Tag Archives: talkin’ story

Swell + Fish = Radtacular

By Ed Fladung | January 15, 2010

ATL Fish
ATL Fish

After my hull sojourn, I spent the last two days back on the new fish. The height on yesterday’s waves required the nimble, lush curves of something of the twin keel variety. I know I say this periodically, but daaamn! if I didn’t have one of the best sessions of my life yesterday. no joke.

It was the kind of session filled with heavy drops, the ones where the lip breaks over your head on the way down and you shoot out of the forming tube, water in your eyes, only to find a big, huge face to carve on and right back at the foaming mouth. Who says you can’t thread-the-needle on a fish? Done. Inside section, walling up, crouch, to mini-tube? Boom!

Yesterday I felt like Superman. I could do anything. And that surreal feeling, knowing you’re having one of the best sessions of your life, was punctuated by one of the most beautiful sunsets, the kind I spend years trying to capture on camera.

You know when you love something so much and you just can’t let it go? It’s like when you’re a kid and you love the kitten so much, you squeeze it to death?

Today I went back out to home break, hoping for a redux. No such luck. Wave heights had dropped dramatically, the wait between sets was comical and the line-up way too crowded. I caught one wave, albeit a really nice ride with a few nice carves. But only one wave. I spent the rest of the time, jockeying for position and sliding down the backside of the smallish waves. So frustrating. Such a contrast to the day before.

Time is running, running and passing, passing and running….

Posted in surfing | Also tagged , , | 3 Comments

This Is Not A Funboard

By Ed Fladung | January 13, 2010

Liddle KP 7'4
Liddle KP 7'4

If all boards are female and require a name, I’m calling her La Navaja (the razor), she’s sharp and she’s got crazy curves, you could say they’re almost French. Despite her template outline, she is definitely not a funboard.

Late last week some swell started to fill in our area and I was finally able to get the Liddle into the water. I had four days of back-to-back sessions, with Monday night’s sunset session the first of the incoming northwester that’s been pounding California all week. So basically, I had three days to get up and running on the hull, before some real waves pounded us. Riding the hull has been like learning to surf all over again, albeit with a real steep yet short learning curve.

My first session was humbling to the core, the first few drops, she literally bucked me. I spooned the nose into the water on another drop. and after I got the nack of getting up, my crude weight shifting (meant for rounder rails) would sink the bladed rails into the water and the board would slice through the backside of the wave as it went by. The lack of volume on the rails, combined with the board’s length, 7′4″, at first made the board seem really ridged.

After a few tries, I was finally able to make the drop and set the rail. People often talk about hulls having four gears. I’m pretty sure I was able to get her to at least the third gear, as I was hauling ass on a few waves, able to connect sections of my home break that are almost always un-makeable.

My skill level rose as my confidence rose and by the third session, I was starting to get the hang of the backside turn using the rail. Riding a hull, the movements are much more subtle than a normal board and instead of riding from the tail, you’re mostly using your toes and heels, to guide your weight from side to side.

The fourth session was the banger. A nice mellow swell starting to hit. Head to overhead sets. Those drops were a wholly new experience, as La Navaja has speed like I’ve never seen before, though I’m still unable to get her to really spray buckets. By this session, my legs were surer and I really felt the trim in the more walled up sections of the wave. I even got a head dip or two.

Once you get the drop and set the line, there’s a feeling to riding a hull that I can only compare to riding the nose of a longboard, except you’re not on the nose. Some people describe this as feeling as if you are surfing with the wave, as opposed to against it, like a shortboard. I definitely draw parallels to nose riding, it has a floating sensation. There is no need for pumping or trying to maintain speed, it feels as if you are in tune with the wave.

Hulls love walled up, flawless machine-like point breaks and admittedly, I’m not riding those. My home break is an a-framey Sunset Beach kinda break, but after four solid days of riding this thing, I can honestly say, I love it. I love the feeling it has and I love the newness of it all.

I’m looking forward to the next swell that should be hitting our shores this weekend. I’ll take La Navaja up to The Mexican Malibu to see if I can get her into fourth gear and to test the theory floated by the naysayers that say that hulls can’t get into barrels.

