Huevos Rancheros

Or is it Wave-os Rancheros? A couple weeks ago I finally got a chance to visit a wave I've always wanted to surf: The Ranch in Guerrero, Mexico. It's a lefthand pointbreak that can hold up for more than 200 yards, and can hold some serious size to boot. We got it pretty good.

The pics above are from a day that I almost opted out of (see previous post), but decided to paddle out at around 11, right when the wind started blowing. Thanks to Ebb for putting together this little photo collage a typical day. When the swell really started cracking later in the week, seems like shooting photos took a backseat to actually shooting the curl... I can't believe I actually just wrote that.

But you know one of the best things about surfing the Ranch? Getting a breakfast of huevos rancheros, cooked over an open fire, served to you in front of the waves after a 3-hour session. The most pressing question of the day? Cafe con leche or a cold cerveza? Or a second session?

More pics to come...

Signs of the Times

Just got back from a two-week trip to Troncones, Mexico. Reviewing the pictures, this one really stood out. The one on the left is the sign I duct-taped to the fence outside our house early in the morning after my little boy struggled through a sleepless night, letting the other surfers in our "band of bachelor partiers" know that I'd have to take a morning off. I honestly think the reason he couldn't sleep was because the swell spiked that night and the explosions of the crashing waves kept him awake. I know those bombs going off made me a little restless.

The one on the right is the painting we worked on together that day. Sort of says a lot about how my life has changed from the old surfari days. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I'd Prefer Bamboo Under My Fingernails...

I had to skip the annual trip to Mexico with my faithful band of surf-banditos and you know what that means: regular dispatches from them detailing the roping, reeling lefts they've been scoring for the past week. It probably would be easier if I wasn't part of the original party who researched and reserved that beach house over a year ago. It also wouldn't be so tough, of course, if I'd made it to Brazil or if I'd been scoring perfect spring swell in their absence.

I was, I didn't and I'm not.

But a thought crossed my mind today on the rainy commute from my temporary cubicle gig that made it all a little easier: I had to stay home so that they could score. Murphy's law dictates that if we'd all been there, it would have been dead flat. And if somebody's not starving, the feast is just standard fare, right?

That, and the thought that almost exactly a year ago I was south of the border all by myself, posting pictures for my buddies at home to see...
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I guess I deserve it... :)

We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful - Morrissey

Mexican Blooper Fiesta

So here I am, still posting about Mexico because, frankly, I have no other material. Above is one of my many attempts to squeeze into a tiny toob. Hey, I may be wearing a lip sombrero, but my arm got totally shacked and my hand is still claiming it.

Stop, drop, and roll.

Our housekeeper hid the key to the front door, then left a big note on the front door telling us where the key was. Under the mat.

Oops. She wasn't going to make the section... uh... yeah. This serves a a permanent reminder not to get pissed when people accidentally drop in on me. The expression on her face says it all: "Oh no he di-in't!" Trust me, her wave count was still higher than anyone else out that day. My most embarrassing shot ever.

We drove about 50 miles and when we got out of our car, realized that the back straps had come undone on our boards. This is how we found them...

The "O" face.

Sailin' Away

Shiver Me Timbers

I'm leavin' my fam'ly
Leavin' all my friends
My body's at home
But my heart's in the wind
The clouds are like headlines
On a new front page sky
My tears are salt water
And the moon's full and high

And I know Martin Eden's
Gonna be proud of me
And many before me
Who've been called by the sea
To be up in the crow's nest
Singin' my say
Shiver me Timbers
'Cause I'm a-sailin' away

And the fog's liftin'
And the sand's shiftin'
I'm driftin' on out
Ol' Captain Ahab
He ain't got nothin' on me, now.
So swallow me, don't follow me
I'm trav'lin' alone
Blue water's my daughter
I'm gonna skip like a stone

So please call my missus
Tell her not to cry
'Cause my goodbye is written
By the moon in the sky
Hey and nobody knows me
I can't fathom my stayin'
Shiver me timbers
'Cause I'm a-sailin' away

And the fog's liftin'
And the sand's shiftin'
I'm driftin' on out
Ol' Captain Ahab
He ain't got nothin' on me
So come and swallow me, follow me
I'm trav'lin' alone
Blue water's my daughter
I'm gonna skip like a stone

And I'm leavin' my family
Leavin' all my friends
My body's at home
But my heart's in the wind
Where the clouds are like headlines
Upon a new front page sky
And shiver me timbers
'Cause I'm a-sailin' away.

