Friday, April 22, 2016

Of Beginnings, Endings, Numbers, and Wall-toWall Shag



Although all oceanic waves (deep water, shallow water, tsunami, standing...etc) are somewhat unique dynamic forces, a mathematical equation exists for each. Like all things, they can be reduced to ones and zeroes. Here's a well-shaped binary set on the horizon.
A well-shaped surfboard starts with code. Its ones and zeroes seek function with the individual wave's ones and zeroes. The product should equal fun.
I prefer shapes to numbers. These curves are the starting point for every surfboard.
Our human predilection for reduction commands us to simplify the complex curves into a simple one. In this case, surfboard reduced to single-dimensional plank of wood.
Our human predilection for extension commands us add complexity and dimension to the simple curves. In this case, surfboard carved into multi-dimensional slab of foam.
And, as we're talking human nature here, we make the thing into art. Can't help it--that's what we do, and we're the only creatures born to do it.
From complex to simple to complex again. Reduction and expansion. Numbers and curves. Ocean to mathematics to art right back into the ocean. The wheel spins.
Speaking of art, we replaced this carpet soon after the shot was taken.

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Strange Things are Afoot at the Circle J

I'm not going to lie to you, friends--things have been a little nuts lately.
First, we moved. Deep into the 'burbs. How deep? So deep that I, who's natural compass is as fine-tuned as a Russian spy satellite, have a difficult time making my way out of our 'circle' in the morning (all the street names end in 'circle'),.Or evening. It's like Groundhog Day, only on a five-minute loop.
The good news is that my kids love it. They only come inside at night, like turkeys. Also, like turkeys, they spend most of their days barefoot, pecking at each other and not paying particular heed to car traffic (which is, granted, mostly minivans trying to find their way off our circle).
The better news is that my new shop will be up and running soon, so very soon I can catch up on backorders and stop turning away nice folks who are interested in custom boards.
Speaking of boards, this one's for sale at SEALS Watersports here in Santa Rosa. It's my take on a 90s hi-pro longboard (rocker, volume), but with a bit beefier of a glass job than its predecessors, which tended to be as fragile as a polar ice cap with a Republican-dominated congress in office.
Excellent for our steeper beachbreak at any size, or pointbreaks at lower tides or when things start to pick up.
9'2"
 Looks like a baby square tail, but it's actually a rounded pin being swallowed by the lush, deep, slightly umami-smelling, 1980s-era shag carpeting of my new living room. Don't get too used to it--wood floors are on the way!
Shiny
This thing's got enough finboxes to keep even the most OCD tinkerer (me!) busy for a long while.
Go feel her up at SEALS if you have a few moments. Ask for Zeke--he's huge and could crush you, AND he's got a mess of kids, including a newborn, so be super nice.

Saturday, January 23, 2016

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

The Color Purplish

Twin-fin fish
Single Wing
 Streamlined
Good for any occasion

Thursday, December 3, 2015

Pret a Lambeau

(UPDATE: SOLD) 7'0 Clover for Zeke's shop--SEALS Watersports--conveniently situated one block from In 'N Out and less than fifty steps from Romelli Bail Bonds. Today could be your day to post bail, grab a new sled, order a Flying Dutchman off the secret menu (suck it, gluten!), then head to the coast to BLAST!!!! some of this swell that's still pumping with the rabidity of a Brazilian teenager's slender fist after landing an air reverse.
Clovers currently hold the title as my most-shaped all 'rounder for Northcoast surf. Will they allow you to sit out the back and compete with SUPpers for thigh-high Bo%*@as peelers? Nope, that's what a single fin log is for. I recommend the Bohemian.
Will they allow you to snap an over-vertical reo to grabless icepick 360 out into the flats? Hell no. You're a grownup, for chrissakes. If that's your ambition, you should put the Internet down and make yourself a nice salad, do some light stretching, and start a journal.
Besides, that move's not even a real thing--it's just a combination of words I don't understand from the last five years of Vans US Open webcasts.