Posted in surfing | Also tagged , , , | 5 Comments

California Early Warning System

By Ed Fladung | July 23, 2009

droppin bombs
floaters
adam
carve
in the white

Me: I don’t wanna hype the swell or jinx it for all the Californians waxing up their boards and getting plenty or rest in preparation for this weekend’s swell, but if you guys get anything like what I saw today, you won’t have to worry about the faceless hordes gumming up your favorite surf breaks, the only people who’ll be in the water are the hard to the core. This swell is freaking huge.

You: Wait… How huge?

Me: Like, I could have amnesia or something, but I feel that today I saw the largest surfable wave I have ever seen with my own two eyes. That big. Easily triple overhead. To give it a decent height, maybe 15 feet? I’m pretty sure the guys in the water would say 20, but let’s not get carried away. It was gianormous.

You: Holy Shit!

Me: Yes, it was an epic day.

I was out at my favorite ledgy point break by 9am. Nice chest high waves, with ungodly long waits in between the overhead cleanup sets. This was the kind of session where you spend the entire lull saying I’m gonna take the next one in, the set comes and they are so nicely groomed and walled up, you just can’t bring yourself to go in. For their size, we’re used to chunky storm swell caused by nearby hurricanes, it was a nice change. I could see another of my favorites breaks in the distance getting pounded, with one lone surfer out. At around 1:00pm or so, after feeling victimized by the mid-day mexican summer sun, I grudgingly paddled in. Walking back to the car, I got a wild hair to go check out that other break, I had the camera in the car.

This is a surf spot that breaks perilously close to an outcropping of boulders and grinds along a shallow bed of rocks and sea urchins. This spot has rarely more than 2 or 3 people surfing it at a time. The wave is a pretty technical tube ride that breaks in a bowl pattern, never really giving you an exit. You either ditch early, pull out Hawaiian style, or dive under the lip, hoping you don’t get pulled back into the rock battlefield. People have horror stories about this break. I showed up to see rows of waves coming in, overhead plus. One guy in the water. As I took photos over the course of an hour or so, the sets just got bigger and bigger. Soon enough there were five surfers in the water and the sets were coming every 3-4 minutes like clockwork and large cleanup sets coming every 15-20 minutes.

When my local homies Tzahui and Birri arrived, I debated stashing the camera and braving the thick foam for some olitas buenas. That’s when everyone started scratching for the horizon. It was huge. Not a single person made it out to where the wave broke. And it came in like a solid, moving wall of water. In classic surf-storytelling fashion, I didn’t get this wave on film1. I was too busy pushing my eyeballs back into their sockets. The next wave in the set was slightly smaller, but to see someone float over it, it was like a two story house, so big and fast that the surfers brave enough to attempt it couldn’t even get up the speed to get into it. They just glided over the top, backwards.

This swell is supposed to hit fever-pitch in the middle of the night and tomorrow should be a killer day. Sack up, Californians, the big boys are on the move….

More shots to come, when I can properly lift my arms again.

  1. er, um, flash card ↩
Posted in my photos, surfing | Also tagged , , | 4 Comments

Heaven & Hell

By Ed Fladung | July 18, 2009

Two sessions: one a golden sunset with nice waves the ideal version of surfer heaven, and two the constant attack of sea lice stings interspersed with mush-hopping session only to end with the white-heat pain of a stingray love tap.

Last night I dragged the log out to the north coast fully expecting some small but nice waves. I brought along the chipper only because I’d just received in the mail a set of H2 replacements for the ones that were nicked along with my old chipper, last fall, down south. I was pleasantly surprised to find some decent swell pushing into my favorite right point break, the hollow, ledgy one. I spent the sunset sliding my brains out on chest-high, hollow rollers with the new fin setup pushing me down the line.

It was another beautiful Mexican summer sunset, no clouds to be seen at all, just color gradients galore. Photoshop: you ain’t got nuttin on mutha nature. The light was perfect and the waves juicy. It was one of the best, mellow, wicked sessions I’ve had in a long time. Not for the quantity of waves, nor for the sheer ripability, rather just for the combo of solid, beautiful waves and unreal scenery. I was in my version of heaven.

I caught a large set wave in, almost catching a millisecond of tube time or at least a quickie head duck. As I exited the waning wave, I caught two ‘malaguas’1 to the face, I was unperturbed with the stoke-juice running through my veins. I paddled in, vowing to return in the morning, hoping for a sublime repeat.

