Of Beards, Boards, and the Naming of Things

It would be a nailbiter if TofuChris and I had a beard-growing contest. My Scottish/Jewish heritage has me predisposed for both facial-hair density and uniform coverage, but Chris's lack of shame and humble grooming habits more than make up for the sparseness of his face bush.

9'4"

Plus, Chris pays little heed to the Full Beard Protocol, which clearly mandates beard-free faces between Memorial Day and Labor Day (similar to the Law-of-White-Pants for douches).
Beards aside, we figured it was time for Chris's signature model, mostly because he's been begging me for a 'signature model' for years, and I don't give a shit either way. We nailed the design, a high-pro noserider for  beachbreak shredding, but got stuck on the name.

In Genesis 2:19, Adam named all the animals in one big push. Impressive. We tried this with the help of a few IPAs, but came up with bupkis.
The obvious choice was the TofuChris model, but agreed this could isolate hysterics and meat eaters--my core constituencies.
I like keeping it simple, and offered Hi-Pro Beachbreak Noserider. Shot down.
Chris liked The Throatee, after his beard, which comes in low and hangs on dearly. Perhaps a bit close to the Neckbeard model by an industry leader in imported boards...

Names are central to identity and should be taken seriously. Scientists are keenly aware of this, which is why we have the Dumbo Octopus and the Dhole wild dog.
So I'm taking matters into my own hands and calling this hi-pro beachbreak noserider model the Helen Putnam, after Sonoma County teacher, mayor, and county supervisor. What a lady!
Plus, it's the name of the Ike's sandwich TofuChris is most likely to shred after one more punch on his Sandwich Card--avocado, breaded eggplant, cheddar, and french dressing, yo!

 It's business time.

One Lone Swordsman

New Broadsword, and punch #3 on the Sandwich Club Card for SC shredder Mike.

This was my second-to-last blank from a batch of US Blanks that had insanely dark cedar stringers. Every time I'd make a pass with a hand plane my shaping room smelled like someone eating a pulled-pork sandwich in a Norwegian sauna.

Mike wanted a shorter version of his previous Broadsword (see here) for maximum rippage in more sizable surf. Since he digs the other board so much, we just had to make some down-scale adjustments (rocker, outline curve, fin placements) to recreate the magic in a smaller form.
Customs are rad!

If you live in or around SC County, there's a solid chance Mike oversaw the shipment, unpacking, and shelving of your foodstuffs. Not an easy job, nor one without some serious lift-from-the-legs skills.
The dude knows his veggies!

Blue Bronson

Le Bleu Bronson for SF log enthusiast Erin, who convinced me to amend the Sandwich Club Charter to include a certain Outer Sunset bakery named after the Beastmaster that features perhaps the best breakfast sangie Team HHG has ever experienced.

Therefore, Sandwich Clubbers, the choice is now yours: a full sandwich card gets you either a ridiculously good Ike’s sandwich (no chips, for chrissake) up here in SoCo or, for you City shredders, an insane breakfast sandwich from ______________ (name withheld to preserve location’s reasonable line lengths), which is also endorsed by fine photographer and helmswoman of my Urban LadyShred team, Rebecca H.

Ladies always know where all the good breakfast eats are at!

Couplinches shy of 9ft, but designed to maximize the glide in typical Bronson style with more curves than a bucket of snakes.

Erin’s name means ‘Ireland,’ which is pretty fitting for a surfer—being surrounded by water and such.

Deep blue tint by Tony Mikus at Almar Glass Works in Santa Cruz. Polished by Tim the Polisher, who is a fine board builder, to boot.
That's the first time I've ever attached 'to boot' to a sentence--written or spoken.
Not convinced it works.

Shady

Jason, who's getting dangerously close to a full sandwich card, wanted a replacement for his beloved 7'2 step up for OBSF that buckled during a now-infamous run of swell this past winter.
Since it was shaped in a different decade on another continent, I felt no moral trepidation about lifting the template, which was pretty heavily Parrish influenced.

Rocker, foil, fins are all no-nonsense OB.

