Merry Christmas!

Karissa and I would like to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! We're headed to Costa Rica in a couple of days, so stay tuned for some sunny shots of us surfing in board shorts and bikinis. Hope you all have a wonderful few weeks. We'll see you on the other side! - Justin W. Coffey


Some Endless Summer

Feast your eyes on the first nine minutes and fourteen seconds of Bruce Brown's Endless Summer (via EOS).

Eddie Bauer's Downlight Jacket

Eddie Bauer has been in the down business since day one. My old man bought one of their Skyliner coats sometime in the 1970's, and has since passed it on to me. It's tough, warm and indispensable at times. But it has seen better days, and so when an opportunity to use and review the latest down layers from our friends at Eddie Bauer presented itself, we jumped.

Karissa opted for the Downlight Linear Hooded Jacket, which features 800-fill Premium Goose Down insulation, a windproof shell made from recycled ripstop polyester and Eddie Bauer's StormRepel durable water-repellent (DWR) finish on the outside. The fit is fantastic. Light enough to put a Cloud Layer Pro Fleece beneath, and yet warm enough that she can wear it in the winter without anything else.

I went with the traditional Downlight Jacket (sans hood), which features the same Premium Goose Down insulation and StormRepel finish as Karissa's coat. One of the few differences we noticed between our two coats, however, were the tall interior pockets on the inside of Karissa's jacket. Aside from that they're essentially the same. An excellent outer layer for those windy winter mornings out west. Oh, and they also work well as a makeshift pillow!



Mark Matisons and Jed Petley mining the mystic mountain. Produced by Peripheral Perceptions.


Cause Costa Rica

Karissa, Chris, Rena and I are headed to Costa Rica in a couple of weeks. Fifteen days of surf, sun, etc. Unable to return to a certain southern surf spot due to circumstances out of our control (read: the government), we settled on a spot in Costa Rica that a friend (and fellow log lover) had suggested. We'll be staying in the northwestern corner of the country, walking distance from a beautiful beach break that offers everything from a soft inside section, to powerful peelers a little further out. And offshore wind... all day, every day. So with just fourteen days to pack and prepare for our adventure, I thought I'd put together another #duds collection featuring a few things I'll be taking to Costa Rica.

Mini Malibu

Short film featuring a few of the boys and girls from Nineplus surfing on a small September day.


Day Trip

Topless trucks, custom-built bikes with surfboard racks on the side and lots of little logging waves?! I'll be damned if this short bit of film (produced by Deus Ex Machina) doesn't make me wanna drop everything and escape to Indonesia. Click here to learn more about the Temple of Enthusiasm.



A few months ago my friend Duffy left his home in Seattle and headed south aboard his Harley. What some would call a wayward journey - "difficult to control or predict because of unusual or perverse behavior" - Duffy's trip was more of an experiment in my mind. Are there still open roads and unexplored areas of America? Can someone still point their wheel in one direction without knowing exactly where they'll end up? Is all that motorcycle shit still magical? And so it went; hundreds of highway miles, skate parks, surf spots, coffee shops, cold beers, friends and family. An excellent adventure. Follow the link and watch three short videos Spacecraft Collective has since produced.


Where is Ol' Uncle Hurricane?

Mark Yaggie and Nick Power riding golden-brown bastards of eastern origin. As seen on Surf-A-Pig.

Twenty and Ten is Ten

Surfing with snow on the sand is pretty rare in these parts. If we're lucky, clouds will accumulate during December and litter the ground with cold little crystals, leaving the city of Seattle and surrounding suburbs frozen for a few days. Snow being such an odd occurrence, city officials and citizens alike are wholly unaware of what to do when the ground is white and the temperature remains a few degrees below freezing. Panic ensues. Car accidents everywhere. People slipping in the middle of the street. There's a run on milk and canned goods at every store in Seattle. People stay inside Starbucks, dreading the commute back to their homes, offices or apartments. It's silly. And so Karissa and I escape. Driving west at the first signs of a freeze. Better to be where there are waves than trapped inside some coffee conglomerate, waiting for it to warm up.

Honestly, though, we weren't sure what to expect this weekend. Cold, yes, but snow on the ground and ice on all the roads?! Shit. We fled on Friday, riding a six something ferry across the Sound. We stayed the night near Port Angeles - a rather cold night I might add - before continuing our search for surf first thing on Saturday. The roads were alright. Icy at times, some snow on the shoulder, but once we rolled onto the reservation the conditions became increasingly worse. Side street were now sheets of ice, and the long gravel road out to the end was covered in a light layer of ice and snow itself. We took our time. Fargo, being but one wheel drive, would not easily escape the ice, if we so happened to get stuck. But alas, we arrived alright. And after surveying the situation, we decided we'd better surf while there was still some sun in the sky.

Cold? Yes. But bearable. With our wool-lined Patagonia wetsuits, lobster claws and 7mm booties, the water was not what we were worried about. It was the offshore wind, blowing anywhere from five to fifteen mph at times. Cold across your face, a frozen, gives-no-fucks kinda cold. I surfed first while Karissa stayed ashore to take a few photos. It didn't last long, though. I was outta the water within the hour, shaking and mumbling my way back to the van. Karissa paddled out while I was taking what may have been the longest shower of my life. I did, however, get back to the beach in time to take a few photos myself. Waves? They were alright. Small, but clean. With offshore wind and sets separated by minutes instead of seconds. That night Karissa cooked on our camp stove and we sat inside the van and drank beer and consumed copious amounts of chili with cheddar on top. The sun set shortly before five, and by six we had both climbed into bed, trying desperately to stay warm. The temperature that night was said to be sixteen.


Mexico Calling

A couple of months ago, Mele Saili and a few of her friends took a surf trip to Mexico to shoot this short film highlighting Seea's latest line of rash guards and surf suits. Brought to you by Bing Surfboards.



My friend Mr.Fox just shared a link to this rather cool Kickstarter campaign. The company is called Rumpl, and they've developed "a modern blanket inspired by active lifestyles," utilizing the same materials found in all those fancy puffy-coats people wear. Their blankets are designed to be used both indoors and out, and feature 20D rip-stop nylon with a DWR coating which makes them stain and odor resistant. Their blankets use synthetic down insulation, which will keep you warm while also allowing the blanket to be laundered. Available in four sizes (Throw, Twin, Queen and King) and two color combinations (blue with white piping or grey with orange piping), it looks like Rumpl has reached their fundraising goal and should be shipping soon. Follow the link for additional info.

High Tide

Awesome little edit featuring Erin Ashley, filmed by my friend Alex from Ten Piggies Over.