This morning, I slogged my face out of bed at 7am. Kissed my girl and the boy, jumbled into the car and headed back out for Round Two. As I swam toward a nearly empty lineup I got hit by several malaguas. By the time I made it out to the break, I had several groupings of malagua stings on my arms and neck. I shrugged it off. Yesterday’s glory not to be repeated, the sets were much smaller and more ‘aguada’2, with an occasionally nice small, not very maneuverable ride. I tried to enjoy it regardless. After each wave, I knew I’d be swimming through a minefield of malaguas and each time I made it back to the lineup I was itching myself like a monkey with a severe case of lice. I counted thirty stings on my left arm alone. I toughed it out for an hour or so and finally caught a mush-hopper and headed in.

I picked my board up in the knee deep, sand-strewn shore break and brought my left foot down on the sand only to feel a lightning bolt of blistering pain hit the back of my heel, just above the callused part. I limped out of the water, cursing and yelling. My foot was bleeding steadily. It was a small stingray sting3 and the wound radiated with pulsating white-heat burning sensation. I tried my best to shrug off and joke with the two other guys from the lineup. I grabbed my gear and huffed it down the beach. I had a kilometer long walk back to the car to get through. As I made my way down the beach I could feel the pain starting to radiate out into my foot and leg. I was having visions of poison tracking its way up my leg. By the time I was half-way down the beach my left hip joint was aching, it was getting harder to walk. I encountered my friend Jorge on the jungle road. I feebly recounted the story in cold sweat, slurring my words in a detached fit of lightheadedness hidden behind polarized sunglasses. He looked at my strangely and asked me if I needed help, I faintly declined, waved him off and kept going. When I finally got to the car the lightheadedness was gone. I cranked the a/c and waited for five minutes or so, just to be on the safe side.

Back at home I took a cold shower and surveyed the carnage. There were malagua stings all over my torso, upper body, neck and arms. I stopped counting at around 100. My hip no longer hurt and the radius of the pain was limited to the sting area, but the pulsating sting still felt fresh and undeterred. I showed Marcia the bites and sting and we were off to the local doctor, the one who prescribes antibiotics like now-n-laters. The Doc looked at the bites and frowned, suck it up was the general gist. The sting was a different story. He cleaned the wound and injected painkiller into the cut area and tried to prescribe me a very expensive antibiotic which I declined to fill.

Two sessions: one heaven and one hell.

Incidentally, I’m still not sure what hit me. I’m thinking it was a ray, as I read that skates dont sting. And the feeling I got in my hip joint definitely wasn’t psychosomatic. But when I talked to him about the stingray poison. He shrugged it off, saying that skates don’t have poison and the sting from a ray would be much more powerful. Who’s got the real info?

  1. people often refer to malaguas or more properly ‘aguamalas’ (bad waters?) which is a blanket term for all forms of Jellyfish. They are also thought to be Sea Lice, but that’s a misnomer as well, they are actually a parasite referred to as “Swimmer’s Itch” ↩
  2. mushy ↩
  3. not sure if it was a stingray or skatefish ↩
Posted in surfing | Also tagged , | 3 Comments

A Healthy Respect.

By Ed Fladung | July 3, 2009

The Surfer’s Journal recently posted this clip on vimeo:

Vintage footage from late surf photography pioneer, Warren Bolster. Warren was a camera board developer as well as a renowned surf and skateboarding documentarian. He is featured in The Surfer’s Journal Masters of Surf Photography, Volume 3.

I’ve been lurking on Warren Bolster’s photos on the internets recently, getting to know more of his work, delving into it. So it was a surprise to run into the above clip. I really connect with Bolster’s proper fear of the ocean and waves. It’s interesting to hear a legendary surf photographer talking about their fear of the ocean. I have a similar fear, but I call it “a healthy respect”. I’ve always had this respect and when I’m being dragged down after taking one on the head, I often have visions of drowning.

My mom likes to tell a story, one which I have no recollection of, it goes something like this:

Back in like the late 70s, my mom, my sister and I were out in California visiting family (I grew up in NY). My sis was less than a year old and I was probably around two or three. We were at the beach, I think somewhere near Pebble Beach. I was playing in the shallows and moms was with my sister farther up the beach. A freak tsunami crept in and was starting to consume me. Mom was panicked and before she knew what was happening I was gone, underwater, and the tide line was quickly rising all the way up to where she was sitting. She no idea how to keep both of us from drowning. Just then, some bronzed surf god ran out of nowhere to the exact spot where I was playing, reached into the murky water and pulled me out by my long blonde hair and deposited me on to dry land. And before my mom could thank him, he disappeared. Mom likes to say it was “God” rescuing me (she’s not particularly religious) and even though I have no recollection of the event, I’m not sure if this is the cause for my deep respect of the turbulent ocean.

