Monday, August 20, 2012

An Egg is an Egg is an Egg is an Egg


The Problem of Universals is an ageless philosophical dilemma. It asks, quite innocently, do universals exist?
This simple question is peppered with brain-busting convolutions, and all the mathematical and philosophical heavies have weighed in on the dilemma since Plato first proposed it two-and-a-half thousand years ago.
Basically, it points out that in order to have a universal, there must be an ideal, and the closer you examine the ideal, the further from the ideal you get.
Example: we all have an image of a triangle that pops into our heads when someone says triangle. What does it look like? For some it’s an isosceles (at least two sides equal), for some a scalene (no two sides equal), and others an equilateral (all sides equal). Three very different triangles, so an ideal triangle would have to be all three, which is impossible.
Dan's new 6'5 Egg
Most things in the world confuse me, and I try to make sense of them through surfboards. So let’s use surfboard design—specifically, the Egg shape—to explore The Problem of Universals.
First, we need an ideal egg surfboard. Without opening up the argument about who first designed the egg, let’s just say, for efficiency’s sake, the ideal is a 7’0” Skip Frye.
What, then, does the ideal look like besides being seven feet long? Round tail. Roundish bottom, single fin, flat rocker, 50/50 ‘egg’ rails all the way around. The ideal egg.
Right?
Let’s look closely. What if one of the rails were a fraction of a millimeter thicker than the other? Would it still be an ideal? Is symmetry part of the ideal egg surfboard? I assume that it is, but we all know the more closely we inspect a surfboard, the further from symmetrical it becomes. So can an ideal be flawed?
If so, what about other ‘flaws’? What if it were a 7’1” instead of a 7’0”, can we no longer consider it an egg? What about adding another fin? Or two? Three? Four? What if we shrunk it and increased the nose rocker? What if we lengthened it and flattened the tail rocker, narrowed the widepoint and moved it aft? Squared the tail? Put a pointy nose on? Made asymetrical?
If we open the door to variation, then all variations must be eggs, and, therefore, everything could be considered an egg. The term Egg, itself, would become meaningless.
Nose isn't quite as shovel-y in real life
How about another one: a fish, according so a certain sect of surfers and surfboard designers, must be in accordance with Steve Lis’ ideal—the 5’6 twin fin, deep swallow tail, flat, thick, wide, downrailed, beaknosed, glassed-on fins with no cant and no toe and foiled from marine plywood.
Cool, but a lot has happened in the forty years since the ‘ideal’ was born, including major adjustments in volume, width, outline, rocker, rails, foil, and number and placement of fins.
Every single design aspect has changed, and all refinements are currently being enjoyed by Lis’ current customers.
So if he created the ideal, then changed it, do we still have an ideal? If an ideal is fluid, how can we use it as a foundation?
When surfboards begin to confuse me I turn to poetry. Poets tend to stick their fingers deep into the swirling masses of gray area that upset mathematicians and philosophers and make me feel better about being a dimwit.
Thruster. Thumby-dummy tail.
In her 1913 poem Sacred Emily, Gertrude Stein wrote, “A rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.” A wonderfully elegant entry into the Problem of Universals discussion.
Stein repeats “rose” with the existence-confirming preposition, “is.” This suggests that a rose “is” many things. Many roses exist, and there is no single ideal. A rose is a red flower. A rose is a yellow flower. A white flower. A rose symbolizes life. A rose symbolizes death. It can symbolize both change and constancy, life and death, nature and man.
And then, finally, it becomes just a mindless syllable that means absolutely nothing but a reminder that words themselves are just rough tools—that by meaning one thing, and its opposite, they can mean nothing.
Whee!
This is why surfboards are such fascinating objects—they are most certainly a thing. Plastic. Round, flat, and sharp. And they are most certainly not things—ideas, concepts, promises, hopes. Art.
A surfboard is a surfboard is a surfboard is a surfboard.
Or in the case of this post, an egg is an egg is an egg is an egg. This is Dan’s Salmon Egg, which is different than a Pleasure Point Egg, or Swami’s Egg, San Juanico Egg. Nauset Egg. Nobadeer Egg. Matunick, Ogunquit, Tofino, Maunganui, Vanuatu, Yallingup, Kewalos.
Foiled tail and cedar stringer.
Dan ordered this board and had a baby boy on the same day, so the dude clearly goes huge. 

Saturday, August 4, 2012

The Crow



This is a clear 8'something Broadsword with five fin boxes and a cedar stringer and a big black resin crow on the deck for NorthCoast ripper, family man, fish-and-chips fan, and generally stoked outdoor dude Jean (as in Van Damme, not Billie King).
Why a big black resin crow?
No idea. I don't ask the questions. I just make the boards.

Now that I've written that, I realize that in shaping boards I do, indeed, ask a lot of questions. So I guess I don't ask a lot of personal questions. Sometimes I do, though, like weight and foot size and, "what's your favorite sexytime website?" and good ideas for ceviche recipes.
 Basically, I've lost control of this post and will end it here.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Je Suis Revenu


Just flew back from the East Coast and boy are my arms tired.
HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
But seriously. What'd I miss?
Took advantage of the first kidless hour in two weeks (God bless gym daycare!) and busted out a double-super-top-secret quad fin design that was doing dirty things to my brain on the plane to SFO.




