes an interesting notion. In "Riding Giants", Greg Noll notes how the guys he learned to surf from were all gentlemenly, then everything went to shit when the styrofoam and fiberglass replaced redwood and balsa. It was the sport of kings in Hawaii. History shows the other side, too. Warshaw opens up "Zero Break" with an account from Captain Cook's 1st Mate in some south seas island of a lone surfer on a modified canoe at some point break. Maybe that's closer to the ideal rather the villiage of Hawiians out in their ritualized surfing contests. But as we live in the here and now, I suppose ideals don't fit perfectly to any reality.

Things progress and change. If shit stayed the same life would suck even worse. Get over it. For every shitty thing the populaty of surfing has done for you it still makes you feel really good when you get barreled.

I surfed after work last night in 2 foot wind-blown slop and felt satisfied with my session. I gotta remember it's better to surf in slop than not at all.

Damn Moraga. That sounds like a Wylie Coyote moment. Not to make light of it. I was nailed by a car on my motorcycle too.

Strong point Dennis. If I can peel my ass off of my office chair, I'll be out there soon doing the same. Nothing wrong with a utility session.

does anyone have that link to that cam at shainghai kellys cove?

Inokea - I admire your writing skills. On the other hand, I don't agree with your doomsday outlook. There are some positive aspects to the growing surf population. One being political power. Look at the good work Surfrider Foundation is doing in preserving surf sites around the world. Some beach towns are opening up surfing beaches by moving swimmers into narrower areas. This is because of the relity that surfers spend money in beach towns - big money, and the towns collect taxes so they are beginning to cater to us. I also think the SF surf population has waned over the past couple years. It gets crowded in Sept and Oct when the weather is nice and the waves are good, but quickly the crowds fade away. I've had plenty of solo sessions this year.

anybody have any recommendations on non-DEET mosquito repellent that works? headed out to n*ls*n l*k* out of t**l*mn* m**d*ws tomorrow and have heard it's one helluva mozz season.

j, some recent test or other recommended "off botanicals", which has a little deet but not like the "deep woods" thing. it's supposed to be as effective but less noxious and disgusting. the best non-deet is repel lemon eucalyptus, which is effective, not-deet, but gross.

found the link:

http://slate.com/id/2123291

Here you go Bagel

http://www.video-monitoring.com/usgs/default.htm

sweet. thank you, danke. i thought it was live for some reason...

J - try using B***b*r.

Gravity bong rips of kif after five or six tequila shots and just as many beers == charging (into an over-the-falls wipeout onto dry reef)

We need some order around here. This is getting fucking ridiculous. 6 ft @ 20, 8 ft @ 15, whatever. And points don't count. Anyone can paddle there.

I know who I won't see out there. And I know I won't get some bullshit opinion out there either.

Until then, fuck off to all the cynics and ranters that add ZERO value whether in type, in the water or in life! You know who the fuck you are.....

For rest, go have a beer.

Its all chicks and attitude until that first fall swell comes. Get used to it.....

Until then:

Mr. Kaiser:
One of the most powerful characteristics of surfing social structure during this early stage in the surfing career is the absolute loyalty that the members have for the group. The popular singing group, the Beach Boys, wrote a song that stated: "None of the guys go steady 'cause it wouldn't be right / to leave your best girl home on a Saturday night." During the apex of the surfing group's solidarity, surfing and the activities of the group become more important than any other activities in the surfer's life. This loyalty is rewarded with high status in the group and a sense of unity that all members enjoy.

My binoculars and beach chair are tuned up and ready for the first big swell!

Steamwand: sorry no can do dp tomorrow. Next week and in general? :)

Today's lunchtime lesson was discovering that I'm the carrier of a dense pea brain. Tried to find a neoprene swim cap - hell, any cap - eventually reduced to wandering the kids' department with the water wings and bath toys. Speaking of swimming, Dennis I'll email you in a bit. Since you said you want to start swimming don't think I"ll let you get out of this...

IKEA,

Thanks. But I really could care less. But good work with the copy/paste function. You show great promise. Promise for what, I have no idea......

INOKEA, way to bust out the $0.75 words, "habiliments", I like it.

SS. I was thinking about it last night during my session. I'm having a garage sale tomorrow but maybe Sunday... BTW, If anybody needs any crap that I don't want, swing by 2590 GH at Vicente from 9 to 1 pm. A few home items of interest though.

I dont even get it!

Kaiser: Like you make sense?!

I'm writing a book...

dennis, got any old crappy long boards 4 sale?

IKEA takes pleasure in ridiculing others. Ridiculing others is one of the most powerful characteristics of the 3rd grade social structure. During this early stage in the bully/know-it-all's development is the absolute loyalty that IKEA has for his conception of the "good ol' days." The popular singing group, Metallica, wrote a song that stated: "I like to go on websites and complain and ridicule people who i don't know but who i assume represent the downfall of my once beloved pursuit."