Posted in daily links, surfing | Also tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

Double-Digit Corduroy

By Ed Fladung | June 16, 2009

corduroyphoto by Ed Fladung

My shaper homies Marco & Amy are in town for a few days and today we got together for a morning session at the local triedntrue. We were expecting some heavy swell this past weekend but it turned out to be another infamous phantom swell. Not enough west in the fast moving southie, swings right past us on its way to Cabo, this weekend was criminally dumb flat. I was gonna grab the longboard and last second made a switch for the singlefin egg. We got to the beach just in time to see perfect head-high A-frames coming in, glassy, lined up like corduroy almost double-digit deep. What a surprise!

I’ve been riding the fish religiously for the past few months. I’ve really grown to love it. I bought it almost 5 years ago and rode it off and on, as an alternative to the shortboards I usually ride. Over the past few months, I’ve learned how to really turn the fish on, I can ride it almost like a shortboard, even for a twin keel. The fish is on its last legs. It’s more ding plug, now, than actual board. Every time I try to fix one of the broken tails, just the pressure of its own weight while standing the board vertical breaks them again. And it’s starting to de-lam in several places, in some spots it feels “squishy”. Marco is taking the fish back to the lab to shape a “son of the fish” with the same exact dims. I’m thinking of putting some Marlin Bacon 101 bamboo fins on it, glass-on of course.

Meanwhile, back at the spot I was surfing the singlefin egg for the first time in a few odd months and in head-high conditions. My first few waves were skittery, skatey and unsure. Kookville, as my legs were stuck in more of a shortboard stance as my back foot reached for the tail and the board skitted all over in jittery, unflattering carves. I finally remembered that you can’t sit on the tail of the singlefin, you gotta walk it. So I moved up the board, feet almost together and slotted the rail in the wave and the singlefin lit up. My turns were long, deep and sure with the rail pitted, the singlefin loves it when my weight is in the middle of the board. I used every foot of the deck, walking up and back to adjust to the part of the wave. I even had a killer floater as two wave sections collided. I kinda reconnected with the idea that each board has its own experience and requires different skills. Each board has its own feel, my surf stoke hit eleven.

Marco has been experimenting in the lab with parabolic epoxy boards. Today he was riding what I call “The Crazy”, a 6′2″ carbon-fiber, epoxy-core, parabolic stringer, bat-tail, quad with FCS CRV fins installed. Marco has a checkered flag/hot-rod design theme on it, but I thought it should have a picture of some wolf man on the bottom, pure lab-generated monster. We switched boards mid-way through the session and I got to try “The Crazy”. It took a few minutes to get used to the thinness of the deck, much less foam than I’ve been riding lately. But man this board hums down the line. I struggled to properly place my back foot with no traction pad to guide me, but when I hit the sweet spot my carves were juicy. The quad set-up felt like I had a mini outboard motor pushing me along, this board is fast. I dropped in to one wave only to see it closing out, as I hit the whitewater I boasted a big fatty air to floater (that probably means a tiny little mini-air to floater), and dropped six feet or so to the bottom of the colliding sections. Stoked again.

Back on the beach, I grabbed the camera and snapped photos of various peoples, boards, etc… I met this old school surfer crony, his name is Ricardo and people call him “Abuelo” (grand-dad). He knocks jokes back a mile a minute and held the award for the weirdest board award. Ricardo was riding a foam-top he probably bought at Sam’s Club and hacked it from 8 feet to 6 and moved the fins to about an inch from the hacked-off tail (which was never properly sealed). The fins were too small, so he made larger fin casings out of bleach-bottle plastic and literally sowed them with wire and bolted them on to the fins underneath. The board looked like a frankenstein version of a mini-sims. Ricardo totally ripped on the board like a longboard pro and he says he likes the foam top because of the hard bottom edges. I got a bunch of good portraits of Ricardo and his board. But I’m telling you all of this instead of showing you, because after shooting a roll of film, back at the house when I went to eject the roll of film, I opened up the camera to find no film inside. Awesome Dude!

Overall, a killer session minus one total noob screw-up.

