My Space

Here's my situation:
I sit here in this room all day long
with my brand new surfboard
mocking my inability to ride it.

I hear it laughing at me, man.

The mountain range has been too snowy
for early-morning surf missions.
And I took a bunch of writing gigs
to compensate for some upcoming vacations.

I guess things could be worse...
By all accounts I'm not missing epic surf.
And I'm spending this weekend at the beach.
And I do have a few trips to Mexico planned...

Another Roadside Attraction

Whenever I drive by this outcropping, with the single tree leaning over the bay, I immediately think of Ukiyo-e woodcuts. Incidentally Hiroshige, the guy who did the picture above, is the dude who carved that famous cresting wave you see everywhere*, probably the most famous wave in the history of art.

*Correction, it was Hokusai that did the famous wave mentioned above (thanks, Zack). I think I was thrown by the view of Fuji in the background. One more misstep like that and I'll have to turn in my artfag badge!

GOLDEN

GOLDEN
My mind was clear
My body tired
My skin salty and dry
The waves were there
They cleaned my hair
The sun shined in the sky

From low tide pull
To high tide push
Four hours I did play
If you can’t surf every day of the week
Surf a week’s worth in one day.

***

Amazing how a good surf can get everything back in tune again. At least for a week or so...

Sissyfish: The Book

I can't believe I forgot to post this. On my birthday in November my wife presented me with an actual book of my surf drawings that she somehow stealthed from my hard drive. She's a graphic designer so she did an amazing job with layout and picking images to juxtapose on each spread. The book is 30 pages long, paper back, and roughly the dimensions of an LP cover. When I squeezed the info on how much it cost to print, I was kind of shocked: somewhere between $100-$200. Shattered like a potato chip thruster on a Seaside boulder were my dreams of doing a longer version with excerpts from blog posts, incendiary comments, and photos...

But today I just received an email with a link to www.blurb.com, an online company that gives you the tools to make bookstore quality hardcover books for around $30-$50 bucks. No, I'm not getting paid to pimp this website. It's just something I thought my blog buddies should know about, especially those with artistic compulsions or self publishing dreams. In other words, watch this space. I may need to get ten people together to order the second edition of the Sissyfish Book for a 10% discount!

The Best Thing About Blogs...

...Is that when you open up a dialog about art, writing, film, etc., people directly involved in the subject matter you're discussing can come and be part of the exchange. I bring this up because I just noticed that author of the new Miki Dora book "All for a Few Perfect Waves" came by and gave his two cents about DiCaprio's involvement in a potential film version of his work. You can read David Rensin's comment HERE under "drensin." Basically, he pointed out that all the actors suggested as alternatives to Leo were valid (even Hedaya...), but that none of those guys offered to buy the script. Leonardo did though, and for that I have to give him credit. It's an amazing story that is ripe for the screen. As I said before, I'm not hating on DiCaprio as a person--I'm just not a huge fan of his acting.

As a matter of fact, since writing the post I've had some interesting debates with some of my most film-buffy friends, many of whom also think Leo can pull off 'Da Cat. I hope so, but until we're actually able to squabble about the movie itself, I'm looking forward to picking up a copy of the book and reading it on my next Mexico trip (in about 27 days and counting...) David, if you're still out there, thanks for stopping by!

The book drops on April 4, 2008. Pick it up at Powell's.


Syd Barrett - Jugband Blues

Hitting the G-Spot

The third annual G-Spot Invitational happened again on Sunday in some small but amazingly fun low tide beachbreak. The sun was out all day, we surfed for nearly three hours, and nobody got hurt... although there were plenty of friendly drop-ins. It's starting to feel like springtime in the Pacific Northwest with mellow waves, periods of slack wind, and days where it can be sunny, rainy, and a little snowy all in the course of a few hours. My family even braved the snowy drive over the mountain range to attend the festivities and had a cold beer waiting for me when I came in. It hit the spot.

The official results are as follows:

Best Wipeout: Nash
Best Wave: Tie between Marque and Slim
Most Fun: The guy in the black wetsuit...