--Tom Waits

I've sung this song to my son pretty much every night since he's been born. Always seems to put him right to sleep... I wonder what effect those lyrics might have on a developing mind?

You can hear Tom sing it below in one of his earliest recordings.

Wall Hangers

Gerry Lopez says that with surfing there are no prizes to bring home after a trip—no antlers to hang on the mantle to remind you of great sessions or amazing waves. He says that’s the reason why surf culture has developed such an amazing array of storytellers, because, “Sometimes the only thing as good as surfing is talking about it afterwards.”

I have to disagree with Gerry a little there. I’d say that surfing does have its version of antlers, and to keep that analogy going, Mr. Pipe is a big game hunter. Photographs and videos of surf trips are undeniably the deer heads we hang on our walls to bring back memories of our surfaris, from the harrowing drives down half-dry riverbeds to the rich colors of suspect street foods to, of course, the waves that we all go on these crazy quests to catch. And Gerry Lopez has collected some of the most iconic and prized images of the sport of kings—tangible, true souvenirs from a life well-spent. That’s not to say “talkin’ story” isn’t great as well, or that memories of certain waves won’t stay with you in the first person for the rest of your life, but man, it’s nice to have snapshots to go along with the words and reflections.

As I mentioned in the last post, we surfed with Ed from Quality Peoples a few days in Mex and, aside from being an all-around great surf chum, he also recorded our adventures on film. Like any good photojournalist, he takes pictures without being intrusive or making a big deal of it. He just gets his share of waves, then, when you least expect it, pulls out a camera and snaps away for a few minutes. The quality of his images are incredible, as you can see from the pics here and on his blog and photostream, really capturing the experience of surfing with friends in foreign lands.

So this post goes out to Ed, a true marksman and sharp-shooter when it comes to helping a band of motley surf dogs score some quality antlers for the mantle. Your blog, your designs, your photos—hell, your LIFE—is an inspiration. Looking forward to surfing together again, wherever that may be.

All images above copyright 2008 Ed Fladung, Quality Peoples.

La C*leta

Some great surf the last couple days, leaving not much time for drawing, but I found about fifteen minutes this afternoon to do a quickie computer sketch. It's been so great to hang with Ed from the Quality Peeps blog down here. He's probably the most talented designer/photog out there in surf blogland and I was honored that he took an hour from surfing La C*leta two days ago to snap some shots of OS, Gee and Me. Check his blog to see the results...

This trip has been a blast. Surfed a crazy little beach break this morning that I was sure would either break the board or the body, but somehow emerged unscathed -- if you don't count the mosquito bites.

Faraway, So Close

Our boat guy, "Freddy," loved taking pictures with my telephoto and it turned out that he had a really good eye. It didn't hurt that he surfed this area for eight years and knew the waves like the back of his hand. He claims that he gave up surfing five years ago because he "had enough waves." With consistency and perfect shape like the waves we've been getting, I could almost believe him.

Here's Freddy...

Priceless...

It took some time and effort (and a little extra dinero) but we finally scored a nice day at this Mexican point on Saturday... Mellow takeoffs, glassy conditions, hollow sections inside, and, best of all, all by our selves for two hours....

Down in the Funky Rivermouth

Went back out to the Rivermouth yesterday and scored again big-time. Can't really judge the size of these waves by the pictures, but if you look at the tire tracks on the beach above, it gives you an idea: shoulder to head-high with some punch. Inside the "boca" started to fire while we were out there and we took our chances paddling to the other side to catch some of the grinding, hollow rights. Caught some very, very memorable waves. Got worked a few times too.