Posted in surfing | Also tagged , , | 1 Comment

Cosmic Micro Slides

By Ed Fladung | June 1, 2009

sunset over vallartaphoto by Ed Fladung

Three sojourners in need of trim, we cased the flat ocean for signs of bumps. Hombreros in boches passing us going the other way, yelling “you’re only going to be disappointed”. But we looked and found in the unlikeliest of places, cosmic micro slides, comedically micro cosmic yet exactly what we needed. Longboarding of the leash-less variety, each of us gave our pound of flesh to the low-tide reef and at least one getting the never ending gift of sea urchin kisses. Horizontal bliss. and the sunset was glorious.

Posted in life in mexico, my photos | Also tagged , , | 2 Comments

La Michoacan Rewind

By Ed Fladung | December 20, 2008

 

I just got back from a few days down in La Michoacan. After my last visit turned into a crash and burn situation quickly after my board was stolen the first night, this time was completely the opposite, thankfully so – I enjoyed the best two days of surfing I’ve had in a long time. Small waves, lack of currents and moderate day time temps combined for two solid days of sliding madness. It’s been dead, dead, dead up here in the bahia de banderas for the past two months or so and just two days is all it takes to put me right again. This surf trip was final hoorah of sorts for me, as next weekend we head up to Guadalajara for a month or so to await the imminent arrival of our baby boy. My next surf trip will be as a proud father, with little surf gnar gnar in tow. This trip started the way all good mexican surf trips should start: with a flat tire.

Half-way thru the five and a half hour drive some guy behind me flashed his lights, pointing at my back right tire. I pulled the truck over to see one nice fat flat. As luck would have it, I was in a caravan with my friends Pau and Salim. We quickly deduced that the spare tire I was carrying didn’t fit1, so they whisked the flat off to find a “llantera”. 20 minutes later and $7, they were back with my tire, impeccably fixed. We were on our way. In Tecoman, we stopped off for street tacos in the square, seven tacos for $2.50.

I ♥ Mexico. 

We arrived to the camp site at around 8:30pm or so and our first night’s sleep was accented by orchestral sounds of two very different kinds coming from the two groups on either side of us: the Chihuahua party guys to the left, with their multiple snoring styles – a mariachi of cerveza snores. And the L.A. actor/surfer crowd on the right with their game of “who can make the loudest orgasm sounds” – I counted moans from three different tents. With the combined sounds from left and right, swallowing my pillow was all I could do to stop from laughing2. Our group had some awesome recollections, the next morning in the water. 

The next two days were filled with mellow, current-less morning and afternoon sessions, marked by relatively clear warm water, jumping manta rays and mini-tubes and head-ducks. We picked one of the six or seven different points and just sat and waited our turns. I grabbed wave after wave, nice small waves, but enough power to avoid mush hopping the shortboard, though I did wish I had brought the single fin and the longboard. It was that kind of party. The local community must have banded together to get the security situation in check, after my board being stolen3, there were boards strewn about the various camping spots – always a good sign that people are at ease and makes for a less guarded stay.

What pressed me most was how different this trip was from my past few trips. I usually find time to get down here in the summer and early fall months. Storm season. Summer trips are usually a trial by fire as you fight the rocky coastline to be pummeled by heavy currents, brown run-off water and massive, powerful open ocean battering. Gnar gnar groms from local areas and Guadalajara whistle you off and generally make things heavier than they already are. Once you get out, your feet are jammed by the rocks and an occasional urchin and then fried by the burning sand. Back at camp you roast in sweltering mid-day winds being blown off the hot sand.

In the winter, it’s a completely different kind of place. Mellow vibe, casual surf ethic, long stay gringo families with their insanely customized surf vehicles, fantastical packing skills and elegantly decorated camping niches – makeshift dedicated ding repair tents and kids writing essays in their hammocks. Days are bearable, the sand warm but not flesh melting, the water perfect, the river almost entirely clear and cold and the nights are really cold4. The vibe in the water is still business, but a silent camaraderie punctured with kook hoos and hahs from your neighbors as you slip into a wave and grab nanoseconds of head-duck. Out in the water I spotted the definitive seashell Mandala logo on a gorgeous sea-foam green twin-keel fish, a welcomed change to the usual stock white ripper sticks.

I took both cameras, the digi and the 645 film jammy and ended up taking four rolls of medium format. I never touched the digi. The film will soon be off to NYC for developing and scanning and will eventually find its way on to this here blog thingy. We pulled out of campsite after a long relaxing breakfast of chilaquiles and coffee, while watching a group catching several second long crouching tube rides in the beach break. Awesome.