See past G-Spot recaps here and here.

Police - Message in a Bottle

Toyz for Toobz

Today I uncovered an amazing subculture on youtoob: videos of remote control surfers. Brocrastinating (as usual), I pushed the play button and my jaw dropped. Part of me wonders if the video is fake, part of me wonders how a stupid plastic toy can surf so well, and the other part ponders if music can be any more "farfengroovin" than the soundtrack provided by "Natural Aphrodisiac." At any rate, this could be may fastest route to getting a spitting barrel, if my progression as a surfer continues to skid like it has this winter!

Red House Painters - Revelation Big Sur

White on White

My new board just made an appearance on The Swallowtail Society yesterday. As with anything Manuel Caro makes, it looks like pure magic. I shudder to think of the ledges this will inspire me to throw myself over.

6'7" Mandala Round Pin Quad
20" x 2.5"
Lokbox AK4 fins
Tapered red cedar stringer
Moonlight Glassing
Clear, wet-sanded gloss (So CORE!)

Thanks to all who contributed to last year's birthday board fund, and to Manny, who's a great guy and an amazing shaper.

MGMT - Time to Pretend

Sissy Wish

This is the time of year when you start looking at old travel photos and wishing you were somewhere warmer and drier, with more consistent waves and less consistent internet connections. Somewhere like this...







Yes, there is a band called SISSY WISH. And yes, they are pretty damn good. Weird.

Doing Dora Justice

It seems like the only time I get to fixate on surfing these days
is when I'm reading a magazine on the toilet in the morning.

Yesterday during my daily ritual, I read in the most recent SURFER
that a new Miki Dora biography is being released in April.

An interview with the author revealed that the film rights to the
book have already been optioned by Leonardo DiCaprio's production
company. I believe the author described playing Dora as a "plum role."
He went on to say that he thought DiCaprio was a great person to
play the part.

Don't get me wrong. I think Leonardo is a fine actor who has come
a very long way since his early films. I also believe that Leo is a really
great guy who is actually concerned with the fate of the environment.

But I really don't think he's the right guy to play Dora.

From everything I've read, it seems like Dora was charismatic, dark,
sarcastic, tough, sly, mysterious, complex, bitter, charming, mean,
crazy, and -- perhaps most importantly -- an incredible surfer.

Just because DiCaprio has played a con-artist before, doesn't mean
he has what it takes to do Miki Dora justice on celluloid. Though he's
capable of playing a goof-ball and a heart-throb, I don't see him
pulling off wearing a Nazi trench coat and helmet to play tennis in
Beverly Hills and chaining his sports car to a pole in the parking lot
(or something like that).

Let alone being able to surf.

It would require some serious Frankie Avalon-style CGI to make Leo
look like he can surf, or even carry a surfboard from the car to the sand in Malibu convincingly.

But that's just one man's opinion. I've selected a few actors who I do think might be able to handle the part and posted them below Dora's headshot...

Miki Dora











Mark Ruffalo











Jake Gyllenhaal











Josh Brolin






Jason Patric











Casey Affleck








If you had a say, who would you cast? Or would you just scrap the whole project and leave 'Da Cat 'da hell alone?

I Wish I Could Do That

Two guys are walking down the street and they pass an old dog splayed out on the sidewalk, licking his balls.

"I wish I could do that," says one dude to the other.

The second guy answers, "You probably can if you pet him first..."

***

Though the intro is dorky, the tricks in this video are the dog's bollocks!

OUTSIDE!

We didn't even have time to say it. Everybody was too busy jockeying for the shifty head-high-plus peaks to notice a dark line advancing from the horizon. After all, the buoys were only reading 6 feet, so -- more than anything -- we were all just stoked that so much swell had found its way into a break that normally knocks size off.

Sitting way outside, I'd just caught a great one that had the guys on the inside hooting as I made the drop, bottom turn, and set up for the racetrack that rolled and reformed several times before ending 100 yards or so to the north. At that point, thinking I had it dialed, I was probably one of the farthest guys out.