Triple pinlines to give him something to look at while he's walking fifteen blocks back up The Beach to find his car.

Next to the Original

Jason's a marine biology nerd, and like nerds the world 'round, wanted to incorporate some sort of nerdiness into his board aesthetic.
This one mimics the concept of counter shading, a form of camouflage in which an animal's pigmentation is darker on the top than on the bottom. Hence the lovely blue steel 'reverse wrap' resin tiny by Tony Mikus.
Counter-shaded marine dwellers are hard to spot from above, as they blend in with the darker ocean floor, and hard to spot from below, as they blend with the lighter surface.
This penguin diagram nicely illustrates the principle.

 Counter shading didn't work out so well for these anchovies.

Of Thrusters, Mini-Simmons, and Questionable Single-Parenting Practices

Fresh foam for Northcoast shredders M and K, whose boards managed to be shaped and glassed during a particularly unhinged chapter in my life that was the product of the lovely Mrs. HHG frolicking in London for two weeks with her mom.
It's not that single parenting is hard the way that coal mining or dairy farming or building a railroad is hard, but here’s the deal: it comes at the expense of every other thing in your life.
Free time? Nope.
Food? Hope you like shoving a cold hotdog-covered-in-applesauce into your mouth while you hover over the sink.
Culture? Only if your idea of culture is falling asleep on the couch four minutes into an old Arrested Development episode, then waking up two hours later because your laptop is burning into your chest with the heat of a thousand suns. And you're drooling.

Let's say your life is a balloon ride, and all your wonderful non-parenting pursuits (surfing, making surfboards, gardening, scanning ebay for an exact replica of a shirt an old girlfriend gave you that you wore until it was shredded, enjoying the occasional dram of Ardbeg Uigeadail you’ve managed to hide from your peers for the last month) are sandbags hanging over the rail of the balloon basket. There will come a moment—usually within the first twenty-four hours of single parenting—when first one, then suddenly all of those sandbags must be cut free. 

K's 6'0.

The remnants of your former life drop unceremoniously to the ground so that the balloon may stay aloft. You don’t really have any control of where you’re going (though, at some point, you’ll probably end up at the pony rides at Howarth Park), but you have momentum and you’re all aboard and as long as you have some instant Mac&Cheese and popsicles you should make it just fine.

Also, for some reason, there's a lot more nudity when your significant other is out of town. You get out of the shower, almost put on pants, then think, nah.  I know what you're thinking: doesn’t you walking around the house naked look like a sad, hairy snowman?
To which I reply, no, thank you very much. Snowmen wear ties. 

M's 5'7

Maybe a bit of an overshare for a surfblog, but I’m on allergy meds and my head feels like it’s filled with something soft.

Let’s check back in with the surfboards.

From my incomplete family to M and K’s newly completed one: his and her shred sleds in matching green hues with deep, dark, chocolaty cedar stringers.

K’s is pure thruster bliss with top-and-bottom resin abstract by Tony Mikus at Almar Glass Works.

M’s 5’7 mini-Simmons features a green resin wrap with Braztafarian resin pinlines.

M and K are our surfy Northcoast version of Sonny and Cher, only with more dreadlocks and natural-fibered clothing. 

La Mango Lady Sans Merci

This lovely, full-board Mango Lady is for sale. Never ridden, waxed, or had popsicle dripped onto it by  four and six year-olds while using the deck as a Barbie Beach Party venue.
*update. SOLD to JD from ML, bicycle enthusiast, repeat customer, and proud shredder of the BOB*

Why is it for sale? Well, my friends, it's complicated. Delicate. Thorny.
You see, sometimes a wild hare (rarely. Unjudiciously) lends me its soft, downy ear. Often, this hare indulges in a dram of scotch. Often, it requests another.
In this particular instance,  Kilchoman's amazing Machir Bay expression proved the persuasive element.

