The Greymember

William Shakespeare didn't live in Northern California. If he had, his Sonnet 18, which compares his beloved to a summer's day, would have mentioned northwest winds, coastal fog, and dry riesling before 5pm. He redeems himself at the beginning of the third stanza, however, by introducing the concept of the 'eternal summer' inside us. He concludes the stanza with a reference to 'eternal lines' as well. Perhaps The Bard was a surfer after all...?
Anyway, stoked Bay Area shredder Dan has a plan for the eternal lines of summer: The Greymember.
The board stands a diminutive, yet fleshy 5'4" with a slimming dark cedar stringer and Member-specific keels.
The slate gray opaque reverse wrap (tapered!) reinforces the tombstone likeness, and just a hint of swallow tail keeps things lively in the back.
The "S" deck: meat where you want it, neat where you don't.
When I told Dan this was strictly a head high and under board, he said, "I'm gonna ride it in overhead Ocean Beach."
The kid's got moxie!

East Coast Dispatch--the Epilogue

Every summer sees the whirlwind HHG East Coast tour of New England states, Cape Cod beaches, grandparents, old friends, humidity, mosquitoes, ice cream, irrational liquor sales laws, and air conditioning. In the spirit of sharing, this trip’s lack of surfables has given me a moment to create a coastal New England socio-linguistic primer for those lucky enough to be planning a visit. Anchors away!
1. Appearance. The typical vacationing New Englander dresses blissfully free of irony. We knew we’d be seeing a lot of khaki during our visit, but the variety and sheer volume is what impresses us most. Green khakis. Yellow khakis. Khakis with embroidered whales, khaki skirts, hats, and an unconfirmed sighting (by Mrs. HHG) of a khaki beach blanket.
Below, my father demonstrates the typical accoutrement. Every summer he reaches deep into the suitcase, pulls out this getup, and sports it proudly for the duration of our stay. “When in Rome,” he says when asked about it, grinning. I’m pretty sure my mom makes sure it doesn’t see the light of day for the next eleven months. Let me talk you through it:
Faded Nantucket Red hat, crisp solid-colored polo shirt, well-worn khakis suspended by a sportfish-embroidered belt. Classic. What you don’t see: Boatshoes. No socks. Does it get any better?
2. Language. Often mocked, broadly misunderstood, seldom appreciated. The geography of New England is distinctly variegated—hills, valleys, rivers, snow piles, forests. It leads to not one, but hundreds of regional accents. A typical coastal New England observation about swimming conditions can offer endless variation. If the speaker is visiting from Boston, it may sound like, “This wahtah’s wickitt whumm,” whereas a Long Islander may posit, “Hey, this shit’s freakin’ hwaht,” while a Marylander might speculate , “they got crabs in this wutter, huh-wun?”
Each variation presents a host of invaluable anthroplogical data.
3. Fishing. It’s solid. As per tradition, 10th generation Cape Cod waterman Capt. Kenny Eldredge got Team HHG into some bluefish and striped bass (stripahs). Also as per tradition, Mrs. HHG spanked everone else on the boat, going as far as pulling up two fish at once—a bass and a blue on the same rig. Who said we can’t all get along?
This is what happens to good stripers from Nantucket Sound.
Stoked to get back to the left coast in a few days and crack into a fresh stack of foam!