During the apex of the bully's development,
ridiculing and casting bad vibes become more important than any other activities in the complainer's life, including surfing. This loyalty to the cause of whining and complaining is rewarded with high status in the group of PWHCOTS (People With Huge Chips On Their Shoulders) and eventually leads to that individual retiring from said sport and taking on a new career as profesional complainer.

Kaiser, that web-site is blocking the images you're posting.

I'm hosed, starting in about a month. Not only did I heavily encourage my six year old to try out AYSO soccer, but I even let myself get roped into being the assistant coach. So goodbye Friday arvo sesh and Sat am sesh. Oh well, I did voluntarily drop into the barrel that is childrearing.

Another paste job for da Kaiser.

http://www.iwannabefamous.com/

IKEA's source:

http://facs.scripps.edu/surf/srf_thes.html

Nonsequitirs from Monkey:

"Hey, how do you like your Masochist??"

"I like 'em medium-rare, makes 'em taste real ono."

Ha ha Nokia, Kaiser busted you. What was that plagiarized from?

My 88-year old grandmother called and said "How's it going with the deap-sea diving?" She meant surfing. Love my grandma....

Have a ----- weekend.

-MM

Oh man you are SO busted NOKIA.

-MM

HA! IKEA was outed. classic, just classic.

kaiser, as for his promise, i can promise you this: his posts will be annoying.

kloo, thanks for the article post. i bought something with picaridin (sp?) in it, we'll see what happens... dennis, i have no idea what you're talking about, hahaha.

From that study:

"The total active surfing population regardless of residence in the Santa Cruz, California area is believed by the author to number from 4,000 to 5,000 persons; however, there are no known reliable data available at present on this subject."

I think he means 4,000 to 5,000 persons per wave in Santa Cruz.

IKEA, try this one:

http://www.whogivesafuck.org

the population of SC (town) was around 36,000 at that time. i was there but don't think the surfer population was that high then......or maybe i was...that high..then.

Baby Kaiser?

Ikea no smart. Ikea use copy/paste. Ikea call himself Thomas Scoville? Me think not. Ikea one big kook.

http://thomasscoville.com/surf_piece.html

That's the second copy/paste job today Ikea. Beat it.

That last pic is pretty whacky. What is that?

If you guys read to the end of the article that Ikea copied from, it actually has an nice upbeat ending:

"Act IV: Bon Voyage

It seems to me that for surfing to stay healthy, its practitioners might take a lesson from Buddhism: embrace change, but hang onto the spirit. Now more than ever - in surfing, as in the world at large - the pace of change is accelerating. Skeptical? Ten years ago I thought Gerry Lopez’s pioneering days were through. I’d never have guessed they’d be towing him onto a 60-foot face from a petroleum-powered water-rocket, with a wave-running orbital reentry/deep water rescue SWAT team standing by. Five years ago I’d never have guessed some guy in France would be jumping swells propelled by a stack of high-powered, steerable kites. Who knows what’s in store? Super-buoyant, structured wetsuits might bring bodysurfing back into the spotlight. Sponging might twist itself into a virulent new mutant strain of kneeboarding. Hell, I hear paddling is making a comeback.

Maybe in 50 years the foam-and-resin, paddle-and-standup set will have fossilized completely. Does that mean that surfing will be dead? I don’t think so - there aren’t many biplanes or dirigibles in the air these days, but that doesn’t mean aviation is dead, either. Does that mean that we’ll no longer be “surfers”? Perhaps. But as long as we’re stoked and we’re connected to the ocean, will it matter what other people call us?

The point, it seems to me, is that the history, culture, and practice of this thing we’ve all been calling “surfing” has a recognizable spirit which commands us to gather up the essentials and find a way to enjoy and connect. I would argue that if you’re not enjoying and connecting each time you get in the water, you need to ask yourself why. Maybe it’s time to find your way.

Finding your way is your own personal journey, and there are as many paths as there are surfers. Who knows what yours might be? Maybe it’s a tow-in. Maybe it’s finding the generosity within yourself to share a wave with a stranger. Either embraces the spirit. Either is revolutionary. "

definatley nicer than telling INOKEA to beat it.

***k it's 4:21

Just copying and pasting from some Micheal Jackson lyrics...

Speaking of MJ...What does Micheal Jackson like so much about 28-year-olds?

The fact that there's twenty of 'em.

Gay Abercrombie ability challenged transplanted frat boys sound like the bunch of preening little self protecting wankers that you are. It's a lot like watching little kids in the sandbox fighting over shoveles and sand. Thought you knotheads could use a little intelligence, albeit lifted off the net; better reading than the drivel you chumps unload, pics of minge and waves. Yep, niceness. U B DEEP.
LAMENESSSAMNESS

i know you are but what am i?

aaaah ha! IKEA has a break down and reveals his true self as.....BVB!!!! too easy.

Fuck off! Attitude and chicks til' fall...

Speaking of chicks, who supports you? Don't act like one, embrace one.

If I wanted enlightenment, I would read a fucking book.

Sorry Bagel. No surf crap.

rad old timey shots!

oh word, thanks Dennis.

