Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Executive Order

Good Lord, the shit's been busy lately. Trips in all compass directions and altitudes. Earthquakes. Two-wheeler-and-ice-cream adventures. Storm tracks and hurricanes and back-to-school sweats and shorter days and the first hints of the miraculous golden light of fall.
And through this, of course, the waves keep coming. Cold ones and warm ones and sharp pointy ones and slow thick ones that spread themselves over the reefs and sandbars like peanut butter.
And people want to ride on these waves on surfboards, and those boards have to be shaped. And the great, watery world keeps on spinning.
Speaking of shaped boards, here's Brent's new Executive (9'10), with insane artwork by local shredder/artist Blair Tom. If you've been to Bolinas, or if you're cool, you're familiar with Blair's work. You can dig deeper into Blair's creations, inspired by the first nations of the Pacific Northwest, HERE.

If you've surfed Bodega Bay, you're familiar with Brent, who catches lots of waves. If you're really familiar with Brent, you've learned to seek a second opinion when he texts, IT'S TOTALLY EPIC! GET TO S____N RIGHT NOW AND BLAST IT!!!!!!

His new stick, The Executive, is my interpretation of the Hobie Phile Edwards model (seen HERE), in a contemporary Northern California beachbreak setting.
Its standard features--triple stringer, glass-on fin, rounded pintail, pulled nose, slightly rolled entry to a panel vee off the tail--inspire Edwards-stile trim, glide, and mojo. The updated rocker, foil, and rails, however, give it the goods in juicier surf.
One might ask, Does it noseride?
To which the Executive would reply, Who gives a F*&c? Leave the obsessive, terrier-like running-to-the-nose to the young whippersnappers, and instead focus on the sweet, sweet pleasures of the rear 1/3rd of the board. The high-line finding, pocket protecting, curl seeking, steezy style-making aquatic engine zone of the whole goddamn thing.
Clearly, the Executive is a gentleman's surfboard, and should be enjoyed with a gentleman's beverage.
Recommended Pairing: I recommend enjoying the Executive with a dram of Aberlour A'Bunadh. Smooth, classic, stylish--a lush, golden complement for a board that should take you into your golden years of surfing with power, grace, and a pretty solid buzz.
Salud!

Friday, July 18, 2014

Stripes and Stripes Forever

9'2 Bronson for my old buddy, Mark.

Mark and I met in 1985 and, like most kids, we explored the poles of the teenage experience to define our own identities--we were skaters, slackers, authority challengers, artists. We were writers, scholars, philosophers, dudes who flirted with each others' sisters. We were off-the-gridders, dirt bags, pretty boys, climbers, surfers, journalists, lady-crazed Jewbags, monks, walkers, bikers, boaters, shut-ins, fly fishermen, mountain towners, club kids, river guides, musicians.
Interestingly, the middle ground we've reached thirty years later, each on our separate corners of the continent, looks a lot like the suburbs.
Go figure.
True friends teach us about ourselves. Mark showed me, in seventh grade, the difference between creating and being creative. Anybody can make something, but it takes something truly special to live in the world between stuff that exists and stuff that could exist.
I've learned to visit this space, but Mark has always inhabited it.
You can check out his design/build studio HERE.
If you shred Maine waters, be on the lookout for Mark and his new sled, with not-quite-black and white, not-quite horizontal (by design!) lamination striping by Tony Mikus, a creative force of his own in Santa Cruz.

Recommended Pairing: this Bronson pairs best with a lukewarm Heineken in a can, poached from your folk's fridge on a warm summer night. Best when split between two underage drinkers in a tree fort.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Surf Movie Thing Tonight

Surf-movie thing tomorrow night!
What: a fundraising party for It Ain't Pretty, a film about Ocean Beach, San Francisco's lady surf shredders.
When: Wednesday, July 16th at 7pm.
Where: The Church of Surf! 3830 Noriega Street, SF.
Features: beer, food, and something billed as a 'Boys in Bikini Fashion Show,' so you might want to get there early to double--even triple--up on the beer part.
Reggae-inspired dancehall tunes by Santa Cruz's DJ Adam 12 and Biggah Happiness Sound.
Check out the event page by clicking on THIS.
Check out the non potato-salad themed Kickstarter page by clicking the word LADYSHRED.
TEAM HHG supports ladyshredders in all their shreddy pursuits, though we're currently stationed on the eastern seaboard and won't be able to attend. We have been doing our part encouraging the mini ladies, though, by shredding all things boogie board, two wheelers, and itch cream--they got bugs over here, yo!


Monday, June 23, 2014

Almost Famous

Stett Holbrook did a great job capturing the current spirit of NorthCoast surfing in this week's North Bay Bohemian. What's present is his article is accurate: a deep respect for surfers--by surfers--that may not be present in all of California's wave zones.
What's missing are all the boring, shrill stereotypes about surfers being myopic and territorial. Finally! Instead, Mr. Holbrook subtly highlights our coast's inclusivity. Our respect-for-just-making-it-out-into-the-lineup attitude. Our commitment to cold, dark, raw waters that are hard to love and, for some, hard to turn away from.
The article focuses on, well, me, but it really paints a thoughtful, articulate picture of surfing north of The Bridge. It can be read HERE.
Feel free to 'Like' and 'Comment' and stuff.

Speaking of surfing, remember that board from last post? Well, it's been all glassed up, waxed, and shredded. Initial reports: Oh boy.