You Can Keep It

You give up some good stuff when you search for surf in colder climates. The warm, comfortable and convenient. Easy access and predictable point breaks. Instead, you wander west on the weekends, toward what some would consider a rather cold and unpleasant experience. An experience only a few of us understand, and even fewer honestly appreciate. "It's too damn cold!" Some will say. "Don't you have to wear a dry suit?" Others will ask. Unaware. And so they come with questions; often ones with obvious answers. "There's waves out west?" Perhaps they're just unwilling to work that hard for an experience, an activity they enjoy. Or maybe they're idiots ;)

It's taken a long time for me to fully understand my addiction, my desire to surf even when the water is forty-two degrees and the ambient air feels like it's freezing. To take account of all the things I'm willing to go without: sunshine, blue skies, warm water, a sandy beach and board shorts. Exchanged instead - sacrificed if you will - for grey skies and light brown waves, tall pine trees and rocky point breaks. I've spent more than one morning sitting in our van, waiting for waves. Mornings I could have spent at home eating waffles and watching college football. Or sleeping off a hangover. I've lost a lot of afternoons as well, driving from spot to spot, searching for surf. Afternoons I could have spent shopping, or maybe going to the movies.

But do I really desire all that all other stuff? All those other experiences? The shopping and the sitting and the eating. No. I'm quite satisfied with what I've sacrificed. Experiences I'm willing to exchange for a few windy waves. Because in the evening, after a few hours spent surfing, I can't stop smiling. Talking about this wave or that one. Closing my eyes on a Monday morning and daydreaming about something I surfed on Sunday. I'd give up all the warm weather in the world to share a few small waves with my friends, afternoons spent searching for surf, or evenings curled up in front of a campfire. You can keep it, California. The sun and the sand. We'll be alright up here.

This was originally published as part of a cold water collaboration with Surf Right.


Carlos & Mateusz

Matty Chojnacki and Carl Gonsalves surfing somewhere near Sydney. Brought to you by The Sea Life.

The Lake Crescent Lodge

The Lake Crescent Lodge was built in 1916, and serves as a base camp for anyone looking to explore the Olympic National Park. Sitting among the giant fir and hemlock trees that line the lake, this turn-of-the-century resort has a variety of rooms and cabins you can rent, including the Roosevelt Fireplace Cabins, named after President Franklin Roosevelt who established the Olympic National Park in June of 1938. The lodge itself is not nearly as big as I had imagined. An enclosed deck with floor to ceiling windows looks out onto the lake, while the interior of the lodge is, as our friend Jasmine described it, "lodgey." A huge stone fireplace sits in the center, surrounded by couches and chairs. A bar in the back corner sits across from a wide staircase that leads to the upper level, where the historic lodge rooms are located. The back half of the building is occupied by the restaurant; the Bison Meatloaf wasn't bad.

Normally closed this time of year, the brass at the lodge decided to stay open through the holiday season for the first time since who knows when. Taking advantage of this fact, our friends Derek and Laura reserved a Roosevelt Fireplace Cabin for the weekend and invited us join them fireside on Friday night. Sitting just a few feet from the edge of the lake, cabin #37 is a wide, wood cabin with two queen sized beds, a stone fireplace, comfy chairs and big white framed windows that look out onto the lake. Listed on the National Register of Historic Places, the Roosevelt Fireplace Cabins really are incredible. After an early dinner in the lodge, we spent the evening in front of the fireplace, drinking beer and telling lies. The next morning Karissa cooked breakfast on the bench out back, while we drank coffee and watched the dogs chase ducks into the lake. A wonderful way to spend a Saturday.


Hanging With Friends

Joel Fitzgerald and his wife, Chrystal, sliding small stuff with Beau Young, somewhere in Australia.

A Balanced Diet

For some people, long weekends can be difficult to deal with. Too many days away - a rupture in their routine. Maybe they'll drink brewed coffee in ceramic cups and eat eggs and bacon, as opposed to their usual iced americano and eight-grain roll. They'll take a six minute shower instead of two at twenty. Or spend a few hours in the ocean in replace of an evening at the gym; watching other peoples athletic achievements on an overhead screen while music plays in their ears. Or maybe they'll find themselves surrounded by friends and familiar faces instead of ordering takeout Thai food on a Friday night. And maybe they'll drink bourbon and beer instead of diet soda. Most people enjoy the juxtaposition. Others find the uncertainty a little unsettling. But if you're like me, you'll indulge in this new routine, or rather the lack thereof. You'll make last minute decisions, stay out an extra hour, eat a late lunch, drink three cups of coffee or surf until your fingers are frozen and your shoulders are sore. Because when Monday comes knockin, when your weekday routine returns, you'll regret not enjoying all those out of place activities. Guaranteed.


Early Examples

Short film shot by Bruce Brown and John Severson, brought to you by the Encyclopedia of Surfing.


Eddie Bauer's Cloud Layer Pro Fleece

My mother used to buy me a new fleece every winter when I was a kid. Outgrowing the one she'd purchased the year prior, I could always count on finding a new fleece wrapped and waiting beneath our Christmas tree. They varied by brand, color, fit and finish. I remember a certain brand-name being emblazoned across the front of one fleece - a feature of utmost importance at the time, as I would have almost certainly been a social outcast had I worn one without a logo. As time marched on however, the frequency of the Christmas fleece went from once a year to every so often. I was done growing, and to be perfectly honest, fleece wasn't what the kids were wearing anymore. But now, fifteen years in the future, a fuzzy fleece is just the thing I need to keep me warm in the winter.

Enter Eddie Bauer's Cloud Layer Pro Fleece. Made with Polartec's 5.5oz micro velour fleece, the Cloud Layer is designed to be both warm and lightweight, allowing you to layer if necessary. The 100% polyester velour construction used in Eddie Bauer's fleece creates air pockets that trap air and retain body heat, while also drying quickly and resisting pilling (funny little fleece balls). The Cloud Layer Pro Fleece is available as either a 1/4-zip pullover or a full-zip jacket, and comes in both men's and women's shapes and sizes.


What I've been listening to lately...


Till You Can't Feel Your Feet

This is the time of year when I am supposed to be thankful for things. Friends, family, good food, a healthy heart, etc. It's easy to overlook all of the good shit I've got going on, though. Overwhelmed at times by a whole bunch of bullshit, bad people and even worse weather. But when I can step back for a second, you know, really digest some of this shit, it becomes apparent that I've got it really good. It's easy to complain, however. To want more or yearn for something other than what you've already acquired. The grass being greener and all that. And so I struggle. Like a lot of people I presume. Wanting what others own; a bigger van, a different sorta surfboard, some new shoes. Whatever it is. But when I stop to think, to take into account where I am at versus where I was, the desires disappear. Instead I smile, thinking about all the waves we had this weekend, the campfires and the cold beers, the offshore wind and the candid conversations. It was incredible. And I couldn't be more thankful. Because in the end, all the crap we've acquired won't matter that much. It'll be the experiences - daydreams and nightmares alike - that define who we are, or who we were.

