"Mondays ain't so bad... It's your job that sucks!"

When I had a desk job, I would daydream about surfing on Monday morning, when the weekend warrior crowd - myself included - had returned to their shitty urban existences. I would look at weather reports, surf forecasts and the few cams along the coast. Photos from friends that lived out west would make their way onto the internet, highlighting a swell I could not surf. Sad. When the weekend would roll around, I was all too eager to escape. Sometimes we'd head west without looking at what lay ahead. Foolish. Now that I am an independent contractor, working from wherever I want - and whenever I want for that matter - the ability to surf during the week has become a reality. Whether it's a Monday morning, Thursday evening, or shortly before sunset on Sunday, I can now surf when I want, not when I am allowed.

An example... We've been dog sitting for friends these last few days. Double wiener dogs: Maggie and Millie. Wrapping up a bit of work over the weekend, and allowing the rain and foul weather to make its way inland, we skipped town on Sunday afternoon following a late breakfast. After burgers at The Bushwhacker, we parked in front of a friends place and called it an evening. The sun was what woke us on Monday morning, peeking through the back curtain of our cargo van. We ate a quick breakfast before heading west in search of surf. On our way out I noticed my friend Cash's van parked just outside of town - my guess was that he'd caught a ride all the way out, having seen the same forecast as myself: offshore winds, waves about waist high, clear skies, the works. And that is exactly what awaited us. Cash and Nick were already in the water. I snapped a few photos through the trees and then slipped into my suit and began the great stoke harvest.

Forecast

The all too familiar sounds of NOAA's weather band broadcast. Shot and edited by Mikey DeTemple.

Six Reasons Wetsuits Don't Suck

As much as I might complain about wearing one, wetsuits are really quite incredible. Within my lifetime they've gone from bulky, expensive ocean activity outfits, to thin, flexible, affordable and extremely warm outerwear. Jack O'Neil really does deserve an award or something. Because without his innovation, all of us cold water surf seekers would go without waves - surfing only in the summer months, when the sun shines high in the sky. This realization really resonated with me these last few months, as the weather turned from fall to freezing. And albeit a bit colder, my ability to surf was all but unimpeded. Yes, gloves and booties are no longer optional accessories, but at least I'm able to spend three or four hours in the ocean, seemingly unaffected by the rain and the wind and forty-five degree water. So that got me thinking; what are some of the other advantages that come with wearing a wetsuit?

Closest Sea

Not to crack an egg before buying a frying pan... I can say that Kyra and I might be headed west in something like six weeks. WAY west... To a place I've always dreamed of visiting. Where we'll surf, ride motorcycles, drink whiskey and eat EVERYTHING! Stoked? You bet. Been browsing the intersphere for surf shit from that side of the sea. Found this fun little video shot by Tsukasa Tsujishima. Stay tuned!

Finterview: The Phi-n and The Flowthru

Many months ago, while visiting my infamous friend Mike - math teach, father, friend and fellow swine slider - I asked him about a board I'd seen on his blog, something he called Blackstoke II. It was a pig shaped by Marc Andreini with a traditional style skeg affixed to the far end. Only this skeg was hollow in the center - a "flothru" fin Mike informed me. Obviously interested, Mike explained its origins, described how it surfed to the best of his abilities, etc. The next time I was in town, Mike laid a blue folder on his kitchen counter - inside was roughly 1,500 words regarding 'The Science of Surfing.' I won't divulge too many details, as I believe this story will find its way into a surf publication sometime soon, but what I can tell you is that tucked into the back of the folder was a sketch of a skeg, affectionately named 'The Phi-n.'

Math equations danced around the drawing. Mike had even cut one out of graph paper, and placed it atop a tracing of another skeg, so that he could describe the differences more effectively. And so that I could see. His 'Phi-n' was shaped using science, er, math - whichever. The conversation took a turn, and then Mike disappeared into another room to nap with his daughter and three of his five dogs. I was intrigued. A few weeks later Mike sent me a message: "Matt is making me another Feral Pig! It'll be white, with a big yellow cigar stripe and a fin-box." Wait... "A fin-box? What the fuck for?" I asked. To which Mike replied, "You'll see." And then came an image on Instagram. A snap shot of David and Mike's collaboration - two fins, each extraordinarily unique. I've asked Mike to give us a bit more info about both. Follow the link to learn more.

Log Riding in Barbados

Cyrus Sutton shot this beautiful short film while logging in Barbados (via Korduroy.TV)

"You've Gotta Be Good Before You Can Be Great."