Fin.

This post was brought to you by: Jason Collett – Out of Time

  1. my original spare was stolen from under my truck sometime shortly after I brought the truck into Mexico, not an uncommon occurrence. If you have an externally located spare tire, make sure to padlock it. ↩
  2. note to self: bring audio recording device next time. ↩
  3. and a few other incidents I’ve heard about, that happened just after ↩
  4. relatively speaking, of course ↩
Posted in surfing | Also tagged , , | 3 Comments

The Classic Summer Session

By Ed Fladung | September 8, 2008

All wave reports point to strong swell in the Vallarta area. After yesterday’s non-starter (no swell at all at The Usual Beach Break™ but word of overhead at Saint Frank1) to this morning’s alright-but-not-the-best session, a call from George in the late afternoon sent me scrambling for Holi break.

This afternoon was the quintessential Vallarta stormy summer surf session. Heavy, thick grey clouds and a wicked rain storm, drops clearing four inches of bounce off the stain-glassy water. Big rolling arced lumps coming into the rivermouth break, hitting the sandbars and jacking up to head-high hollow tubes. The water: a mix of gritty/brown/cold/chocolate milk/Hep-B river run-off and the sweet dark green/Mexican Pacific Coast/Bahia de Banderas bath water. The green/chocolate room was in full-effect.

I paddled out past the muck line and sat on the shoulder for a while watching barrel after barrel. All kinds of tube jammies: head ducks, crouches, no exits, super-crouches, revolcadas etc. The barrel was cavernous and fast. 20-30 odd surfers and boogieboarders, each one jammed to the gills with stokage. All manners of hoots, hollers, ‘cabrones’, ‘putas’, ‘vergas’ and any other mexican derogatory shouting you can think of.

I sacked up and got myself into a no-exit barrel or two and had a really nice overhead drop to crouched stall, the force of the barrel right behind me, propelling my board forward. Not quite inside, but no less fulfilling. I had several drop-ins and completely missing the wave as it blew past me. I couldn’t quite get enough sack to drop in early and pitch myself under the heaving lip and fast enough to get myself out, but despite the wave’s heaviness, I took no heavy beatings.

This is the kind of day you wait for. It comes out of the blue. You know there’s swell somewhere, it’s just not at the local break. And then you get the call. Tires screeching, almost-unsafe passing2 and a few hours of the most insanely awesome super-stoked surfing in the world, complemented by a gorgeous stormy summer day.

Two not-so-cool cappers to a fine day: 1) duck diving and surfacing near a dead, floating mouse and catching the “death” smell and wandering what’s been entering my nasal cavities for the last two hours 2) While fumbling in the dark to put the board back in the truck – cracking the tail of my thruster on the truck door, over head, and in “automatic protective response” hitting the nose on the ground, breaking off a good half-inch of fiberglass, wood and foam off the nose, ouch.

Still, an amazing day. I am a happy camper, now to the ding kit…

  1. do the math ↩
  2. come on, we’re havin’ a kid, we’re driving with a little more patience now. ↩
Posted in surfing | Also tagged | 1 Comment

Points North | Surf There Now

By Ed Fladung | August 9, 2008

northern points
photo by Evan Asano

Evan at Surf There Now has a killer post: Points North – Surf Exploration In Northern Sumatra

The swell finally arrives. We wake up at dawn at a renowned surf break, a “secret spot” our guides insists that we keep unnamed. We are mesmerized by surf perfection. Waves start more than a mile out from our anchorage, open up wide on the shallow reef in a blue barrel and reel across it in beautiful groomed lines. There are few waves in the world that break with this consistency and length.

For the next two days we surf until we can’t any more. The wave has broken two of our boards and torn the fins off of two others. We’ve been spun on wipe-outs to the point of not knowing up from down and been dragged across the sharp reef. We are sunburned, chafed, and exhausted. By the time the swell subsides, we’re too spent to surf anymore. It’s everything we’ve traveled across the world for.

I dream of shit like this constantly. Awesome! and it made for a great ‘morning cereal and coffee’ read. The article and accompanying photos are published in recently shuttered Everywhere mag1. Thanks Evan!

  1. what a shame! ↩
Posted in daily links | Also tagged , , | 3 Comments