Anna Ehrgott

Check out this fun little film featuring Anna Ehrgott and some of our favorite spots down south.


Topo Designs Cinch Tote

I've always been a fan of big bags. Something you can stuff a lot of... well... stuff into. Zippered pockets and separate sections on the inside of backpacks and bags can be cool, but sometimes what you really need is just an oversized sack of sorts. And so I was super stoked when I saw Topo Designs new Cinch Tote ($89), a tall 1000d Cordura creation featuring natural leather lash tabs, long nylon handles, a removable shoulder strap and pack cloth interior. There's a small zippered pocket on the front of the tote, as well as a wide sleeve-style pocket behind it. The top of the tote can be cinched shut to keep your shit secure, or you can stuff it inside to make everything easy to access. Like all of their equipment, the Cinch Tote is made in Topo Designs LEED certified building in Denver, Colorado. And for just $89, the Cinch Tote (which is available in four different color combos, btw) is a perfect replacement for that tattered old grocery tote you keep in the trunk of your car, or an excellent alternative to that big backpack you bring with you every weekend.


Fluctus Splitters

Check out this little trailer for a forthcoming 'Super 8' surf film made by Tristan Mausse.

Clara Ukulele

The Clara Ukulele is an innovative new instrument made from Ekoa, a combination of plant-based, environmentally friendly fabrics and bio-based resins that produces a responsiveness, stability and strength unlike anything else (or so they say). The Clara is built by Blackbird Guitars in San Francisco, CA, a company that has "spent the better part of a decade developing small, travel-friendly, carbon-fiber instruments with world class tone." The Clara is said to provide musicians with the experience of a vintage old-growth instrument in a lightweight, durable and sustainable package. Sounds good to me. Click here to learn more about (and listen to) Blackbird's Clara Ukulele.


Death Dagger

Mark Matisons surfing a Gato Heroi 'Death Dagger' on the west coast of Australia (via Wild Things).

All Men Dream

"All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible."

- T.E. Lawrence

Whiskey Was The Word

I won't get into it all, but lets just say last week(end) was not wonderful. Two funerals, a lot of whiskey and some sleep left us exhausted come Sunday evening. We'd driven from Federal Way to Port Angeles following the second service and were eagerly anticipating our dinner date with Angel and Quinton. My mother was in town all week and traveled north with us on Sunday evening. After eating and drinking, we all took a seat in front of Angel's tiny television to watch Invasion! From Planet C for the umpteenth time. And while we drank whiskey and ginger syrup and talked about all the bad things that had happened that week, my mother tucked her self into Angel's refurbished guest room, and somehow slept through all of our silliness.

Monday morning we ate bagels for breakfast before heading west in search of surf. We skipped the first spot in favor of the second, and found two of our friends slipping out of their wetsuits as soon as we arrived. There were waves. Reasonably sized ones. But the tide was too high and the swell was reflecting off a steep shelf, creating that baby-in-a-bathtub effect. We paddled out anywhoo, and found a few fun ones. My mother snapped a some photos, poking her head out the passenger side of Fargo every few minutes as to avoid standing in the rain. We kept it short and sweet, donned the Cloak of Stoke and headed back toward Seattle sooner than I would have wanted. It was a rough week, but a salty dip in the sea made everything feel a bit better.


One Average Day

James Parry surfing small stuff on the other side of the earth. Brought to you by Ruwac Productions.


How Stanley Ficklefog Turned Into a Surf Troll

This is the story of Stanley Ficklefog. A once outgoing, somewhat sociable soul, Stanley (Stan to his friends and family) lived in a small city, just a few hours from the ocean. He'd always been interested in surfboarding waterhills. He’d seen it on the ol' television, and even tried it once or twice when the weather was nice. But it was not an important part of his life. Not then. Stan spent his time at house parties, in movie theaters, and at all sorts of sporting events. He also liked the ladies, and spent a great deal of his time in their company. Preoccupied, Stan was. And at that time surfboarding was just an activity for Mr. Ficklefog, not a passionate pursuit.

Then one day something happened. Something Stan never imagined. Visiting with friends in a faraway land, Stan had what some would call an epiphany. No longer did Stan feel burdened by his belongings or his relationships with both friends and family. Stan felt free for the first time. Now, I'm sure you're wondering how the hell this happened. What caused Stan to feel so free all of a sudden? Well, let me tell you a little bit more about our friend Mr.Ficklefog.

Space Ranger

What I've been listening to lately...



Goddamn we got it good! Saturday, out at the end, with wind blowing outta the east and a sliver of sun in the sky. We dragged our feet all the way out, stopping for snacks, checking some other spots, etc. Wish we wouldn't have waited. Oh well. You take what you can get this time of year. Fargo was full-up, with Karissa and Angel up front, and Zoe and I buried in the back with four boards and six wetsuits. Cold beer from the cooler and a warm shower followed three or four hours in the ocean. It was crowded by comparison. Some Stand Up Paddle people, a few friends and a collection of kooks on the inside. We drove back after dark, ate dinner at Angel's, drank whiskey and apple cider and passed out early. A text message woke me up Sunday morning. "Waist high and offshore." But by the time we ate breakfast, drank coffee and dragged our asses out there, the swell had died down a bit. Wind was still outta the south, though. I slipped into my suit and paddled out to the east. Karissa, who wasn't feeling well, stayed ashore and snapped a few photos. The waves and weather could have been better. I'm just glad we got it so good on Saturday.

Southern Sandbank

Matt Travis and Mike Lay surfing somewhere south of Cornwall. Shot and edited by John Eldridge.


10 Things To Do Before You're 30

Inspired by my friend Steve's recent blog post about the '17 Things To Do Before You're 40,' I thought I'd put together a similar sort of list, sans a decade. Now to be fair, I'm one year and six months away from my thirtieth birthday, but who's to say I can't suggest some shit you're supposed to do before you're done with your third decade?! Important shit in my opinion. So with that said, follow the link and take a look at the ten pre-thirty things I think you should try to achieve.

Pelican Pub's 'Bad Santa' Cascadian Dark Ale

The Pelican Pub & Brewery in Pacific City, OR is one of our favorite places to enjoy a beach side beverage. Sitting in the sand a short walk from the surf, the Pelican Pub offers a wide variety of ales, pales and IPAs, as well as an assortment of seasonal beers, including their 'Bad Santa' Cascadian Dark Ale. A dark brown beer with "good clarity and a roasted malt and earthy hop aroma," Bad Santa is bitter like a lot of the winter beers we've had, but features a maple syrup sort of flavor at the finish. Brewed with an abundance of Fuggle hops, this dark ale would pair well with clam chowder or chili. And while I can't say it was Karissa's favorite, I did notice our bottle of Bad Santa went bye-bye real fast ;)

You can find Pelican Pub's 'Bad Santa' Cascadian Dark Ale at Full Throttle Bottles.


