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.

Blues for Tues: of Mini-Simmons, Thanksgiving, and Snickers

Nothing says, "America's fuggin rad" quite like the calendar stretch that encompasses both Halloween and Thanksgiving. The two holidays capture America at its best: creative, free of secular nonsense, and steeped in sharing.

They also capture the best as aspects of consumption, which, when it comes to Russian River pinot noir and Snickers Bars, isn't a bad thing at all.

These four weeks also hold the promise of epic surf conditions for California--active storm systems to both our north and south, warmer water temperatures, and an end to the devil winds of summer.

Not so much this year, though.

The good news is that despite this season's meager surf offerings, creativity and consumption have flourished. Especially if you're Fred, who has already consumed several waves on this baby blue 5'7, and expressed his freaky side on their wide-open faces.

And a solid community put this thing together: foam by the good people of US Blanks, glass by the talented hands at Almar Surf Works in Santa Cruz, and fins by Marlin Bacon of 101 Fin Co.

Have a great Thanksgiving. Don't forget to call someone and tell them you love them, even if you're exaggerating a little bit--they'll never know, and you'll feel that much better as you dig into some beaujolais nouveau.

The ______board Revolution

These are not the best days to be a Middle Eastern dictator. Nor are they great for polar bears or allergy sufferers. Mortgage owners, too, have cause for concern.
However, these are unbelievably exciting times to be a surfer or a custom surfboard shaper. The last five years of surf culture has seen the rules of the game change so much that there are no longer any rules. Last century, surfers laughed when the odd twin keel fish made its way into the local lineup. Now I can’t even wax up my Mini-Simmons in the parking lot without a handful of passersby deliberating design nuance: single or double-foiled fins? Concave all the way out the tail, or flat behind the fins? Would a shallow swallow tail give it more release?
The Shortboard Revolution of mid 1960s saw surfers hacking down their longboards six inches at a time. Shorter and shorter they got—ideas ping-ponging between California and Australia as traditionally designs were reinvented monthly.
Monthly. Can you imagine that? It’s a sloth’s pace compared to what’s going on today. It takes a month to fill a laboratory dish with bacteria. It takes two weeks to buy a gun (and feels a lot longer) in California. It takes minutes for a stoked surfer to see something online that captures their imagination, copy it, send it to their custom shaper with a few tweaks and a question (“what do you think of this but as a quad with a more pulled-in nose?”), and decide on a color.
The Shortboard Revolution was, as indicated by its name, unidirectional: shorter.
Today’s surfing revitalization is three dimensional: longer, fatter, shorter, thinner, more fins, fewer fins, concaves, convexes…etc.
It works with mindboggling speed: A backyard shaper in Portugal redistributes foam in an interesting way and posts it on his blog. Online surf communities initiate substantive discussion before the board even finishes curing. A California shaper gets inspired, fires off a few testpieces, and sends a crew to Baja to film and post up some video. The Big Guys see it and push a new model into production, but by then it’s too late. The dude in Portugal has moved on, deciding that the board would work better stringerless with carbon rails. The California shaper, too, decides to widen the tail, change the fin configuration, and push the widepoint back.
The target has shifted. The conversation has changed.
Suddenly, we’re talking about a teenage girl in New Zealand who hacks foam out of her parent’s mattress, glues an innertube to it, and shreds the reforms. The conversation continues, it expands, it contracts, it pulses like a jellyfish. It moves, literally, at the speed of light.
The result? Everyone is relieved: grizzled old shredsters are no longer talked into underfoamed, overfinned, banana-rockered potato chips with the float of a kickboard and the shelf life of swiss chard. Gremmies aren’t hounding after the latest ‘CT hero model guaranteed to blast them over the lip in 2ft beachbreak windswell, and the rest of us are encouraged, gently, to experiment.
Interestingly, it’s been a collaboration between the old and new guards that has brought us here. Elder statesmen like Kenvin and Ekstrom have enlisted the energy and talents of stoked groms. Everyone wins. The kids have their minds significantly blown over the pleasures of trim and glide, and the older guys get to reap the benefits of more user-friendly boards without the stigma.
Case in point: Big John had a vision for a specific board for a specific wave that requires a specific (read: dealbreakingly long) paddle to access. The wave is powerful and known to throw big, legit barrels on the right swell. He wanted paddle power. He also wanted it to be able to handle juice and steep walls. Not a longboard, not a gun.
Also: pulled nose and tail, e-wings.
Also: a bonzer setup. With bamboo fins.
Also: enough foam to float a guy as long as my car.
Also: banana/mango yellow tint with a tapered black resin pinline.
Try finding one of these on the racks.
It's not that a board like this didn't exist ten or twenty years ago--it did. The difference now is that the kids in the back row, the ones grinding their popcorn into the carpet while texting their girlfriends and downloading seven movies simultaneously, are now the ones standing up, aiming their camera phones at the world, and saying, "that's rad."
And it is.

Cowabunga!