I spotted a bend on the otherwise flat blue line that marks the "end of the earth" and started paddling casually out to sea, not wanting to alert the whole lineup that a set wave was on its way. As it progressively grew, my strokes grew faster. In a matter of only a few seconds, I realized that the wave was standing up and feathering already, 30 yards in front of me. I kept scratching, though I knew I'd never make it out the back.

All surfers have faced dilemma: Is it better to paddle hard toward the maelstrom when a sneaker set is about to drop the hammer, or just sit and wait for it to lose a little power before facing a wall of whitewater? Thinking of the sandbars inside that had been delivering punchy waves all morning, I reasoned that the foamball would still be heavy, so I kept paddling.

As the first wave of the set slammed down, I did my best to hang onto my board, but it was ripped from my grip. The hold-down wasn't horrible, but when I emerged, a second wave had already broken behind it. I looked behind me and saw a few tombstones way inside and knew it was safe for me to swim for the bottom. This happened about five times in a row.

From that point on, the session was somewhat dicey. The clean inside waves were still there, but the temptation to grab a bomb on the outside -- and avoid being caught inside again -- kept me a little too safe. I caught one huge one and got bounced off by the chop. The end.

Back on the shore as we changed, Foul Pete told me that he checked the Tillamook buoys that morning and they read 13 feet at 13 seconds, so the jump in swell wasn't a complete bolt from the blue.

The pics above are somewhat deceptive. You have to blow them up to see the size (the guys caught inside give them perspective), since I couldn't get a shot with anybody riding.

Six-Outta-Ten

There was so much anticipation building up to the weekend. You could just tell that Sunday was going to be good: The buoys beckoned with 8-feet-at-13-sec readings that morning. We spot-checked a few places before settling on the old standby. But when we got to the cove, it didn't look all that. There seemed to be a secondary swell that either flattened the waves or cause it to jack up and close out inside.

Should we hightail it back to spot number one? We didn't really have time. So Gee and I said screw it and found a log on the beach to throw our stuff on. We changed fast and I snapped the photo above before finding a rip and paddling out. It wasn't as "meh" as it looked from the cliff above (it never is). Sets were shoulder-to-head and pretty glassy, but it was incredibly shifty and the bigger waves tended to shut down in one booming curtain call.

The conditions got even more challenging as the tide dropped and we both went over the falls on waves we underestimated the speed/steepness of. We changed peaks and were sufficiently humbled when a longboarder pulled into a right-hand tube and shot out completely dry.

Another hour passed.

"One and done" was the decision with three hours and a few decent waves under our belts, but nothing to write home about. Then, a rare a-frame peak almost seemed to weave past the guys on the outside and feather right in front of me. I snagged it, dropping in at a hard angle and making tracks, hearing a tunnelish echo right over my back shoulder. Goddammit, I'm outrunning tubes again. Why can't I just drag a hand or do a little wheelie to slow down in the heat of the moment?

On the way home, Gee asked what I'd rank the day.

"Six out of ten."

By the evening, as we sipped margaritas with sunburned faces and went over each wave in detail--coming to terms with the fact that another big winter storm was approaching--that number magically changed to seven.

Why You Shouldn't Surf PC

I received my first submission to the blog last week in an email cryptically titled "Pacific Simian." A guy who simply goes by "Hunter" wondered if he's the only one who sees King Kong in the monolith outside the line-up. I'd never noticed that before, but after seeing the shot I saw another picture of PC and sure enough, the silhouette looked just like the great ape.

His second image was even more disturbing...


Looks like there's going to be some good surf this weekend. Hope you all get some!

Ready... Set... WHERE'S THE SURF?

This homeless dude with an heirloom tomato nose approached as we struggled into our wetsuits.

"You're surfing?" he inquired, his breath smelling vintage 3am. "Ain't it cold?"

Yes, we answered.

He looked over the cliff, down to where we were planning to do our thing. It was so well-protected from the storm surf that it was hardly working. A longboarder bunny-hopped along, trying to milk some momentum from a slow-roller.