The Kegel

Robin Kegel from Gato Heroi surfing at the Salinas Longboard Festival. Filmed by Jan Latussek.


L.L. Bean's Norwegian Crewneck

Some people wear sweaters. Wool ones. Warm ones. With a crewneck or some kind of shall collar, and big brown football buttons. I'm one of these people. Always have been. Look through the photos from my childhood and you'll see Cable-Knit and Ugly Christmas all over the place. Cardigans I could never get into, though. Maybe when I'm old(er) and don't care if it makes me feel like Fred Rogers. Or when all the skinny hipster shits stop wearing them. Anyhow, about this here sweater. I've always wanted one. My mother's fourth husband had one and I was always rather envious of it. Knit in Norway using 100% worsted wool yarn, this sweater features a traditional Scandinavian bird's eye pattern that will likely evoke a yearning for yesteryear. The crewneck is comfortable and will keep the cold air out, however the overall length is a little on the short side, as far as I'm concerned. Warm is an understatement, though. Two nights after I acquired it, I spent six hours beside a cold campfire wearing nothing more than the sweater, pants and a pair of slippers. I've worn it every weekend since. Now, they're not cheap ($139), but you get what you pay for. Click here to learn more about L.L. Bean's Norwegian Crewneck.

Dukes of Chutney

What I've been listening to lately. As seen heard on Indoek.



A fantastic short film produced by Finisterre, highlighting the cold water surfing culture in the UK.


Sprinkle Frosted Cake Donuts

Apprehension: anxiety or fear that something bad or unpleasant will happen. Not sure why I felt that way. We found what we're always after; shoulder high sets, intervals, etc. I paddled out atop a Silver Spoon. But it was blue. Not the stick I usually surf. Sans leash. Long lines lay ahead, stretching across sand, standing up and then closing quickly. I paddled out to the east, drifted west, and surfed south. Soon I was surrounded by a handful of like-minded loggers. Solid surfers with a disposition different than what you'd normally encounter on the coast. Optimistic. Excited. We shared a few fun ones. Laughed when someone survived a section. Cringed when someone got stuck inside. I surfed like shit. Hungover from three too many martinis and two pieces of pumpkin pie. I couldn't keep it together. Balance was bullshit. Footwork fucked up. Timid at times. Oh well. We left early that afternoon. Obligations on the other side of the sound. Suppose I'll keep my fingers crossed for similar waves this weekend. And perhaps this time I'll skip the pie. Or maybe the martinis ;) Follow the link for a few more photos.

Indian Summer

Kameron Brown and Jon Arman enjoying So-Cal's Indian Summer. Brought to you by Rhythm Livin.


Surf Artists Anonymous

Limited edition t-shirt featuring original art by our friend and fellow van dweller, Todd Fischer. Men's crew neck shirts are available in medium, large and extra large sizes, while women's v-neck shirts are available in medium and large sizes. $20 plus $4.95 for shipping (or you can find them in Fargo). All of the proceeds from the sale of these shirts will go to support Todd's surf art habit. Click here to snag your shirt!


Somewhere Suddenly

It'll arrive unexpectedly. Suddenly sometimes. Without warning. You're at the right place but the wrong time. Because you never really know where you'll find waves. Your guess is as good as mine. Swell size, angle, etc. Taking note of the tide, or what about the wind. I remember our earliest excursions, traveling from spot to spot, searching for that surprise. Something unexpected. We found it a few times, stumbled upon the swell, surfed for a few and then kept quiet. Other times we told; a few friends, my father. We learned our lesson, though. How to keep it Hush-Hush.

This weekend, however, we found the fickle. The right place at the right time. We could hear it from the front seat of Fargo, breaking over a shallow rock bottom. Small stones leading to a sandy shore, with tall trees flung this way and that. We watched it for awhile. It was us and an eagle. We'd been on the road and were eager for anything. Waist high? Maybe a bit bigger. Clean, but closing quickly. We surfed until sundown. Flying down the face, pulling in and out, trying not to stuff our sticks into the sand. How better to spend a Sunday than surfing somewhere, suddenly, with someone you love.

Gato Bask Journal

Robin Kegel and the curious cats at Gato Heroi surfing an assortment of sticks in the Basque Country.


The Joey Chair

Camp chairs come and go. Maybe you got one as a gift, or grabbed one at the General Store on your way outta town one weekend. Or perhaps someone forgot theirs at the beach and it ended up in the trunk of your car? Whatever way you come across one (or four), a comfortable chair is an essential for anyone that spends a lot of time surfing and camping on the coast. So when our friends at Travel Chair sent us their latest offering, a small, light, four-legged seat sack they're calling the Joey, I was stoked to see how much better - or worse - it would be than the Teddy chairs they sent us last summer.

Attending Church

The guys (and gals) from Nineplus, sliding some fun stuff at Church toward the end of September.


That Unexpected Offshore

As you may have noticed, Fall is my favorite. A season that can surprise, October offers unexpected offshore winds, sunny skies and cold evenings spent around a campfire. I really can't complain. We surfed for six hours on Saturday; waiting while the wind shifted from east to west and then back again. Oh, and did I mention that the waves were wonderful?! Waist high, with wind in your face and lots of long peeling lefts and slow running rights. That evening, Karissa cooked something simple (penne noodles, chicken sausage and red sauce) and we ate, and drank a bit of bourbon. I stayed up late talking to my friend Todd about Voodoo Acupuncture, while Karissa climbed into the van and fell asleep shortly after eight. Unfortunately, Sunday morning sorta sucked. A mess of white water and a shapeless swell had showed up. So with exhausted arms and an unwillingness to waste what little energy we had left on something shitty, we decided to eat a big breakfast and then hike into the woods to shoot a few photos. We stopped at some spots on our way outta town, but the waves weren't any better. So we decided to head inland in search of (better) surf. I'll save that story, though.

Hip Wigglers Invitational

Short bit of film highlighting this year's Hip Wigglers Invitational, held on the Bailiwick of Jersey.


Patagonia R3 Wetsuit Gloves

To be honest, I hate gloves. Cumbersome comes to mind. Disconnected. Uncomfortable. For years I refused. And when I did wear them, the only thing I wanted to do was shake my hands feverishly like some kind of inspired spirit fingers performance - trying desperately to free myself from them. Oh, and did I mention that getting them on was no easier than getting them off? A real pain those goddamn gloves were. But when you start surfing in the winter, or the fall for that matter, they become more important. Because unless you're some sort of Ice Man, like Arnold in that shitty Batman movie, your fingers are gonna freeze. So I caved and bought a pair, some 3mm gloves made by Matuse, or maybe they were made by O'neil. Anyhow. They kept my fingers from freezing. For awhile. Then everything went to shit. The seams split and I wore a hole right through the palm, and they eventually let so much water in that I may as well have not been wearing them.


