Bing Surfboards: Fifty Years of Craftsmanship and Innovation, which not only highlights five decades of surfboard manufacturing, but Bing Copeland's personal and professional life, as well as his role in the evolution of surfing and surfboard design. This hardcover coffee-table style book measures 9.5" x 12.25" and features 192 pages of information and images, including a variety of vintage photographs, handwritten pages from old-school order books and every Bing advertisement ever published. Separated into sections that help tell the story of both Bing and his surfboard business, Holmes' book pays homage to the Bing brand, as well as an assortment of individuals that were involved in its evolution.
In addition to highlighting the history, the book features a complete review of all Bing Surfboards models and the contributions they made to surfboard design, as well as three pages dedicated specifically to fin design. An excellent addition to my ever growing collection of surf history schwag, Bing Surfboards: Fifty Years of Craftsmanship and Innovation is more than just a book about boards. It tells a tale. A story that starts in 1959 and continues today, with Matt Calvani building boards the same way Bing did back in the day. So buy the book and learn a little something about surfboards. Just don't let it collect dust like all those other big coffee-table books you've bought!
I remember stumbling into his surf shop as a kid - I was all sorts of overzealous and idealistic - and there'd be Jeff, sitting behind the counter, chatting with all the weekend warriors and summer surfers, seemingly unaware of their kook like condition. He was honest, but knew how to keep a secret. He never naysayed other peoples opinions, but instead offered his own. Honestly, I'm not sure he's aware of the role he's played in my life. Because he helped me stay stoked at a time in my life when surfing came second, or third. He inspired me to smile more, to not take myself so seriously and to watch Star Wars on the weekends. Which is why surfing with him last Sunday was a long awaited opportunity to share the stoke he helped cultivate. I can only hope to inspire others the way he has inspired me.
big black buoy. Purple potatoes and skirt steak, avocados and eggs. Little lingcod tacos and peach pie and some big ass breakfast burritos. But it wasn't because there weren't any waves. Oh no. Saturday saw a sizeable swell show up; albeit a little messy with intervals of no more than six or seven seconds. But there were waves. Fun ones. And Jeff and Ina were in attendance. It was the first time we had surfed with them this summer. I can't tell you how good it was to see the Brahlai Lama and his offspring. We were in the water for four or five hours, sharing short slides and a lots of laughs. Exhausted from our summer stoke harvest, we retired to the warmth of whiskey and wood. It was an excellent evening. One filled with good food, old friends and big bubbles!
I suppose it was that first winter we decided to surf that I began to improve, ever so slowly. Trimming was my first trick. Finding some sort of rhythm - shuffling my feet forward to increase acceleration. It worked well, however I was still somewhat of a one-trick-pony when the swell stacked up: big bottom turn, toward the top, then pull out like I misplaced my prophylactic as soon as the water turned white. Amateur hour. All winter. Slowly, though, things started to come together. One leading into another. My shuffle for speed soon became a single step. My bottom turns no longer took a lot of time, and my ability to make a white washed section of a wave improved immensely. Progress. Finally.
We had arrived early, pulling out of Port Angeles around eight a.m., stopping quickly for coffee and eating shitty cereal and soy milk as we went west. Our excitement faded fast when we found ourselves nut-to-butt with a half billion car campers. Where in the fuck did everyone come from?! More to the point, how the fuck did they hear about this particular place?! It seemed odd, honestly, as most of these people seemed more interested in drinking than any sort of outdoor activity... you know, like surfing. So I really shouldn't complain. They can have the campground, and I'll take the ocean!
The wind didn't die down, in case you were wondering. It was full of fuck all afternoon. But you gotta go, because there isn't anything else to do besides drink and eat. There were a few fun ones, though. Some long, lumpy lefts. The occasional closeout. And all sorts of short right shoulders. It could have been better. But shitty surf beats just about anything. And we ended the evening with a bottle of wine and birthday cake. I really can't complain. Follow the link for a few more photos courtesy of Karissa.
- Matt Calvani
Click here to read the SurfScience interview in its entirety.
Fargo the Cargo Van for an evening of sixties stoke! We'll be showing Blue Surfari on the smooth side of our creepy cargo carrier, Saturday, August 31st and Sunday, September 1st shortly after sunset. This is the first of three 'Mobile Surf Movies,' sponsored by Stoke Harvester, that we'll be showing this September! Click here for additional info.
If you're not already familiar with this fellow, allow me to introduce you to the infamous Austin Vince. Englishman. Explorer. Filmmaker. Friend. Austin is exceptional in almost every way. I met him a few years ago, shortly after I took a job at Touratech. We had sponsored his presentation at The Georgetown Stables - the same small space where my wedding reception took place. To say that what we saw was inappropriate would be an understatement. There were giant black dildos and all sorts of strap on sexual devices. Fucks flew. It was awesome. After the event, Austin and I shot the shit for awhile. He talked about all the excuses people use, the reasons they say something can't happen or why it never will. He seemed determined to tell people they should give less fucks and just go for it. It was inspiring. And we've been friends ever since. So when I saw this short bit of film featuring my foul mouthed friend, I figured I should share some of his wisdom with the world. Click here to learn more about Austin Vince.
So when I paddled out last Sunday, with a heavy fog sitting a few feet above the water, it appeared that I was the only one out there. I caught a couple clean ones - waist high waves without wind - then waited for the wife. I'd spent the last few days surfing Jeff's old Jacobs, but finally found a bit of basecoat (thanks Derek!) and re-waxed my Feral Pig for a Sunday session. She felt fantastic under my feet. It had been so long since I'd surfed my swine. Forgot how well she works. When the fog finally lifted - the sun turning grey water to bright blue - I realized there were six or seven other surfers who weren't afraid of the fog. I caught one in, showered and then wandered back to take a few photos.
By the time I made it back to the beach, a fresh batch of fog had settled on the sand. I waited for the wind, taking photos when I could see clearly. Karissa stayed out for a few fun ones, but the conditions weren't getting any better so she came in rather quickly. After cleaning up our camp, we filled Fargo and headed for Angel's house, where we surprised Karissa with a strawberry chocolate cheesecake. Her birthday being the following Tuesday, and Angel wanting to cook something incredible, it was an excellent excuse to eat something awesome. We didn't get home till ten, but that goddamn cake was worth the wait.
The first weekend in August is always interesting. Summer surfers, car campers and kids are everywhere. The weather, however, is almost always excellent - a fantastic mix of summer sun and that early fall fog. We arrived late Friday night after eating dinner with Karissa's mother and youngest sister, Courtney. I woke up early the next morning and found myself sitting on a surfboard with nothing but coffee and a brown banana in my belly. Surfed for six hours, stopping only to eat some dried mango slices covered in dark chocolate (yea, you read that right). And while I was waiting for waves, Dino was busy putting the pig in his La Caja China roasting box - what is essentially a wood crate lined in aluminum.
Fast forward a few hours and everyone was up to their elbows in pig parts. A potluck style setting meant mashed sweet potatoes, macaroni salad, coconut cake and freshly caught lingcod fought for space on our plates and in our bellies. Pig was the priority, though, and most people piled it high. Everything from skin to shoulder. It was incredible, as was everything that accompanied it. Dino even talked us into eating a bit of the brain! But after two plates of pork and one mean Mai Tai, I had met my match. For whatever reason, though, a few of us decided to surf post pig - watching the sun set as our stomachs stretched. Not my finest moment. It was a wonderful weekend, however, filled with friends and family and lots of food.