This Clover will, however, take you where you need to go when you need to go there. Midlengths, which are enjoying a bit of a moment right now, can get the job done from waist high to anything over waist high you care to paddle into.
This one's a 2+1. And shiny.  And foiled out to feel lively under the feet and let the water know who's boss.




Friday, November 20, 2015

PopsiGlider

I like it when they go from this:

To this.

Rebecca's popsicle-icious Mini Glider for shredding OB waves in the fall and beyond.
This is an 8'6. What separates a Mini Glider from a standard longboard? Well, these mofos are designed for speed. With a well thought and executed rail shape/bottom contour, a single fin (flexie) is all that's necessary for control and stability.
Fast and stable for getting into tight situations, then getting the hell out of them.
Here's Rebecca handling a tight situation this morning in Nicaragua.
Recommended pairing: color-coordinated homemade popsicles. A couple of these after a solid shred sesh, and you'll have harnessed the stoke of your ten-year-old self on that summer vacation when you didn't wear shoes for what seemed like a month and drank from the hose for most of your meals.
Or pair with a couple of these if you want to harness the stoke of your sixteen-year-old self on that summer vacation when you didn't wear shoes for what seemed like a month and got to second base with Jen Gibby.

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Of Fire, Rain, Praying Manti, and Bitchin' Quads

Strange things are afoot in Sonoma County, friends. Portentous omens. Unsound eventualities. Weird shit.
Example 1: fire. And rain. In the same week. In September. For those familiar with the climate of Northern California, or familiar with our four-year drought, it's strange.
Example 2: I left my house last week, as I do on just about every day that I've lived there (once, I was super sick and didn't leave the house for a week. Another time, I shaped surfboards straight through for three days while my family was in Yosemite without me). Something on the sidewalk drew my eye. I had to inspect: a humungous praying mantis.
I'll refer to her as 'she', but really, I have no idea. As I squatted down (no small feat for someone with knees like mine) she moved her head to watch. I leaned to one side. She moved her head to follow. I leaned to the other. She did the same. It was a strange feeling to be connecting with an insect. To experience her cognitive powers. She was watching me. I held out my hand and she slowly crawled onto it.
I called my girls over, and we all checked her out. She took turns looking at each of our faces. She didn't move into an offensive or defensive position. I held her close to the ground, but she made no motions to escape. We were in each other's thrall for a solid three minutes, which to six-and-eight year olds may as well be an entire day.
Then I dropped her to the sidewalk and we squashed her with a satisfying crunch.
Just kidding! We put her in the garden in the backyard.
As you know, in these trying times we seek out the constants. The dependable. The comfortable. The fresh baguette in these most carbo-free of paleo days. The pull of the moon and the splatter of stars. The tilt of the earth as we enter our autumnal solstice and the deep gold evenings of a Northern California fall. The waves that grace our rocky shoreline without thought, and without cease.
Shredders, like nonshredders, need the comfort of routine--to pull into parking lots in the chilly pre dawn, stamp our feet, squint toward the ocean, wrap our hands around a hot drink. We need to check, check, check the buoy readings at work all day, then finally make the call, drive to the coast, and marvel at the feel of the ocean around us, the sudden calming of the mind as the light turns pink.
And surfboards need to be made for this. Not only the shredding, for we come for the shredding, but for the everything else, too.
This particular instrument of engagement is currently being schralped by new homeowner, corduroy enthusiast (I'm guessing here, but he seems the type), and bicoastal (if you regard San Diego and Sonoma as two different coasts, which I do) surfboard enthusiast, Eric.
Lovely two-tone resin tint by the good folks at Almar, led by their affable, mustachioed capitan, in Santa Cruz.
Still life with dog-scratched wood floor, dog-haired Persian rug.
I believe it to be a 6'4" Clover.
Glass-on wood fins are just as satisfying to foil as they are to lean into a hefty bottom turn with.
Nota Bene, blog enthusiasts: while never exactly 'prolific', these blog pages were updated with some regularity. Not anymore! These days I'm stretched thinner than an ironic t-shirt at a hipster convention, and something's got to go. The good news is that it's not Princess Dress-up Time with my girls. The bad news is that the board porn might be a little light this fall.