Color Correct

Our friend Derek Sparks is an incredible artist. Different, no doubt, but his photographs are a form of art that few people are familiar with. He'll take what might otherwise be an ordinary image and expand upon it; exaggerating the color and condition, making the sea sparkle and the grey skies look good. It really is incredible. So anytime we see Derek standing on the shore, tripod set securely in the sand, his face buried into the back of his camera, we know something cool will come of it. With that being said, follow the link and take a look at some of the images Derek snapped last Saturday.

State Of The Art

What I've been listening to lately...

Peanut Butter Piggies

We spent the evening with Alex Swanson and his lovely fiancée, Erica Burtrum. A classic Southern California surfer, Alex's enthusiasm for the ocean is apparent, although his interests go well beyond what one might expect. Working as an EMT in the Costa Mesa area of California, Alex has seen both sides of the show. He surfs, but understands that life is short and you shouldn't spend all of your time on any one activity. A real down-to-earth kinda cat. And Erica is awesome. Stoked we were able to spend some time together in Seatown. Click here and take a look at Alex's blog, Ten Piggies Over.


Daveed Arganda letting it all hang out, somewhere in So-Cal. Brought to you by Bird Man Media.


The Surf Café Cookbook

The Surf Café Cookbook was developed by Jane and Myles Lamberth, proprietors of Shells Café, which is located in Strandhill on the west coast of Ireland. It was the internet that introduced me to both their cafe and cookbook. Or perhaps I saw it on another surf blog? Or as a related item on Amazon? However I came across it, I'm sure glad I did. Because the book "focuses on locally-produced food that’s unpretentious and tasty. It’s food for sharing with friends and family, around the kitchen table or on a beach blanket thrown on the sand." It features interesting how-to information, a brief history of the Irish surf culture, essential items for anyone eating and drinking along the west coast of their country, as well as an assortment of recipes that are easy to make and damn delicious. And while I'm not much of a cook (I can heat a mean can of beans!), I figure the wife would like what's inside. Click here to learn more about the book.

Foreign Affairs

Hoalen ambassador, Mathieu Maréchal, surfing a few fun ones at La Torche in Finistère, France.


We Don't Get Waves?!

With the surf report calling for long period groundswells and some strong wind outta the east, my friend Tom Hanny skipped work on Monday and headed south in search of surf. He expected to see something sizable. Some big waves wouldn't be bad. But I don't think anyone was expecting to see what actually rolled in that Monday morning. Honestly, I'd prefer to let Tom's photos do the talking, but I will say it's days like these that remind me that we do get waves. Real ones. Big ones. And that if you're willing to work for it, they can be better than anywhere else. So with that being said, follow the link and take a look at some of Tom's photos from that secret spot down south.

Je Suis Le Vent

What I've been listening to lately...


Between Black & White

Between black and white - the absence of color and its opposite - you get to see grey. A color we're accustom to. A color we've become comfortable with. Because we have to. Because between those two extremes, there's room for a lot of opportunity. Overcast afternoons spent surfing spots only you and a few friends have found. Achromatic evenings where the moon hides behind a wall of cumulus clouds. Differentiating between day and night can be difficult. Color is absent. The sun sets silently behind the hills, turning grey skies to black almost instantly. The morning comes quietly as well. The sea blending ever so softly into the sky. You stand on the sand, straining to see the swell, sipping a warm cup of coffee, unaffected by the overcast conditions or the absence of that green glow over your shoulder. Because there's waves. Good ones. And while that wonderful array of ocular amusement is all but gone - setting with the sun at the end of summer - you're still surfing. Still searching for meaning in that great, grey unknown. Perhaps you'll find it this year, though. Perhaps you'll notice something otherwise overlooked, something you may not have seen in the spring or summer, when color can confuse. Grey gives you clarity. An ability to look through the fog and the fall, to a time of year when waves become bigger and the summer surfers have gone home for good. So don't be so eager for those beautiful blue mornings and orange afternoons. Enjoy the time in between.

This was originally published as part of a cold water collaboration with Surf Right.

Autumn Logging

Ion Eizaguirre sliding a 9'6 Model-T in Zarautz, a small town in the Basque Country of northern Spain.


Winter Wants

Those cold winter months are just moments away. Soon I'll blow big clouds of condensation into clenched fists; waiting for the frost on Fargo's windshield to slowly dissipate so that I can see. There will be waves, but it'll be increasingly more arduous to enjoy them. Thick(er) suits and wool shirts and bottles of bourbon will make evening sessions an option. But the sun will set before six, and cooking over a campfire will become increasingly more difficult as wet wood and sideways rain are ever-present. I'll be damned if we don't make due, though. And in the end, when the sun starts to stay up a little longer and the sweater I've been wearing is clearly overkill, I'll eagerly await the winter. Because this time of year is unlike others, unlike elsewhere. It's difficult, no doubt, but rewarding in its own way. So to help me stay stoked through these next few months, here's what's on my winter #wishlist.

Feels Like We Only Go Backwards

What I've been listening to lately...



Dom Breen surfing a Gato Heroi 'Death Dagger' somewhere in Australia. Courtesy of Henry Cousins.

Out There On Our Own

Rare are the weekends spent surfing without anyone else. Camped out in the corner, alone, with nothing more than a small fire, a bottle of wine and a couple of camp chairs. It happens in October. When the kids are back in school and the conditions can be, well, uncertain at best. It's good, though, the days and nights we spend together, uninterrupted. It can be quiet. Picking a peak, maybe fifteen or twenty feet apart, and surfing the shoulder. We come in only to snack on something. Then we surf some more. The evenings are incredible. A quick shower followed by a beer. She'll sort out something else to eat - Karissa always cooks. We can see the sun set from where we sit, in front of a fire, with out feet up, chatting about waves and whatnot. We go to bed early. An opportunity to sleep more than we do during the work week. Coffee is followed by something simple to eat, as soon as the sun shows up on Sunday. And then we surf some more. Fargo is filled with the sound of Seahawks as we drive back from the beach. Football in the fall. Maybe we stop to watch the end of the game. Maybe we don't. Another cup of coffee before we board the boat. And then we park and unpack at our apartment, and spend the dwindling hours of daylight dreaming about the waves we had. Or the waves we'll have next weekend.


Joel Tudor's Ductumentary

"Joel Tudor's vision to preserve the future of surfing for generations to come." Brought to you by Vans.