We noticed the water was feeling a little greasy and wondered if the rains had unleashed some nasty runoff upstream. There was all kinds of wildlife out there, big fish, birds, and a school of rays that swam through the face of a wave as I hauled ass down the line.

Our questions of whether or not the water was dirty were answered this morning when OS woke up with a sore throat and cold symptoms. Our boardshorts stunk even after two washings today. We've renamed the break "Croc Pisses."

I think that if you ask OS, though, he'll say it was worth it. On the drive home he told me it was one of the best sessions of his life.

Surf's Where You Find It

Sometimes it's at the bottom of a Michelada (Beer + Lime Juice + Salt + Worcestershire Sauce), as it was the last couple days -- as we endured a rare flat spell in San Pancho, Mex -- and sometimes it's actually out there, just requiring a little more "gasolina" and conviction to uncover.

I've been out of town, which (along with a rental house that doesn't have internet) has really slowed my blogging down. We really thought that were were going to get skunked (again, for some) in Nayarit, but found a rivermouth that magnified the miniature swell and organized the waves into sweet, shoulder-high lines. When OS and I rounded a bend on a muddy, rocky road this morning we looked across an amazing, rock and palm-lined river and saw firing lefts and rights, staggered like laced fingers. We literally screamed at the tops of our lungs and rubbed our eyes like we were waking from a dream.

Needless to say, it was mirage-like, much like a cold beverage to thirsty men crawling across a ridiculously humid, crab-infested desert, filled with mosquitos that seem to bite no matter what third-world pharmacy spray they apply no matter what time of day it is. It was good. It was wet. And it was ever so refreshing.

More posts when I actually remember to bring a camera, but until then, cheers!

Keep the Tip: How to Turn Like a Sissy

After reading a few Surfer magazines that give detailed instructions on how to do things like boost airs and disengage the fins for tail-slide hacks (which always lose me after the first sentence), I was inspired to do my own version of "tips," Sissyfish style.

1. Chum has actually found a wave to himself, despite the fact that there are 15 guys going after the inside stuff. He's trying to compose himself, keeping his hands below his shoulders and looking ahead to see if this small peeler is indeed going to have a shoulder of its own. He wonders if that Chivas on the rocks last night was such a good idea after two margaritas.

2. Realizing that he'd better stop going straight, he applies a wee bit of pressure to the toe side of his back foot, almost falling over in the process. To regain his balance, he drags his left hand in the face of the wave, which gives the impression (for one frame) that he knows what he's doing.

3. The bottom turn has actually projected our hero a little farther away from the "critical section" than he'd like, so he starts to do a cutback, or at least what he thinks is a fin-humming cutback, pointing with his lead hand where he'd like to go: back to the swim-up bar at the hotel.

4. Notice how Chum has crouched a bit lower here. That's it: the extent of his flexibility. He is unable to get his ass any closer to the board or his knees any nearer to his chest. Doing so would surely pop a hammy, so he counterbalances with both his arms. But, helloooo? What's that coming off the wave behind him? Can anyone say "schralp?" Thank God nobody was back there or they may have been blinded by the spray.

5. Economy of movement is what this next part is all about. Chum hasn't changed his body position at all but somehow has faded back into the mushy pocket. Note how he's completely focused on the next sloping shoulder he's about to destroy.

6. I believe the old Aussie Roo Shampoo bottles said it best: Rinse and repeat, mates.

Put some Roo in your Doo and stay tuned for the next "Keep the Tip" installment, when Chum shows you how to bail your board with style on a closeout section.

Cinco de Mayo in Mexico: Fishy Fishy

How I spent Cinco de Mayo: Woke up like a fisherman at dawn and stumbled out of bed, wandered up the beach and caught some fishy waves on my fish (avoiding dead puffer fish along the way). Went to lunch at Taqueria Rossy, the best fish taco place in the world, and ordered dos de pescado and dos de camaron. The hipster in the Mollusk shirt was calling for some fish tacos too, but got denied on account of being toothless. Maybe next time, amigo!