Full of Fuck

Perhaps I have a problem. A week without waves and I'm all sorts of agitated. Two weeks and I'm intolerable. Wind'll make it worse. When it's small, I act like an asshole. And closeouts can make me cantankerous. It's an addiction, obviously. A constant craving exacerbated by brief moments of relief. But up where we are, it's not often you'll find a fix. Not one that'll last anyways. Because there seems to be a shortage of stoke at the moment, especially if you're just looking to score on Saturdays ;)

Anyhow. That's what happened this weekend. Full of fuck it was. Wind from the west. Thirty plus. Some of that sideways shit. We looked all over. Then a text message from Sanchez showed up. "The wind is supposed to die down later in the day." So we waited. Half an hour later Sanchez sent another note. "I'm throwing in the towel, it's time for a beer." What the hell. But then we went somewhere we shouldn't have. Five guys looking for a fix. Junkies in some basement bar. After a couple of cocktails and one too many "F-Bombs," we headed back to Bricky's. Intoxicated around eight, talking shit around ten and asleep at eleven. This is what happens when there aren't any waves.

Man Bear Pig

Tyler Surfboards test pilot, Mike Siordia, sliding their new 'Man Bear Pig' model.


After All

I purchased my first pair of Rainbow Sandals at the Cheka-Looka Surf Shop in September of 2002. Since that summer they've traveled to eight or nine different countries, both sides of the United States and accumulated countless miles - seven of which were spent running through some backwoods part of Pennsylvania in search of two missing co-workers. And while they've certainly seen better days, I decided I'd rather wear them out than spend a week waiting for them to be repaired.

So while in Mexico a few months ago - attempting to save a certain someone's stick from a rock reef - the fabric bit that slips between your toes came loose. It was only a matter of time, really. The sole had worn through, exposing the toe strap attachment point. Something you'd expect after spending so much time in the same pair of sandals. Anyhow, I spent the rest of my trip wearing a pink pair of plastic flip-flops that Karissa purchased prior to our departure. Embarrassing indeed. And while I wanted to send my sandals back to San Clemente when I returned to the states, I decided it best to just buy a new pair.

So there they are. My fresh set of Rainbow Sandals. They're the same 'Premier Leather Sierra Brown Double Layer Arch' business that I bought before. They're stiff, feel sorta small and smell a little strange. But I know what'll happen after I wear them for awhile - they'll form to my feet. And before long I won't be willing to go anywhere without them. Essentials. Click here to read a post about my old pair.


A few frames featuring Harrison Roach and his new Thomas Bexon board. Brought to you by Deus Bali.



A fantastic bit of film featuring a few of our favorite things. Produced by Decoster Pandora.



When times are tough, I try to form a mental image of something exciting. An escape. Envisaging if you will - "to conceive an image or a picture, especially as a future possibility." It takes the bad taste outta my mouth. Like when there aren't any waves, or when I spend too much time away from the water. But lately I haven't been able to. I close my eyes and try to imagine myself cross-stepping toward the tip, pointing my foot forward, hanging five, maybe ten. But it wasn't believable. Not because I can't cross-step, but because it's been so long since I have.

Now I'll admit, its only been two weeks since I last soaked in the sea. But honestly, the last few times have been rather bad. Windy and waveless. Not worth the wait. And closing my eyes, trying to escape all this other stuff, just wasn't working. So this weekend, as unexcited as I was, I smiled when I saw waves. And today, when I close my eyes - eager to escape this dusty desk - I can see myself standing at the furthest most point of my pig. A most excellent escape. Follow the link for a few photos.

L'Amour Parfait

What I've been listening to lately...


Tel Aviv

I'll be in Israel at the end of the month. Ten days in Tel Aviv. This trip really caught me by surprise, though. Having recently returned from Mexico, I wasn't expecting any international excursions for quite some time. But when opportunity knocks, you never say no. So with just a few weeks until we head to the Holy Land, I thought I'd put together this #wishlist highlighting a few of the things I'd take to Tel Aviv.


Excuse the Roach

Harrison Roach testing a new Thomas Bexon surfboard on the Indonesian island of Bali.



Two years ago I drove down south for The One Motorcycle Show. It was in some sorta warehouse in an industrial part of Portland. Three stories tall... I think. There were beers for a buck, art all over the walls and more motorcycles than I cared to count. I met some interesting individuals that evening - Todd Blubaugh being one of them. I walked around all night; always a cold can in my coozie. It was excellent. For whatever reason, though, I didn't drive down last year. Probably cause I was trying to score some stoke (it's an addiction, I know). This year, however, I had to go to the show. Not because of an obligation to the industry in which I work, but because I wanted to be around bikes, and bikers. Because sometimes you need to stand outside. Take two steps back from what you've been doing. Surfing - sans everything else. Because it was time to do something different. To spend a few days with a few friends. To drink Old Fashioned's and eat big ass biscuits for breakfast. To daydream about building bikes and poke fun at Portland. To connect dots and whatnot. And it was a wonderful weekend. Without waves.