Sunray Kelley

There's plenty of weird people in the Pacific Northwest. There's the wonderfully weird, the extremely strange and the 'it's kinda hard to tell' type. So when I stumbled across this Shwood Eyewear video highlighting Sunray Kelley, an architect and builder who draws his inspiration from the woods that surround him, I was not at all surprised. Honestly, a few of the homes he's built look a lot like the one my mother's friend Jeanne lives in. But if weird is the word, then fantastic is the feeling his buildings broadcast. Organic architecture built with wood bought at "God's Hardware Store," SunRay's stuff is really quite incredible. Follow the link to see the short film.

Dead Sled

Bret Caller from The Shop Next Door sliding a Chris Christenson 'Dead Sled' surfing board.


Cider Press Shenanigans

Cider is something I'm rather fond of. Hard as opposed to soft. But I'll drink both, because you can always add a bit of bourbon. So when Angel invited us to an annual cider press party last Sunday, we showed up in skirts. It was early afternoon when we pulled off the highway and down the first driveway. Having surfed for something like five hours earlier that morning, we were exhausted, to say the least. I really had no idea what to expect. Four or five friends and some kind of apple squishing apparatus? But as we rounded the corner of a rather long gravel driveway, there sat a beautiful little house surrounded by a trees turning all your favorite colors of fall. To its right was some kind of shed, under which sat two cider presses, hundreds of pounds of apples and two dozen people. There was also a pond, in which floated a small white rowboat, and a trail that took you to the backside of the property where fresh vegetables grew from the ground and rabbits awaiting their end. We participated in the apple squishing, ate smoked suckling pig and sipped on fresh cider spike with a bit of Basil Hayden's. It was an excellent evening. One that caused Karissa to throw a proper fit when the time came to leave.


Carl Gonsalves surfing a 9'7 Gato Heroi 'Playboy' south of Sydney. Courtesy of Henry Cousins.


Offshore in October

They fade so fast, all the waves in a weekend. The good and the bad. Gone before you know it. You try so hard to save some of them, to put them in the back of your brain, so you can take a taste a little later - maybe Monday morning, or Wednesday after work. But when you close your eyes, all you see is the sun and sand. For some reason, the waves went away. Which is why we're here, on the internet, so I can see the size and the shape. So that maybe I'll remember. That long left, with offshore wind blowing white water into my face - a blind drop followed by a big bottom turn - tucked low toward the top, skimming my fingers across the face. Or maybe I'll remember one more. A reasonably sized right, held open long past its prime, taking steps to increase speed. It's as if they need some time to settle. The memories that is. To take their place amongst all the other waves that weekend, or weekends past. Because I can see clearly something I surfed six weeks ago. Maybe more. But the ones this weekend, well, I might as well have been blindfolded.


Jai, Zye & Josh

Jai Lee, Zye Norris and Josh Constable sliding some fun winter waves over there in Australia.


Jordan Hufnagel and his pal, James Crowe, are about to embark on a year long motorcycle journey from British Columbia to Patagonia. Prior to their departure, Jordan and James built themselves some badass adventure bikes (which we saw at The One Motorcycle Show), collaborated with Woolrich on a curated clothing line, and have been featured in the this short video highlighting a bunch of Danner's new Stumptown boots. An epic adventure awaits. Click here to learn more.


The Cloak of Stoke

Wetsuits suck. If you've ever surfed in board shorts or a bikini, you know this. I'm not saying they aren't important - that they won't keep you warm or let you surf when it's winter - I'm simply suggesting that they suck. In general. And honestly, it's the in-and-out process that makes surfing with a wetsuit a real pain in the ass. On the side of the road, in a muddy parking lot or sitting inside the van, getting one on (or off) takes time and often leaves you both cold and uncomfortable. Enter The Mancho, or what I've dubbed the Cloak of Stoke. This terry cloth robe like layer allows you to get in-and-out of your suit without showing your business bits to all the people in the parking lot. It also works wonderfully as an alternative to a towel, allowing you to shower and then saunter back to camp without freezing your ass off. Its hood is huge and works wonderfully on a wet head. The front pocket is a perfect place to keep your claws, and there's even a little loop on the back of the neck so you can hang it outside the shower. They're long enough to cover up all of your essentials and wide enough for you to slide into your suit without feeling claustrophobic or cramped. Now, I'm sure your mom could make one, or that you're just fine wrapping up your underbits in a beach towel, but they sell for $75 (including shipping) on Stoke Harvester, and as far as I'm concerned, that's a damn good deal.

French Revolution

A short segment from Sunshine Sea, shot at Biarritz in 1968 (via Encyclopedia of Surfing).


Iolo Edger

The internet can be incredible. Enabling the otherwise impossible, it can, and often will, bring people together who share similar interests and ideals. People who might otherwise feel outcast or alone. Someone that surfs as an example. Or an artist. And it was the internet that connected Iolo (Yol-Owe) Edger and I. Settled some four miles from the coast of Southern Wales, where "a castle sits by the river mouth, and the rock formations have been featured in various studies for being great at illustrating the formation of the planet," Iolo's art is influenced by his surroundings and his love of sound - with over exaggerated facial features and a color palette that is bright, but often brown. He draws and paints a lot of portraits, as well as landscapes that capture the color and architecture of his area. A surfer? I'm not sure. But he tells me "the waves aren't consistent but we've many a legend patrolling the waters."


Rain, Trees and Leaves

We all know the fall is fickle. Staring at surf reports, listening to weather band broadcasts or making a few phone calls to friends. Some of that shit can help. Most of it is a waste of time, though. But you roll the dice and drive out to take a look - fingers crossed all the way there. Sometimes you score, more often you don't. It's the inconsistency that makes surfing this season so special. Because when it's good, it can be real good. And so went our weekend. An early exit followed by a ferry ride. Dinner at Angel's and then coffee and some kind of cereal the next morning. We found it flat. So we drove back to town, went to the gym, snagged some socks at Moss and then (inadvertently) celebrated Oktoberfest at Toga's with Angel, Quinton, Steve Abandonato and his wife, Dana.

Sunday morning came too quickly. Maybe it was the White Russian(s). In search of surf, we found the road blocked by a rather tall tree. Parked Fargo, chatted with the kid stuck on the other side, and then decided to cut the fucker down and clear the road using a small handsaw we'd purchased last winter. Took about an hour. In the rain. Afterward, we ate a late breakfast at the Blackberry Cafe and then drove the long way round, avoiding what was now a closed road. Some surf showed up while we were away. It was small, but we found a few fun ones. Wearing our winter suits sure did suck, though. After a couple of hours, Karissa got cold and paddled back to the beach. I called it quits when the wind picked up. So was it worth all that effort? Sure. Better than sitting on our asses in Seattle.