In my lusty single malt rapture--nay, my pure Islay-inspired exaltation--this surfboard presented itself to me as a singular vision. Unseen hands guided me to the Blank Storage Area (staircase to the upstairs bedrooms).  A chock of raw foam urged itself into my hands (first one I saw), and led me to my shaping bay. The hour was late. Family members slept. For some reason my dog was invited into the proceedings, happily plunked in a pile of foam dust. Tongue out. Enthralled.

What happened next I cannot be sure. Much like the narrator from Keats' La Belle Dame Sans Merci (1819), I entered a liminal state, a diaphanous, filmy, place that ethnographer Arnold van Gennep would qualify as betwixt and between--neither of this world nor of another. Much like Keats' narrator I, too, emerged in the half dawn with only a fleeting series of images from the experience--planer on foam, plane on wood, ecstatic dog licking my leg as I moved from nose to tail and back again.
Suffice to say, fresh life--gasping, trembling, joyous--was coaxed into form during a gauzy, limitless session that lasted well into the wee hours (things get a little hazy at this point). Then, I emerged. Swaddled in foam dust, iPod drained (and, apparently, stuck on Chapter 27 of Nicholas Nickelby by Charles Dickens for reasons that have yet to reveal themselves to me). The resultant form was the Mango Lady Sans Merci.

Actually, it was more like a white lady, but I don't think I can call it that in a blog post.
Onto the specs!
La Mango Lady Sans Merci stands at 7'4, and is 22" wide and 2 7/8" thick. She features my Lady rocker, a gentle, sexy curve that prioritizes swoop-and-glide over rip-and-shred. Bottom contour is a dollop of belly under the nose to the front foot, then a panel vee off the tail. Rails are medium round and sharp in the rear 1/3rd. Cedar stringer. She can be ridden as a single or as a 2+1, and comes with fiberglass sidebites and a fiberglass center fin (TK Flex by Rainbow Fin Co.). You should consider the Mango Lady if you're looking for something to ride when the waves are waist-to-huge, like accelerating out of turns, and want to know what it feels like to be a hot knife slicing through a cool stick of butter.
Full board tint by the nice guys at Almar Surf Works, sanded finish (faster! Less slippery under the hands!), strong-and-lively glass job that's built to last.
First $580 takes it (plus tax, I'm legit). That's cheap, but whatever.
If you act presently, I will include a free mountaineering-grade through-the-box leash loop for your leggie. The only way this thing could fail is if someone were to take a hacksaw to it. Even then, it should still hold up to a good tombstone or two.
Email me at HeadHighGlassy@gmail.com if interested.
Swell in the water. Just saying.

The Sun, the Moon, the Sea

Just flew back from the Sea of Cortez...
and boy are my arms tired!
It looked like this:

One of these gently rested its mouth on my hand while I tried to take its picture:

It was hot and dry and I slathered on more sunscreen every morning than an entire Arizona waterpark sees during a homeschooler convention.
Not sure if that little gem of figurative language works or not, but I can't be trifled with such things at the moment. Board orders have piled up and swim lessons have started and now, suddenly, I sneeze when I go outside.
But he Baja desert has a way of putting things into perspective: Sun, moon, water (and, if you're lucky, Negro Modelo, fresh mango, chilled pinot grigio). The agents of life.
Sun, moon, water--the things that make us who we are--also give us waves. And waves give us surfboards, like this 6'8 egg (Lil' Pill) for Jon:

The bottom looks like this:

It has a shitload of fin options, a spiral vee bottom, a bamboo quad set by Rainbow Fin Company, and lovely in-the-lamination pigment layup by Tony Mikus at Almar Surfworks.

Jon and his lovely wife, Jen, aren't getting much sleep these days. But perhaps when they're up in the wee hours feeding their baby, one of them will peek out through the curtains and spy a full moon over Mt. Tam.
The same moon that makes the raccoons in my neighborhood suddenly, intensely interested in my compost bin. The same moon that inspires a breeding event among nudibranchs off the southern coast of Baja, Mexico, or a fiddler crab to set off and find a special friend for the evening, or the sea to drain off a reef in Sri Lanka long enough for a surfer to slot himself into a dry barrel in the silvery half light of evening.
Happy Spring.