I'm struggling with the words. This place, how beautiful it can be. Isolated from all the nonsense, all the noise. September was the last time. We had ridden our motorcycles from Seattle to the sea, camped on the coast, and then headed north toward Lummi Island - what would be the end of our month motorcycle long trip around the Pacific Northwest. I didn't surf in September. Instead, I jumped the little dirt "road" that cuts across the campground, hiked into hidden spots, found a few new ones, spent time at our favorite coffee shack and then turned and rode back on the same highway that carried us in. During our stay last summer, onshore winds blew a light mist across the beach one evening. Blocked only by the tall trees that separate you from the sand, you would be misted like an unsuspecting shopper in the produce section of PCC when you walked past any one of the beach entrances. It was wonderful. As was our entire experience that week.

This time, however, we arrived with the van and some surfing boards. It was a last minute decision. With our list of obligations growing ever shorter in Seattle, Kyra and I decided that an old fashioned 'get the fuck outta town' was in order. So we loaded my logs into the van, found our warm wetsuits and headed west. I haven't surfed since October, when we had stopped at San Onofre before crossing the border into Baja. And while it's a lot like riding a bike, the longer you stay away the more you'll suck - as far as I'm concerned. My four month absence was felt immediately. The first few were weird. Balance a bit off. But like any good addict, old habits die hard, and within an hour a great deal of stoke was being harvested. Winds blew offshore all day... for two days. The sun, it was there also. Something like sixty degrees. Friends we hadn't seen in forever arrived in the afternoon one day. Campfires, cold beers, hot dogs in brown buns, and some of those epic fucking sunsets you only see on our side.

Skipping Breakfast

Beutiful bit of film featuring an assortment of Aussies surfing Noosa (?) before breakfast.

Egadz

What I've been listening to lately...

The Coffey Cabin & The Coffee Company

I've been living out of a van for the better part of a year now. You know the one - she's big and white with an overbuilt bed. I left Seattle at the end of February, headed south in search of surf, and so on. What awaited me was, well... you can read about that here. Fast forward a few months, and I was back in Seattle, packing my belongings into the aforementioned cargo carrier, preparing for a return trip to the Golden State. I spent the next few months living in the Los Feliz neighborhood of Los Angeles, working remotely and surfing Malibu more than a few days each week. At the end of June, Kyra's dance school came to completion and we headed north (again) in order to attend the annual Touratech Rally, as well as spend the remainder of the summer in Seattle preparing for our month long motorcycle trip to Mexico.

During our summer in Seattle, a friend of mine reached out regarding a local, independently owned coffee roasting company that was in need of some social media assistance. I jumped at the opportunity - despite my attempts to convince them to allow me to work remotely. A steady source of income and a chance to expand my skills beyond the surfing and motorcycling community was reason enough. So I sat down for an interview with the Marketing Director, Public Relations Coordinator and Digital Media Manager. Things went well, however we were just a few weeks away from our departure to Mexico. "No sweat," they said. "We're not looking to hire anyone until the end of the year." Perfect! A few weeks later, Kyra, my father and I packed our bags, our bikes and our vans and headed south... again.

Throughout the duration of our time in Mexico, and the weeks thereafter that we spent in Southern California, Las Vegas and Arizona, I never received confirmation when I was to start work, or whether I had even been hired! Emails were sent. Feet were dragged. And then, after extensive conversations with the coffee roasters liaison, I got word that I should come back to Washington. "Are you sure? I don't want to leave this sunshine shit for a 'maybe'?" I asked. The answer was affirmative. "Come on up, we want you to start the first Monday of the new year." And so we packed our shit - yet again - and departed the comfort of California for the cold (read: shitty) weather of Washington.

That Monday I walked into my new office and assumed the position. I really can't complain, though. It was a cool company with an eclectic marketing team, willing and able to do things the corporate coffee companies couldn't. Not more than three weeks after I had arrived in their offices, however, I found myself sitting in front of a newly hired, er, acquired General Manager who had spent the better part of two decades working for the Great Green Mermaid. Why did the independent, locally owned coffee company hire this guy you ask? Money! Duh. And so here I sat, the first of many, no, all in the marketing department that would lose their job that day. WTF?! Yea, you're telling me. A swift move with a sharp knife. Gone we were.

Now you're probably wondering what the fuck this has to do with pictures of an apartment... Well, lets just say Kyra and I spent the entirety of my employment with "The Company" looking for, finding, acquiring and furnishing this; a large by comparison, hardwood-floor-having, W/S/G included, French Fucking Doors, walk-my-ass-to-work, studio apartment in Seattle's shittiest neighborhood, Capitol Hill. It was, er, is a beautiful space that we spent a great deal of time getting settled into. Le Fuck. So, that's what this is all about. A rant. An excuse to show you - Hi Karissa ;) - the short lived apartment of my dreams in the worst part of a city that Kyra and I never wanted to return to. Enjoy!

Blue Panel Pig

Chris from POA Films shot this at Sliders Point during our #peelgrimage to Southern California.

King Wizard

What I've been listening to lately...