Pendulum Swing

Beau Young jazzing the glass aboard his Pendulum Swing, a surfboard that he describes as "old style cool with modern flair and trimmings." Click here to learn more about Beau and his boards.

The Encyclopedia of Surfing

The long awaited and eagerly anticipated Encyclopedia of Surfing is now online. Made by Matt Warsaw, the EOS is "the greatest collection of surf matter on the planet. A gigantic aqua-blue-tinged mass of history, culture, and commentary." First published on paper in 2003, the EOS online edition was funded courtesy of Kickstarter and has taken two years to complete. Featuring a plethora of images and information, videos and external links the EOS is everything we had hoped for, and then some.


Home Is Where Your Park It

My friend Foster has launched a Kickstarter campaign to help fund the printing and production of his latest book, Home Is Where Your Park It. After quitting his job in July of 2011, Foster bought a Syncro Vanagon and headed west in search of surf and other such things. And now, after 80,000 miles and twenty-four months spent travelling all over North America, Foster is preparing to publish an assortment of images he's taken along the way. Click here to learn more about the book.


From the Phone - Vol.3

Unfortunately, summer came and went rather quickly. The first days of fall are upon us, and having taken the time to sort through my cell phone, I've decided to post another selection of stills from the last few months. Images I share on Instagram. A few I've kept quiet. Some come courtesy of Karissa_Would. Taco Tuesdays and Mobile Surf Movies, even an image I took while hanging out the front window of Fargo. It's interesting to look at our shitty cell phone shots and instantly-grammed images. It's a good way to remember all of our activities. Which is, after all, why I began this blog. Because my memory is as good as an eight year old, and I figure I can look back at all this when I'm old(er) and say, "Man, those were some fantastic fucking waves." Or perhaps, "Whoa, I really was an asshole!" Anyhow. Follow the link for some additional images.

Bahía del Escorpión

Our friends from Hippy Tree spent some time surfing Scorpion Bay in Baja. (via Stoke Harvester).


Surface Tension & The First Days of Fall

I'm no good at gambling. I think blackjack is boring and I still can't understand why poker is on ESPN. And don't even get me started on slot machines. To be honest, though, it's not that I am bad at it, it's just I don't like the idea of losing. But as winter grows ever closer, gambling becomes an increasingly more important part of my life. Risk vs. Reward. Do we drive all the way out? Is this a good weekend to go? Should we surf right now, or wait on the incoming tide? Every choice offering an opportunity for failure. 50/50 at best. Because when you surf just two or three days a week, your Wave Window grows smaller by the second. Missed moments. Waiting in one place while waves break in another. Sorta like Saturday. We had planned to stay in Pacific City, hoping like hell the wind and waves would die down a bit. But it was ugly. And with no desire to surf the soup, we decided to drive north. Dice rolled.

It's roughly 325 miles from Pacific City to Port Angeles. The drive up Highway 101 can be incredible... after Olympia. We didn't waste any time along the way, though. Stopping once for coffee and again for fuel. Blazing a trail, if you will. It was five minutes after five when we walked across the street and into the ocean. Two of our friends had been there since early that afternoon and said it had been small, but surfable. As luck would have it, however, the waves were waist high when we arrived. Straight Flush! Karissa and I surfed until the sun went down, sharing waves and taking turns shooting a few photos. As the tide filled in, the swell began to die down a bit. We showered and then headed to Angel's house for our first fall feast of the year. And while I can't speak for the conditions on the coast, I can say that the two hours we spent surfing that evening were worth all the extra effort.

Aug Log

Chris Tincher and Sean Cusick surfing some cosmic shit in St. Augustine, FL. Seen on Surf-Station.

Elysian Brewing's Pumpkin Patch

Admittedly, pumpkin beer isn't for everyone. Some people think it’s too dark, some think it's overspiced, while others simply prefer their ales unadulterated. Understandable, I suppose. But I like beer brewed with plenty of pumpkin, and spices and stuff. It is the epitome of fall for me. A tall brown bottle, maybe some meat cooked over a campfire and some kind of squash. Simple stuff. Hearty. Elysian Brewing has been a favorite of mine for awhile now. Their Avatar Jasmine IPA is one of the best beers I've ever had. Honest.

So when Erika at Full Throttle Bottles told me Elysian was introducing a fall four-pack featuring three of their usual pumpkin beers, as well as a limited edition offering, I drove down to Georgetown and picked up a patch as soon as possible. A tall, narrow box with four big brown bottles inside, Elysian's 'Pumpkin Patch' includes their Night Owl Pumpkin Ale, The Great Pumpkin Imperial Ale, Dark O' The Moon Pumpkin Stout and their limited edition Hansel & Gretel Ginger Pumpkin Pilsner. An eclectic assortment. Something for everyone, as far as we’re concerned.


Earlier this year, our friend Cyrus Sutton sold all that he owned and went south in search of surf. Travelling in his E-250 Econoline (which appears to be suffering from hydroencephalitis), Cyrus documented an assortment of experiences along the way, including some quality time in the tube.


Shaping the Northwest #2

Our friends at Warm Current and WAVES for Development have teamed up for the second annual Shaping the Northwest fundraiser. The event, which will take place on Thursday, October 3rd in Portland, OR, will feature locally shaped surfboards from some of the northwest’s finest shapers, as well as surf art and photography, music, a silent auction, raffle items, tamales and beer! $10 donations are being accepted at the door. Click here to learn more about the event.

A Short Stay

With the forecast calling for twelve-foot waves and wind outta the south, our friends at Moment Surf Co. were prepared to cancel the 15th Annual Cape Kiwanda Longboard Classic. But with a slice of Saturday looking less shitty than the rest of the weekend, Jeff decided to squeeze the entire contest into one day; their fingers firmly crossed that the wind wouldn't arrive any earlier than anticipated. We pulled into Pacific City around 11am on Friday, having stayed the night at the Commodore Hotel in Astoria the night prior (a hotel I would recommend to anyone staying in Oregon).

It was ugly, to say the least. Waves breaking across the beach, a wall of white water awaiting anyone that was willing. It was also raining. We stayed inside Stimulus most of the afternoon, working and whatnot. Shortly after we ate lunch, Jeff asked for our help setting up the projector and screen onto which they would play Cyrus Sutton's new film, Compass_ing, later that evening. Festivities followed. Pale Ale and pulled pork. The movie and live music. We retired to Derek and Laura's cabin for a night cap and then passed out in the back of our rental van.

