Summer Teeth

The Simmons platform has all the marks of true genius: functionality steeped in Newtonian mechanics, never-before-seen design aesthetics, and an incredible versatility--there aren't that many designs out there that will work for such a wide range of dimensions and wave sizes.
For example, the current crop of Mini-Simmons have sprouted at mid-to-sub five foot range. They slay flat-faced waves up to head high. On the day of his death in 1954, Bob Simmons rode a 10'6" in well-overhead surf at Windansea.
Reading Simmons theories gets me all sweaty and nerd stoked, so I carved out a 5'9" for myself that dives a bit deeper into the 'experimental' end of the design pool.

Low rocker (Simmons:"you just don't need it!") for maximum planing, and 'cambered' nose contour (in this case, a paneled forward vee) to spread water to the high-pressure rail area at takeoff. Domed deck blended into round, thin rails, to shed water off the airfoil. 
Widepoint ahead of center, as Simmons believed (and was backed up by aerodynamic and naval architecture) that load had to be forward of lift. 

Super wide, with a pulled nose rather than the more tombstone-y noses I've been shaping the last few years, as Simmons departed from the wide-nose plank designs of the day, experimenting with pulled-in and even pointed noses.
There's a subtle concave to reduce pressure flow under the board, and the tail is thin and wide.
The double wings are a departure from a more fundamental Simmons approach, but this board's going to be ridden in Northern California beachbreak, and a tighter tail will fit more comfortably into a steeper wave face. 

This one builds off my already flat Mini-Simmons rocker and breaks up the twin Simmons fins into a quad system.

These quads, too, depart from the norm, shifting more area from the rear fin to the forward fin. I love the drive off a huge twin fin, especially on drawn-out bottom turns, so this should maximize that hand-tickling-the-wave-surface feeling while adding an additional control element. Neal Purchase Jr.'s been having some success with this style in Australia and beyond.

Good lord, this post got tech weenie fast. How about little joke to break the geek tension:
Question: How do you know that Bob Simmons influenced your surfboard?
Answer: Because it works!
Sorry.
Are the various elements going to combine for maximum small-wave shreddage?
Who the hell knows?
All the applied design theory in the Library of Congress won't necessarily turn a lawnmower into a Stealth Bomber, but I'm pretty stoked to find out. 
Fortunately, we have a few weeks in Northern Baja coming up to provide a suitable testing ground. I'll keep you posted.

All Clear

Cha-Ching! Paul gets to cash in his Sandwich Club Card with the receipt of this sleek 6'0 double-wing MiniSimmons. It's got a slight arc tail, a cedar stringer that made my shop smell like barbecue for a few days, and is super shiny.

If I had just aquired my sixth board, I'd go for a General Washington: an off-the-menu #98 with fried chicken substitited for halal chicken on Ike's own (non roof-of-the-mouth-destroying) dutch crunch. Good lord!

I hope Paul doesn't order a Lizzy's Lips (halal chicken, italian dressing, pepperjack). Not because the of the sandwich, which sounds awesome, but because Lizzy is my sister's name and that would be weird.

This board can be ridden as a four fin or three fin. I recommend pairing it with some waves, a little wax to make your feet stick to the board, and a nice dram of Templeton Rye. Even though it's from Iowa and not upstate NY, this is one hell of a whiskey. Honey and vanilla give way to crisp mint and wintergreen. Makes me wonder why I used to waste valuable drinking time mixing in vermouth and bitters. Perfect on a cold night, a warm night, a mild night, or during a hockey game. 

The joy

 lies in

The details.

The Latest

Over here at HeadHighGlassy we like to keep things light—a quick shot of handcrafted boardporn, and perhaps a few musings on our shared experience as surfers in the 21st century. However, for the last seven or eight weeks, I’ve been sick. Comically at times, but mostly not. Mostly sick in the way that saw my wife and I using vocabulary normally heard in bad medical dramas. Sick in the way that that last week’s lab technician grimaced when she saw the constellation of blood-test punctures dotting my arms. Sick in the way that, over time, the radiologist running the cat-scanner and I learned each other’s work schedules, favorite books, children’s soccer achievements.
As I regain health, I’d love to pen a flip account of my last two months—ending with But Boards Must Go On!—were it not for the fact that I can recall, exactly, how terrifying it all was.
But it’s true, Boards Must Go On. The moon pushes and pulls, tides rise and fall. Pulses of energy gather into waves, hurl themselves at distant shores, reconstitute in different forms. For the briefest of interplanetary eye-blinks, some of us get to tap into that energy, and surfboards are a simple, ingenious way to do this. So while I’m humbled by many things lately—my wife and her infinite stores of patience and love, my mom’s homemade chicken pot pie, caregivers, viruses—I’m also thrilled to be harnessed by something larger than the self. To be a part of a community of weird, inspiring people who call or email or stop by to demand, in no uncertain terms, that their surfboard needs be met. Fortunately, they’re also patient, and this afternoon as I popped in the iBuds and stepped into the shaping bay for the first time in a month, I paused to feel this transference of energy. This live-wire scream of the planer, these grains of foam dust whirling through spider cracks of light, this unshakable throb of possibility. Health waxes, illness wanes. Boards are shaped. Handed over. Ridden. We are immersed, enslaved by joules and the law of conservation. Sometimes this doesn't work to our favor. Sometimes it does. And sometimes it just feels pretty fucking good.
Onto the boardporn!
Esteban's new double-wing quad stealth fish.
The stealth designation is given to any board that immediately goes into a board bag, is sneaked past any economically co-dependent members of the household, and is incorporated (with crossed fingers) into the existing quiver without mention or fanfare.
Although it's doubtful this one will escape notice, a man's gotta try.
As per usual, Leslie Anderson at Fatty Fiberglass makes the stuff pretty. All color, except the resin pinlines, done during the lamination. Badass.
I hope you are all well.