Here she is all purty. Tony Mikus did a bang-up resin tint that's more 'kelp gold' than 'baby poop brown'. Thankfully.
I really like Tony--he's a character that's been under the surf-industry radar since the 70s. I like him to sign my personal boards. Here's what he came up with this pork chop:

Festina Lente is Latin for 'Make Haste Slowly'. Basically, it means that slow is smooth, and smooth is fast. So hurry up and slow down. Perfect, as I issued a rush on this board that probably had the entire glassing crew cursing my name.
Still!
It had to be done. Our plans for Baja were set. The paparazzi from Stett's article were relentless. South swell pulses were on the radar. Shredding had to happen, and it had to happen on this board.
And it did!
Wanna know what it's like to paddle out a new design with weird, homemade fins into hollow, dredging, top-to-bottom conditions?
How the hell should I know?
Both of today's sessions were in playful, peaky, shoulder-high mushburgers with fun, lined-up inside sections. This lil' lass dominated: easy entry, positive bottom turns, and loose, drivey fun.
Here's a rocker shot:
I can't say with complete honesty that both of today's sessions were totally 'sober' or 'without the influence of Tecate and tequila', but I can say this: this surfing life is a gift.

Friday, June 13, 2014

Summer Teeth

The Simmons platform has all the marks of true genius: functionality steeped in Newtonian mechanics, never-before-seen design aesthetics, and an incredible versatility--there aren't that many designs out there that will work for such a wide range of dimensions and wave sizes.
For example, the current crop of Mini-Simmons have sprouted at mid-to-sub five foot range. They slay flat-faced waves up to head high. On the day of his death in 1954, Bob Simmons rode a 10'6" in well-overhead surf at Windansea.
Reading Simmons theories gets me all sweaty and nerd stoked, so I carved out a 5'9" for myself that dives a bit deeper into the 'experimental' end of the design pool.
Low rocker (Simmons:"you just don't need it!") for maximum planing, and 'cambered' nose contour (in this case, a paneled forward vee) to spread water to the high-pressure rail area at takeoff. Domed deck blended into round, thin rails, to shed water off the airfoil. 
Widepoint ahead of center, as Simmons believed (and was backed up by aerodynamic and naval architecture) that load had to be forward of lift. 

Super wide, with a pulled nose rather than the more tombstone-y noses I've been shaping the last few years, as Simmons departed from the wide-nose plank designs of the day, experimenting with pulled-in and even pointed noses.
There's a subtle concave to reduce pressure flow under the board, and the tail is thin and wide.
The double wings are a departure from a more fundamental Simmons approach, but this board's going to be ridden in Northern California beachbreak, and a tighter tail will fit more comfortably into a steeper wave face. 

This one builds off my already flat Mini-Simmons rocker and breaks up the twin Simmons fins into a quad system.

These quads, too, depart from the norm, shifting more area from the rear fin to the forward fin. I love the drive off a huge twin fin, especially on drawn-out bottom turns, so this should maximize that hand-tickling-the-wave-surface feeling while adding an additional control element. Neal Purchase Jr.'s been having some success with this style in Australia and beyond.

Good lord, this post got tech weenie fast. How about little joke to break the geek tension:
Question: How do you know that Bob Simmons influenced your surfboard?
Answer: Because it works!
Sorry.
Are the various elements going to combine for maximum small-wave shreddage?
Who the hell knows?
All the applied design theory in the Library of Congress won't necessarily turn a lawnmower into a Stealth Bomber, but I'm pretty stoked to find out. 
Fortunately, we have a few weeks in Northern Baja coming up to provide a suitable testing ground. I'll keep you posted.

Friday, May 30, 2014

Of Warm Pancakes and Ghosts of the Heart

Joey's story is not unlike any of our stories, therefore Joey (shredder, artist, teacher, maker, good man) is all of us.
Joey saw something that pleased him, just as we all see things that please us.
Joey touched the thing that pleased him, as we all have touched things that please us.
Oh, only if there was some sort of big book to guide us through our temptation!
Perhaps Joey let his hands linger a bit too long on the thing. Perhaps, later, Joey's mind returned to the thing, warmed it over and over like a soft pancake.
The pancake then quietly, expeditiously, scooped a tiny, warm pancake cave into Joey's brain, where it tucked in, pulling the blanket of Joey's desire around itself.
Joey and not his own 6'4 Clover.
Full story HERE
At times, the pancake slept. Warmly. Peacefully. Almost invisibly, only the occasional pancake corner poking forth from the deep folds of the blanket, the occasional pleased sigh muffled by its own fluffy epidermis.
Other times, though, the pancake raged. The pancake seethed and the pancake coveted. The pancake wanted. Oh how the pancake wanted! The pancake felt no shame in this, this naked wanting, this perfect desire. For this is what the pancake did, this is what the pancake was.
When the pancake raged--and oh how the pancake raged!--it was untiring in its want, indefatigable in its trickery. It snuck out of its cave at night, quietly, hauntingly. It slunk from its quarters at day, oozing and slouching and slinking. It sprang forth morning and evening and at work or in the workshop or during lovely dinners with his lovely lady artist, and during quiet moments when there was just Joey and the pancake. It nibbled and gnashed, tickled and punched, and at these times there was no blanket, and there was no rest.
The pancake wailed and screeched and tore at him with talons. The pancake soothed and whispered and touched the places it touched with the lightest of touches. It hacked into the voicemail of Joey's soul and left a message on endless repeat: want, need. Need, want. Must must must!
Joey's 6'4 Clover
During these moments in our lives, there is only one path before us. The path of submission, spinning into the distance. The ocean of surrender.
Now Joey is sated. The pancake rests, its warm golden chest rising and falling imperceptibly, the tinest of watch-motor movements in its carbohydratic center.
Joey's 6'4 Clover with his original art
But the pancake's heart--the gluteny dry paste of it--beats. It beats slowly now, but one day, perhaps, it will beat faster. It will squirm out from under its blanket and its voice--strange at first, then familiar, oh so familiar!--will begin to whisper.