James Parry x Cardiff

Check out this short clip of James Parry surfing near San Diego. Brought to you by Bing Surfboards.


Foreign Film

A fantastic bit of film made by Matt Chenot sometime last summer. Don't sweat the small stuff.

Action Item

I stopped by Shawn's last night for a bit of a business meeting. You know, Action Items and all that other shit. Actually, we just sat around and watched White Caps. It's a fine new film made by the boys at Almond Surfboards. Lots of logging, some short sticks, pretty places, solid sounds and all the other stuff that makes a surf movie a surf movie. I'd write a review, but what's the point. $12 and you can keep it. So if you need something new, stop by Stoke Harvester and grab a copy while you can.


Super Bowl Sunday

I like football. Some of that American shit. Not soccer. Not that game where grown men throw themselves on the ground; clutching crotch and ankle, rolling around like a bunch of bitches. I like proper football, the nitty gritty. So I'm not opposed to the Super Bowl - even with all it's over thought ads and hypersensitivity training. It's alright as far as I'm concerned. At least it's a game where men act like men. So on Sunday, when there weren't waves out west, we figured we'd skip the surfing and just watch the Great Game. But as we drove past what has been an otherwise inactive spot this season, we saw swell. Not ones to waste waves, we pulled over, put on our Pataguccis and paddled out. There were three or four people poaching the peak: our friend Elizabeth, a young dude from somewhere down south and SeƱor Sanchez. The first few were fantastic. Shoulder high sets. Slow and steady. And then it tapered off. From five feet to four, then four to two. But it sure didn't suck, those long little lefts. Plenty of time to take it all in. Sorta like the Super Bowl. Without all the ads.


What I've been listening to lately...

Buzz Words

I had this dream a few years ago. In it was an elephant; old and grey, who looked right at me, said something stoic and then shook his head. He wasn't impressed. He remembered - what I'd done, who I'd become, the mistakes I had made. All the shit I didn't want to remember. All the shit I had suppressed. It should have been obvious, the elephant was there to help me remember my mistakes. So that maybe I wouldn't fuck up again... and again. You get it? Well, whatever he was supposed to symbolize, I've always liked the idea of elephants. Big and beautiful. Strong and silent. They're one of but a few animals that can assert their dominance without much effort. A gentle giant. And yet if you fuck with one, it'll pick you up and bang you against a tree and then step on you. Game over. Kinda like Cary Grant. Hard when he had to be. Anyhow. Enough with the elephant. Obviously I got a lil' ink. Some new shit from my friend Ian at Alki Beach Tattoo. Which, by the way, is a perfect place for those of you interested in something that sticks. You know, FOREVER. Follow the link for few photos courtesy of Karissa.


Bali x Costa Rica

Alex Knost surfing some single fins in Bali and Costa Rica. Filmed by Taylor Bonin (via RVCA).


Sundown Saturday

I got all fucked up Friday night. Went to a hockey game with my god brother and drank way too much whiskey. I was still spinning around 7am on Saturday. Ate a big breakfast, packed a small bag and hit the road in search of surf. With reports coming in from the coast: no swell in the straits - we decided to drive all the way out west. Four hours in Fargo felt like forever, though. My mind still wet with whiskey; staring out the window, trying to stay sober. But I'll be damned if it didn't look good when we got there. Head high or maybe more. Picking up and peeling off the sandbar that sits front and center. The sun was starting to set, however, so we decided to stay ashore, maybe surf in the morning. The weather was wonderful. Windless and warm enough. We built a big fire, two stories tall, cooked a couple of hot dogs and hung out with these two dudes who had been camped on the coast for forty-five days.


As a Whole

I think we get a little jaded. I think those of us that are over-informed need to remember that we’re over-informed. But I think we’ve all gotten so obsessed with chasing the buck and attempting to make ourselves different from everyone else that we sort of lost sight of how cool the whole activity is. As a whole, not just one little thing. And we also need to maybe take a step back for a second and appreciate it for what it is. You know what I mean? It’s rad, all categories. Bodyboarding’s rad, bodyboarders are rad - that shit’s hard as can be. You don’t believe me? Take a bodyboard out to Pipeline sometime.

- Joel Tudor

Click here to read Brendon Thomas' interview in its entirety.

Don't Kill My Vibe

What I've been listening to lately...