The Voyage of the Cormorant

Over the course of 22 months, Christian Beamish, a former editor at The Surfer's Journal, built an 18-foot Oughtred Ness Yawl in his single-car garage, and then sailed solo from San Diego to the southern part of the Baja Peninsula searching for surf and solitude. Published by Patagonia, The Voyage of the Cormorant chronicles Beamish's "low-tech, self-reliant exploration for surf along the coast of North America, using primarily clothes and instruments available to his ancestors." His journey, at least from what I've read, was an arduous one and is certainly worth reading about.

Sunny August

Joe Davies surfing somewhere sunny at the end of Summer. As seen on The Boda Surfamily blog.

Mustard or Kites?

Some strange questions came out around the campfire. "Mustard or kites?" being one of them. Wind was working all weekend, so we were without waves. Banana pancakes for breakfast followed by a couple'a cups of coffee. Then a calm in the crap came, so I stole Shawn's Surf Thump and paddled out for a few. And while there wasn't much to work with, I enjoyed every wave I had on that Almond - a burnt orange board, nine feet eight inches long, with tres largueros, a concave nose and glassed on D fin. Damn thing was delicious. A log everyone can love. Follow the link for a few more photos.

Wave Garden

From the film Gastrologging comes this short surfboarding excursion to the Wavegarden in San Sebastián, Spain - a man made wave making machine "for people not fortunate enough to have an ocean break nearby." It's the best bit of their film, as far as I'm concerned. Logs and little waves. Wonderful.

What Wonderful Waves

What wonderful waves we had, the Wednesday before our wedding. The swell was small, but them waves couldn't have been any better. Nehi Soda and some offshore wind. I surfed my dad's stick. A ten foot Mark Martinson that allows for big, silly bottom turns and effortless excursions to the end. Thursday saw more of the same shit. Offshore and ankle high. Summer sliding at its finest. My mother, who was in town for the wedding, took a few photos. Unfortunately, however, I was her only subject.

Getting Involved

Involvement era enthusiast, Matt Chojnacki, shredding some gnar at Noosa Heads.

Gonzo

“Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives... and to the "good life", whatever it is and wherever it happens to be.”

- Hunter S. Thompson

"Nature rule, Daniel-san, not mine."

Ever wonder what'd happen if you gave your camera to a kid? Sunset shots. Candid captures. Macro flower photos. I was honestly impressed. And I didn't edit any of these images - Scout's Honor. His name is Daniel Levandosky, and he's the son of a friend, of a friend, of a friend. Or something similar. He's Russian, about four feet tall and talks all the time. But that's beside the point. It's all about opportunity. Seeing something in someone. Because nowadays everyone is encouraged to act in accordance. To behave. To buy the same shit. iPhone and Xbox. To fall in line. To be taught, sans self reliance. But this little bastard does things differently. And I like that. Follow the link for a few of his photos.

Thrift Shop

What I've been listening to lately...

Leashless Lifestyle

So-Fran surfer, Margaux Arramon-Tucoo, living that leashless lifestyle (via Hayley Gordon).

2012 Cape Kiwanda Longboard Classic

Wanted to remind everyone that the 2012 Cape Kiwanda Longboard Classic will take place in just two weeks; from Friday, September 21st through Sunday, September 23rd. The event, which is now in its 14th year, will be held in Pacific City, a small surf town some thirty miles south of Tillamook, Oregon.

Click here for additional information.

Laborless Day

In the Pacific Northwest, most people paddle out two times every ten months. Memorial Day and Labor Day. So, as you might imagine, I have a love/hate relationship with these three day shit shows. On the one hand, it was a wonderful weekend full of friends and family, warm weather and a small swell. It was also a weekend full of ferry waits, kooks and a crowded campground. I complain. But the sweet wouldn't be as sweet without the sour.

Saturday the surf was small. Real small. Four or five hours, a few waves, then we cooked food over a campfire, drank blackberry gin fizz shit and passed out prematurely. Sunday it stood up a bit. Spent seven hours in the surf. I let Joe talk me into a sunset session. The gods were good. Hips to head for an hour and a half. Hung my first five on that big pig bastard. What a way to end the weekend.