If you live in Sonoma County, chances are your surf commute looks a lot like this:
We have greenery, we have a wild, wild ocean, and we have cows.
Perhaps the countless pre-dawn miles logged between SebTown and B-Bay put the zap on Bobert's melon--they say that the imprinting impulse of the human brain is equal to that of ducks and geese.
Mathematicians would undoubtedly reference the Transitive Property of Equality: if stoke is associated with waves, and waves are associated with cows, then cows are the proprieters of stoke. Or something. I was an English major.
And I just finished my second homemade margarita.
Regardless of the principle, the thinking is sound, and what better thing to represent our local surf culture than the Holstein cow? Holsteins are described by an unnvervingly deep-voiced narrative on my daughter's first-season of Sesame Street DVD as, "warm, calm animals," and they are.
Until you piss them off. Then they become much like our local surfers: territorial, aggresssive, and improprietous.
Just kidding. Sesame Street had them pegged at warm and calm. I'll add curious, but that doesn't really strike fear into the hearts of interlopers. Unless they're from a Red State.
So what does this have to do with Bobert's new stick?
Nothing, yet. The initial order was standard: 8'3 Northcoast rounded pintail e-winged five finner with a beefy stringer to withstand our punishing surf conditions. It looked like this:
Then, things started to happen. Bobert began, appropos of nothing, to refer to his new stick, resting gently on the racks at Leslie's, as the Bovine Board. He initiated an email thread amongst his surf crew, extolling his enthusiasm for the cow.
This may not have been wise. The crew, eager to pounce on deviations of any stripe, responded.
Images of unicorns appeared in subsequent email. The winged beast Pegasus was attached several times. There were rainbows and wings and equine nuzzling and a disturbing, anatomically correct (?) manhorse named Steed. There were references to Disney and Trapper Keeper notebooks and, worst of all, Celine Dion.
But Bobert had a vision and, like all visionaries he let the jokes, the chides, and the castigations fizzle.
Bobert endured. He had a vision, and it was good.
The Cowabonza.
The Cowabonza is both in and of NotB. The shape reflects long paddles, steep drops, and frigid, lonely, zero visibility mornings. The glass (and keep in mind all color is done by Leslie Anderson with pigmented resin) reflects our past, our ideology, the basic building blocks of who we are.
And who are we?
We are lovers of place, of ocean, of community. We are smitten with tradition, and innovation, and hand made things.
And it helps if these hand made things are useful, and lovely, and help you get over the ledge at S__m__ _re__ on a morning when nobody else will see you through the fog, or the wind, or the rain. And if someone you don't recognize comments on your CowBoard in the parking lot, just remember you are of this place: a warm, calm cow angling through the pit of an overhead grinder, hardened against the Northwest winds and glassy-capped ocean surface, dancing with the dark green. You are a warrior, and a cow, and I just dove into my third margarita so I'll shut up now, as I am a small man with a small tolerance for all things alcoholic.
Fresh limes from your own tree are the key.
Lots of stuff coming up in 2011!

The Little Pill

While not a new design, the Little Pill has undergone some refinements during the last few seasons. The outline has become sleeker, the foil more tuned in for better waves, and the entry rocker increased.
It's not a groveler, and will go well with south swells--lowtide reefbreak, beachbreak, or anywhere where speed and control are in high demand.
This one's a five finner with a light and snappy set of bamboo side fins by Marlin Bacon at 101Fin Co., but they work well as quads for a little extra oh my! sensation.
My preference du jour? 2+1 . Why? No idea, just feels good.
Know what feels bad? Holding a surfboard like this in a stiff breeze.
Insane resin work, as per usual, by Leslie Anderson at Fatty Fiberglass.
This Little Pill stands 6'5 1/4 x 21, and is up for grabs. Shoot me an email if you're interested. It should be taken several times a day with lots of water.

Brown Eggs are Fresh

Stoked bro from the north Konrad showing off his new 7-something egg behind the scenes at the Fattyshack.
2+1 with a Skip Frye flexie and some bamboo under the hood for maximum overdrive.

Ground's a little frosty, sky's a little blue. flannel's a good call .
Ahhhhh, winter!

The Green Machine

Back in college, the dorm affectionately referred to as KW (Keyes-Wasserman) was comprised of single occupancy rooms only. In college, single occupancy rooms exist for two reasons:
1. Occupant is seeking a tranquil venue for contemplation and study.
2. Occupant is seeking a tranquil venue for getting it on.
Both make sense to me.
So much so that when identically-initialed SF shred enthusiast KW expressed interest in a board, I waved all aspects of my formal vetting process (hazily-framed inquiries regarding beer and pornography preferences) and got to it.
The product, a double-wing quad fish, speaks to Kevin's interest in a more sustainable surfboard (100% recycled EPS foam, epoxy resin, bamboo fins) and my Atlantic Coast nostalgia. Either way, this floating venue will provide a platform for both contemplation and getting it on, surf-wise.
On a side note of appreciation, I'd like to point out that there are very few glassers out there highly skilled in EPS/epoxy applications. There are fewer still (in fact, I can't think of any offhand) who are masterful enough to tint--that's right, not opaque, but tint--over EPS foam. There are perhaps a handful of people in the world who would tint a shaped EPS blank, sand it, double pinline it with resin, create a custom matching resin logo, then gloss and polish it.
Did I mention Leslie also gardens, breeds reptiles, and plays a mean guitar?
101 bambo quads keep boards snappy and happy.