This is fun watching a self-proclaimed intellectual get transported back to 3rd grade...so when's the novel come out anyway?

blakestah says:

The most important thing now to note is there are a steady stream of weak lows (gales) coming through the Gulf of Alaska, this is early for us, and generally means an early fall pattern coming in. We can hope, anyway, that it will be like the early fall in '97.

nice!!!

We have had some good times together, Kaiser. You're a pink rabbit with a little, eerie, smiley face right below the head that makes it look like a mushroom. You've got pearls, a pretty cream battery case, and the key to my heart. I named you Kaiser after the mother on Arrested Development; additionally because I thought it was a pretty bitchin name. Instead of naming you after some sexy male celebrity, I felt like you were going to be my rifle, my trusty tool, and you needed a regular guy name.

You were bought at the insistence of my long distance boyfriend. He also suspected that this my curb my absolutely insatiable appetite. I was skeptical at first: at 20 years old I had never successfully brought myself to cum by myself and only a few years earlier had I accidentally discovered how my ladybits "properly" functioned as to allow for a happy ending and this had only been replicated in a partner situation.

And at first, it was tough. We tried you out together, me lying on my back. It was alright, it worked out decently well, he was happy, but I was left $30 poorer with this giant, ugly, awkward thing lying in my top desk drawer next to the post-its.

Eventually he returned home and I had a genius idea. Laying awake one night, squirming awkwardly under the covers and hungrily sweating, I devised a setup to replicate the only way I had been able to up to this point. I piled up two pillows longways between my legs, stood you up, and took the plunge. With no one but myself at the controls, I awkwardly navigated and grinded on you until the final successful moments. We both had determination in our eyes that night, and when I finally tumbled over the cliff I was alone--a weird, startling, unusual thing to be. And I liked it.

You didn't ask for anything in return. You didn't want to get lodged in my throat. You didn't want me to buy a pizza, you didn't secretly think I was fat. You were my friend.

I kept you hidden in my drawer when my dorm roommate came home. At night I would angrily glare at her from my bed, wishing we didn't have classes at the same time, wishing for an ounce of privacy to recreate what had become a personal milestone.

When I finally moved out of the dorm I moved into the basement of a girlfriend's house in Geyserville until my apartment opened up. Her FAMILY'S house might I add. Though she slept in a room only a doorway away, and there was an open stairway into the room I lived in, I used you insatiably. On the couch in the dark, on the floor, in the bathroom with the shower on so I had a legitament reason at 5 in the afternoon to be in there for so long. I rode on the Metro from work just to be trembling when I pulled you from the black RadioShack bag I kept hidden under mounds of clothes.

When I moved into the apartment in Adam's Morgan a month ago, it was more of the same. Except now I had upped the ante. I used you twice daily at least--sometimes working my way up to three times. I was concerned I was becoming addicted but I didn't care. I used to call my boyfriend so he could listen to it happen to me (at his begging, pleading requests); now I became too worked up into a frenzy at a moment's notice that there was no time.

But you, you betrayed me. As soon as I moved into my apartment--the first room that was truly my own in 11 months, the wires that connected the base to the battery connector/controller began to fray. The 'Vibration'--my lifeline--became flakey. I had to move the battery case a certain way just to get you to work. Then in the middle of a session the wires just plain frayed completely. You died. And I, too, died a little inside.

I kept good care of you. I cleaned you. I kept you safe. I loved you. And you, for no particular reason, frayed in the most unlikely spot. You betrayed me.

Now I am alone at night. I finally broke down and purchased a $60 version of you made with a more realistic material and better made controls. Sixty fucking dollars that I don't have. I probably can't buy groceries this week because I expedited the shipping because I can't sleep without it.

Goodbye, Kaiser. You served me well, even if now you lay daintily on the bathroom counter--torturing and taunting me even now (but not the good kind).

PS--Is anyone good with soldering? Real life replacements need not reply. This 1-3 day wait is killing me.

BVB for president!

He shows great promise indeed...for long drawn out metaphorical epithets.

peace in the middle east!
smoke em if ya got em!
have an awesome weekend!

Alright BOB-o, I'll give ya what you want!

$3.27 is all the lunch money I got.

I wish you the best of luck in your new career, I hope you get enough time to surf!

Keep me pissed until fall, it'll make that first paddle a fucking piece of cake. Maybe you can loan me your "Sunset Gun" for a trip around the cove one day. God knows I need a fucking crutch as well right?

You win, over and out. Fall is coming, I DON'T GIVE A FUCK.

The new breed will be fucking with you when I am long and gone. And the new breed is LOCAL, so don't even try to fuck with the new breed. 'Cause locals rule right? RIGHT?

Ha ha, I got places to be and this isn't one of them!

i'll 2nd the nomination and last post.

bagel, i got those shots from this way cool site:

http://sflib1.sfpl.org:82/

suh-weeet kloo

have a niceness weekend see ya in da wada

bango skank was here!

kooks.

Great link, Kloo. It would suck to to have an oil spill at OB, like this one from Jan '71.

those sand dunes are cool. OB pretty much looks like shit compared to the 19th century.