Now that that's out of the way I can check in on my local sandbar to see how it's handling the remnants of this little south swell...
It’s good to be home.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Of Frankenfish, Summer Reading, The Hindenburg

As you can imagine, I get the electronic version of heaps of mail (Kilobytes? Megabytes? Brownie Bites?) weekly, from topics as far-reaching as shaping, to why isn't my board ready yet, and what the hell do you mean you went to Baja and left my board at the glasser, and why haven't you called your mom in a month, and how come there's a credit card charge for a movie called The DaVinci Load?
Anyhoo, I treat these correspondence as I treat all of my business dealings: with respect, dignity, and the occasional impulse to post them online so that all 37 (got another blog hit last Tuesday!) of you can enjoy.
I present to you the HHG Mail Bag, Summer Reading Edition!
And a new surfboard for local shredder Chip.

Chip's 7'Something" Frankenfish
Dear HHG, I just finished reading Chad Harbach's best-seller The Art of Fielding and was kind of underwhelmed. However, I don't trust my instincts. First, it's on the bestseller list. Second, there's like fifteen pages of positive reviews before the book even begins PLUS an author interview at the end Also, the cover has cool font and is very patriotic. All of these must add up to an amazing reading experience, right? Is it me? Are my tastes slipping?
LitSlip in Leucadia

LitSlip, if you're asking me for assistance, your tastes are already questionable. However, with regard to Mr. Harbach's novel, you must stand strong with your opinions. What would have happened if Hindenburg captain Ernst Lehmann hadn't stood strong in his belief that his zeppelin airship could be safely docked at Lakehurst Naval Air Station in New Jersey during an electrical storm with strong headwinds in a flammable aircraft packed with combustible gasses? How would history have been changed had flygirl Amelia Earhart not stood firm on her opinion that an equatorial around-the-world flight plan would be a piece of cake? What would have happened if I had not taken an unwavering stand with the lovely Mrs. HHG that there would be 'no consequences whatsoever' in allowing each of our young girls to eat an entire bag of dried cherries during our recent sixteen-hour drive back from Mexico?

More Frankenfish!



Dear HHG,
on a recent surf trip to Baja with a few other couples I noticed an interesting phenomenon with the ladyfolk: there would be hushed whispering, a stifled giggle or two, the sounded of a blender motor, a concealed exchange, and then one would disappear. Several days later she would reappear in search of more margaritas, and the phenomenon would begin again. What gives?
Gray Curious in Carlsbad

Gray Curious, your instincts serve you well: E.L. James' Fifty Shades of Grey is wholly responsible for these behaviors, which can circulate through select populations with a cyclical regularity. Remember The Bridges of Madison County? Overall, this clandestine literary pursuit is far preferable to what the less-fair sex does with their gender-isolated pursuits: jumping off things. Farting on things. Football.

Four Wings+Four Fins=Sixty-Four Times the Radness

Dear HHG, Should I read Atlas Shrugged?
Randy in The Tenderloin.

Randy, please read Atlas Shrugged if you hate humor and self awareness, and love drawn-out 'moral' justifications for self-interest and greed! Also, read if you enjoy hundreds of pages of white men giving speeches about their importance, predictable characters, and d-bags approaching you with their own half-baked, semi-racist, self-serving economic theories. Also read if you love boring shit in general.
Don't get me wrong, Randy. I love bad writing as much as the next person--culture snobs, as a whole, are a  paranoid and miserable bunch, and act as if the rest of the world is the same way. Screw those guys! Read books about sports stars bitchin' cars and celebrity marriages gone bad and murder mysteries that are also love stories that turn into feel good road trips with vampire-hunting ex presidents. There is joy in that stuff, and that's what reading is all about.
And summer.
And Chip's new 7-foot-Something-inch surfboard.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Southbound



I’m no science teacher, but I’ll take a stab at hydrodynamics to explain in layman’s terms how the Twinzer fin system--originally envisioned, applied and tweaked by Wil Jobson from the 1980s to the present day--works:
wordswordswordsVane+
sciencysciencysciencyAngle of Incidence+
physicsphysicsphysicsLaminar Flow=
fast, loose fun.
There you have it.
 This equation will be thoroughly tested in Baja for the next few weeks.
 Correspondence will resume in July. Hopefully in a more relaxed, crustier, and surfed-out fashion.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Happy Father's Day


Happy Dad's Day, dads.
Do your thing.
But maybe think carefully about your thing before you do it. Just sayin'.

So give a dad a wave today. How will you know if they're a dad?
General look of exhaustion. Unshaven. Grateful.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Of Broadswords, Pinot Noir, and Uni

Mike’s about as capable a waterman as you can get. Surf? Kills it.
Fish? Slays ‘em.
Sea kayaking? Yup.
Abalone diving? Si.
Urchin plucking? Enough already.
Lately he’s been ripping up the East Side on his 8’something Broadsword:
Pinot Noir bottom wrap by the boys at Almar Surf Works

Like Mike’s time in the water, his sword is all about options: 2+1, single, thruster. Whatever.
The go to lately, though, has been the quad.
Options provided by the good folks at Lokbox and Rainbow
In addition to the secrets of the salty deep, Mike inadvertently tipped me off to a secret parking stash somewhere in Santa Cruz. You see, he looks like a man who has a system. Who knows things.
So I followed him.
Sure enough: parking stash.
Thanks, amigo. And if you see a certain minivan paralleled in your usual spot, I swear it’s not mine.
Beefy cedar stringer. Strong like bull.
Still, you don’t want to wax the windshield. That would piss me the owner off.