The swell showed up Saturday. A-frames all over the place. Big ones. The first heat saw one broken board and more than a few frightened faces. We watched the waves for awhile and then decided to head north in search of something smaller. We pulled outta Pacific City shortly after 10am and headed north on Highway 101. We cut across to Portland, connected with Interstate-5, then drove North and reconnected with 101 shortly after Olympia. From there the highway leads North through Shelton, past Potlach and around Dabob Bay before turning west toward Sequim. A long drive, but a beautiful one.

Hold On We're Going Home

What I've been listening to lately...


Pulau Dewata

Second half of a two-part video series highlighting Jack Lynch's 31 day escape to Indonesia.


Seasonal Affective Disorder

Seattle sucks sometimes. Particularly from the end of October through, oh, say the end of June. Which leaves just three months of not-so-sucky Seattle. It's not all bad, though, the foul weather does encourage us to escape, spending two or three days a week out west. But it's still cold and wet and windy. And come December you're all but exhausted; tired of wearing wool and rubber boots and raincoats, and no matter what you do, everything you own will get wet. And then the surf can suck. Sitting in your car, waiting for waves. It's tough. Which is why we've decided to spend December somewhere down south.

It would've been the same place we went last winter, but ol' Uncle Sam wasn't having it. Long story. So, with only a few more months before Seasonal Affective Disorder does serious damage, we've been scrambling to sort out where we wanna surf. Everything is expensive that time of year, though. Everyone trying to escape their fucked up families, cancelling Christmas, and celebrating the start of a new year somewhere other than at home, on the couch, with the television turned on. Understandable. But also unfortunate. Because it drives the price of everything up. Anyhow. My father invited us to Oahu. He'll be there for the better part of three weeks, and has room for a few more people. But we wanted to go somewhere we hadn't been before, somewhere without so many white people ;) And so last night, after many messages and endless emails, we finally decided where we're gonna go: Costa Rica.


New Way Vah

David Nuuhiwa surfing his signature stick sometime in the sixties. As seen on Capitan Surfocker.

Strawberry-Mango Margaritas

Friday was full of Fuck. USDA Choice. Some of that Non-GMO, grass fed, free range Fuck. With our third Mobile Surf Movie scheduled for Saturday evening outside the Moment Surf Co. in Pacific City, OR, we had planned to skip town around five on Friday and drive all the way down. Typical. Something we do every week. But on her way to pick me up from my office, Karissa put the front end of Fargo into the back of a blue Hyundai. The impact pushed the front bumper into the tire, preventing Fargo from rolling forward. Fucked. Luckily, the accident happened withing walking distance of where I was.

After I arrived, and had yelled and screamed, myself and the man who's back end had been bludgeoned, struggled to stretch Fargo's front bumper back. In the end it took a tow truck, two-by-four, crowbar, four pound sledge hammer and some Coast Guard kid (whom we met outside the Home Depot, who just so happened to have a 9,000lb Warn winch on the front of his truck), in order for Fargo's front wheel to move freely. It was after eight by the time we hit the highway. And three hours later we were in Astoria, camped out in a dark corner of the Comfort Suites' parking lot, listening to a bunch of seals having some kind of wild sex orgy.

We drove all the way down to Pacific City the next morning, stopping in Seaside for but a few minutes. It looked awesome everywhere. A small swell, little to no wind and low tide. We parked at the Pelican Pub, pulled our boards out the back of the van, slipped on some rubber suits and paddled out. There were a few fun ones. Okay, a lot of fun ones. And it was nice to see some familiar faces. Afterward, we ate tacos and drank mango-strawberry margaritas at Ben & Jeff's. Then we climbed the giant sand dune. Bad idea. Shortly before the sun began to set, we pulled the van into the parking lot behind Moment Surf Co. and setup our stuff.

The film was a lot of fun. Everyone crowded around our cargo van in the paved parking lot right behind the surf shop. The taco stand stayed open late so people could eat and drink. Beers were bought, schwag was scattered amongst the stoked and we may have drank a few more margaritas. The evening ended around eleven, I think. Wind and wild waves arrived first thing Sunday morning. Hungover and hungry, we ate a big breakfast and then headed north toward Tillamook. A rather depressing "tour" of the cheese factory was followed by beers at Bill's Brewhouse, pizza and a four hour drive home in the dark. Not sure why we hadn't headed south sooner?!


Golden State

Cool little film created by Jack Coleman featuring the ever impressive Kassia Meador.


Quite the Conundrum

So, we're in a bit of pickle. Ready to return to one of the most amazing places in Mexico, we've run into a road block. Our friend is in the Air Force, and right now she is unable to travel to that particular part of the Mexican mainland. Unfortunate, yes, but not the end of the world. We just need to find somewhere else to surf. Where there's warm water and whatnot. Sounds simple. How about Hawaii, or why not Nicaragua? Yes, those are also awesome, but the more I look at our alternatives, the more I want to go back to where we were last winter.

That long left. Breaking slowly over a rock reef. Fifteen feet from our front door. Which, I might add, did a damn fine job of keeping out all kinds of critters. We'd wake up early and look out the little window in the kitchen to see how big the waves were. After drinking a big cup of instant coffee and eating a brown banana, we'd slip into our shorts, er, a Seea suit in Karissa's case, and proceed to paddle all the way out to the point - which will feel like five miles after the first three or four days.

The wave begins breaking about fifteen-hundred feet from shore. Maybe more. One wave will take awhile, but you'll be grinning like an idiot while you paddle back to the point. And so therein lies our issue; where the fuck do we go from here?! Where can we find a wave - long and left, soft and slow - that is as easily accessible? Where there's warm water and cheap beer. Where the people aren't pretentious and hammocks hang from the front porch and you eat avacados and eggs every afternoon. We're exploring other options. But we'll need to go back. Because there really isn't anywhere else that can compare.


Matix + Tyler

Short film highlighting a forthcoming clothing collaboration between Tyler Hatzikian and Matix.


Faraway Friends

Friends are funny. Some of them you see all the time; maybe once or twice a week. Some you only see on certain occasions - like at birthday parties or baseball games. And then there's that whole other group. The ones you see like once or twice a year... if you're lucky. But what's funny is not the fact that you are "friends" with someone you see so seldomly, but that you can be such good friends with said people. Maybe they moved, or perhaps they reproduced, and the time you once enjoyed together has since been cut short by other obligations. Example: I have an old friend coming into town today, someone we lovingly endowed with the appellation, 'Fuckin' Eddy.'

He and I partied played lacrosse together in high school and surfed every summer when he would come home from college. He moved to the southern part of Spain a few years following the end of his education, and although we rarely see each other, when we do, it's as though not a single day has passed. Fuckin' Eddy is a good friend. And so are a lot of the people we surfed with this weekend. People we hadn't seen since last summer. People that can't come out often, but sure know how to have a good time when they do get away for the weekend. And as much as I wish we could surf and camp together more often, I'm glad we have a group of friends that can withstand the test of time.