Jared Mell + Central America

Jared Mell surfing somewhere in Central America. Shot and edited by James Kinnaird.

Waist Deep

I had been in the water for awhile. Five hours following a big breakfast, on what was our second day of surfing after a handful of weekends without waves, or too much wind. I was exhausted. Arms unable to bring my board back from the beach. A beer was all I wanted. Some kind of cold can. But because I had been paddling back and forth, looking for that perfect peak, I was about a quarter mile south of where I started - which is one hell of a long walk when there's a Feral Pig under you arm.

Right as I rounded the corner into the campground, Andy came running - wetsuit around his waist, my waterproof camera in his hand. "Get back out there, Juice!" Fuck. "Just a few photos. You and Karissa are always taking pictures of me, it's time I returned the favor." Fair. But I was in no condition to continue. Tired is an understatement. But there was still stoke to be mined, and Andy was willing to take a few photos - evidence of our efforts. So I paddled out, pitched a few tight turns and tried to twinkle some toes. Thankfully the camera was damn near dead, so there was only time for five or six photos.

Meniscectomy

A short bit of film made by Thomas Brown, featuring the smooth sliding styles of Jack Norton.

Summer Stuff

Sixty five and sunny spells summer in Seattle. Everyone slips on their shorts and their sandals and the sunglasses buried in their glove compartment. They ride their bikes along Alki and fill their Coleman coolers full of Corona. All the things they wish they could do more than once or twice every twelve months. For me, however, summer means spending even more time outside of the city - shooting slingshots and building big ass fires and cooking with cast iron. It means eight hours in the water, jazzing some goddamn glass. And drinking big brown bottles of beer that I can barely lift because my arms are all out of energy. Yes, summer might be short lived, but that doesn't mean you can't make the most of it. Because after all, the sweet wouldn't be as sweet without the sour. And having some cool stuff might help you have a little more fun. Follow the link to see what's on my summer shit list.

Wavves

It's sunny and warm outside (warning: if you read this in the Seattle area and I have written this a few days ago, this statement may no longer be valid), so for my first music pick, I've chosen a song from a San Diego-based surf/punk/lo-fi band called Wavves. Their new album, "Afraid of Heights," has been out since March and features some Nirvana-inspired riffs and self-loathing lyrics. Unlike Nirvana, however, Wavves is based in So-Cal, so any self-depreciating moments usually end in "screw it, let's go surf." Check out the 'Lord of the Flies' thing they've got going on in this video for "Demons to Lean On."

This bit of music was brought to you by Bokanev.

One Wave

Cyrus Sutton sliding something small, somewhere down south. Found on Regressing Forward.

Eighty One & Offshore

Some people go to church on Sunday. Some stay home and nurse a nasty hangover, or have a late breakfast with a few friends. I on the other hand, manage to accomplish all three. What used to feel like a lot of work - a few too many around the fire, followed by overzealous idiots eager to be the first ones in the water - Sunday mornings are now my time to sleep in, drink coffee, eat food with friends and paddle out when I feel it's appropriate. Praise my Lord. Sunday surf is my religion. The small swell and offshore winds my church. And the friends I share my coffee with, that's the congregation.

I used to feel rushed. Burdened by the agenda of others - mostly people unwilling to surf solo, excited to share the experience. Fair enough. But ever since I met Brandy and Angel, all of that has changed. No longer am I anxious. Worried the waves will go away. I take more time. Not because I'm nursing the aforementioned hangover, or because I'm lazy (anyone that knows me will vouch for my endless energy), it's because there will always be waves. More on Monday. A few more on Friday. And I am tired of surfing on someone else's schedule.

So this Sunday was similar. We woke up around eight, maybe nine. Brewed a few cups of coffee on our crappy camp stove, ate bread and bananas and peanut butter and paddled out when we wanted to. The swell had shrunk - down about a foot. But the wind was still working and it was all sorts of sunny. I surfed for four or five hours, until my arms could no longer propel me properly. Goddamn it was good.

2013 Cape Kiwanda Longboard Classic

The 15th annual Cape Kiwanda Longboard Classic will take place from September 20th-22nd in Pacific City, OR. The event, which is sponsored by our friends at Moment Surf Company, will play host to more than 100 longboarders competing in 20 minute heats, for two consecutive days. So if you're into that sorta thing, I suggest you head south this September, sign up and show off your stuff. Click here for additional info. Click here for a few photos from last year's competition.

May Day

And then there's that day. The one that makes all those ugly ones worth the waste. The winter months without. The cold and the rain and the wind. It's almost unbearable. But this'll make it better. Because the wind wasn't from the west. And the waves weren't closing out like a grocery store after Easter. No. There were golden green faces and long white tails across the top. There were lots of lefts and just the right amount of rights. We surfed for six hours. Maybe more. The sun was starting to set at the end of our second session. Exhausted. Angel and Andy had arrived and were putting on their wetsuits when I wandered back from the beach. After a short shower and a small snack, I walked back just in time to catch our friend Cash making the most of what little light was left. I took a few photos, built a big fire with the boys and ate one too many tacos. Saturday, you did not suck.

Damn Van

Jay Nelson, a San Francisco based artist known for constructing abstract abodes on the back of automobiles, recently redid the inside of Rob Machado's surf wagon. As seen on the Surfer's Journal.

Tellason Topper Denim Shirt

I try not to take too much shit with me when we go surfing on the weekends. Two t-shirts, two pairs of socks, one pair of pants, something warm to wear and some kinda baseball cap. Only the essentials. Things I can take to work with me in my Duck Camo Daypack. Recently, however, I've been wearing my Topper Denim Shirt instead of outerwear, and skipping the socks in favor of flip-flops.

The shirt, which is hand-sewn in San Francisco by our friends at Tellason, is rope-dyed and made from 6.5 oz. Cone Mills White Oak denim. It's an interesting mix of western and work, with a broad yoke on the back and a plethora of pockets, including a place to put your pencil. It has a wider collar than most shirts that I wear, but I've become quite fond of it, actually. Keeps my neck warm at night.

The stitching is an off-yellow color and there are two buttons at each end of the sleeves, which makes rolling them up that much easier. I've washed it once, just to see how much it might shrink, however I wear it on top of a t-shirt, which helps keep the shirt from getting too funky. Yes, it's expensive, but I'll be damned if any denim shirt from Sears can compare. And besides, it'll only get better with age.

The Noserider

Tyler Surfboards test pilot, Josh Gilberts, surfing a ten-foot Noserider somewhere down south.