"Not much going on down there," he said. "Ever heard of Sandy Beach in Hawaii? I used to body surf that place a long time ago." The odor was really bad -- the kind of sour twang that reminded you of long-forgotten pickle jars. "I seen a lot of guys get hurt there."

We nodded.

"Well, have fun and don't freeze!" he said. "It's like you get all suited up, climb down, get in the water, and just sit out there. It's like: Ready... Set... WHERE'S THE SURF?"

Then, right on queue, he spun around and hopped onto a city bus that had just rolled into the parking lot.

True story.

Note: We actually DID surf, and had a decent time. Pictures are all of the spots that we didn't tempt fate at on Sunday... The second to the last one reminds me of Sasquatch.

DOWNSTAIRS

velvet underground . ..... .... ..... sunday morning ..... ... ... .. .

...........SOJOURN...........

Heaven on Earth = A full day surfing head-high waves followed by sitting in a hot tub, beer in hand, looking through the window at my wife and baby. Hanging out with my wife, baby boy, and best friends, drinking good wine, watching football in the afternoon, even playing a little Guitar Hero...

We spent the whole holiday weekend at the beach. It was my first time back in the water in three months. Saturday was really disheartening, surf-wise -- I couldn't even make the paddle out and had to forfeit, belly in, and run to the rip. When I finally did, the waves were doo-doo anyway. I got skunked and seriously questioned whether I would be able to keep surfing if my conditioning was this bad.

Sunday was redemption. Big, bowly lefts (and even a few powerful rights). I was a glutton because I had a whole peak to myself, and I'd just cruise back to the rip after each ride, again and again. My final wave was an outside bomb; I heard OS hooting, after which he said it looked about head-and-a-half high.

Monday was freezing. Waist-high peelers that petered out pretty quick. Only 4 guys in the water at 9am and one managed to get my way. I tried to fade down below him and clipped the tail of his board. My Skip Frye Flex Fin left a long gash from rail to stringer on his board... His tail left a new 12-inch long channel down the middle of mine.

It was an amazing weekend though, and one the whole family plans on replicating soon and often!




Pictures are all from the day we're now calling "Super-Bowly Sunday" (two weeks early).

Foghat - Slow Ride (Guitar Hero Version)

Better Luck Next Time

Deep North, not exactly corduroy...













Gee's first surf trip since moving back from LA
and he already looks like an Oregon crusty.













Maybe if I shoot the picture at just the right
moment, it'll look inviting... nope.













Five of us piled in the Econoline and guess
who had to ride in the carseat? There's something
poetic/just plain silly about the fact that this is
where I ended up sitting on my first surf trip since
becoming a dad. Hazing ritual? Maybe. But it was
pretty comfy and felt safer than sitting on a stack
of boards in the back of the cargo van.

Long story short, we didn't even get wet. We had
a few beers and huffed some salty air though.
And that was good.

I can pretty much guarantee that next time will be better...

Slim Gaillard - Laguna

TACKLEBUSTED!

There once was a contest at Nelscott Reef,
The lack of local invitees caused quite a beef,
2008 came in like lion,
Nelscott's green light was flyin',
But the "big names" bailed for Mavericks...
GOOD GRIEF!

Rumor has it that the contest isn't even happening this weekend now. Can anybody confirm that? I was planning on checking it out tomorrow. Here's a pic I snapped at last year's event...

Decades Gone By

Does anybody remember the old Surfer Magazine interviews in the 1980s that asked people like Tom Curren and Martin Potter what their favorite music was? I distinctively recall Neil Young's Harvest and David Bowie's Alladin Sane among the lists. Of course, as a 15-year-old kid who just discovered Duran Duran, those picks fell on ears that were either deaf or full of day-glo Zinka.

Last weekend I downloaded the whole album Decade (Young's, not Duran Duran's) and I feel like I just uncovered a rare jewel. A lot of the songs are familiar, as they would be to any child of the '70s, but many are as fresh and relevant as anything Pitchfork reviewed last year. Everything old is new again. At least to me.

Neil Young - A Man Needs a Maid
Emily Haines - A Maid Needs a Maid