All Clear

Foam
Cedar
Fiberglass

The Stuff of Life

All the literary heavies have succumbed to the powers of the grape at some time or another. Hemingway refered to wine as, 'The most civilized beverage in the world," Emerson demanded wine to wash himself clean, and it can't be more simple than the declarative statement of Roman poet Petronius: "Wine is life." Even the sciences back it up, as Louis Pasteur claimed it to be the, "most healthful and hygienic of beverages."
Based on the comments I get on this blog, I am clearly preaching to the choir, but it must be pointed out the great things wine has inspired: poetry. Literature. Civilizations. Sweet sweet love (though Shakespeare warns us it, "provokes the desire but takes away the performance").
And surfboards.
Ranger Fred makes some damn good wines up here in SoCo.
He also makes lots of children and clean lines on cold beachbreak waves. His 9’0 performance log sported a ‘glasser’s choice’ order card, so Leslie busted out a Zinfandel deck with champagne bottom inlay.
Probably the last thing a winemaker wants to see on his days off but, hey, he left it up to a lovesick temperamental artist with an affinity for reptiles and carnivorous plants, so what did he expect?
Pintail keeps it smooth off the back foot.
Thomas Jefferson wrote, "wine from long habit has become an indispensable for my health. Much like pulling in to a glassy barrel" (the second part is my own addition).
I'm a sucker for the 'reverse wrap' glass job. Leslie rolls her eyes when I wax poetic about them, muttering something about sanding into the weave blah, blah, blah, but the tucked laps really tie the whole bottom together.
Cheers.

Responsible Use

We don't judge up here at HHG. If a stoked surf enthusiast requests a board and shows appropriate measures of stoke, gullibility, and inebriation, discussions will ensue and a board will be created. This guy had all three in spades.
(not sure what's going on with his hand here, but something tells me it's not ok...)
I'm not going to drop any names, as my business is built upon a solid foundation of confidentiality and shaper/client privilege, so I'll just refer to this gentleman as 'Chaim.'
Chaim was stoked about an 8' something, 2+1 fin setup, and rounded pintail to manage the beachbreaks of Norcal as well as the warm water goodness of a forthcoming Costa Rica pilgrimage.
Chaim's choice of a gunmetal deck pigment job, and hourglass bottom laps was spot-on--the dude's clearly got taste, and Leslie made it sing in trademark Fatty fashion.
One thing is for certain: this board's in for some wild times.

Up for Grabs

Newly Unattached: Broadsword 2+1.
Measurements: a svelte-yet-curvy 8'5x22x3.
Reason for Breakup: Handsome Steve's employment termination.
Likes: the ocean, long walks on smooth peaks, steep and deep pockets, big stuff, little stuff, and everything inbetween.
Dislikes: waiting in the car on hot days.
Interesting Facts: smells like red cedar, would love nothing more than a good waxjob.
Another casualty of a dispirited economy, Handsome Steve had to surrender his freshly-shaped-yet-unglassed Broadsword this week (don't worry about Steve, a man that undeniably handsome is seldom out of work for long). By stepping forth, you have the opportunity to help a board in trouble AND realize the glassjob of your most pure/prurient desires--clear, solids, stripes, swirls, bubbles, darts...etc.
This is what she looked like when freshly shaped:
If unclaimed, the board goes to the shop with a glassjob of Leslie's imaginings, which will most likely be blue, reflective of her mood since The New Man returned to Alaska until summer.
Speaking of Alaska, if your board was in yesterday's pickup/dropoff cycle, it had the opportunity to experience snow, as evidenced by this picture I took at low speeds Somewhere in Mendocino County:
The white-knuckle driving affair (perhaps brought on by the weather hubris of my last post, and pointed out by Dr. Jay in the comments section) was only overshadowed by this stunning rainbow, shot at high speeds through the window with my camera on manual setting and no possibility of looking through the viewfinder. Nailed it! (sort of).
Bonus Question: if you name the Highway 101 exit closest to this image, you receive a FREE RESIN PINLINE on your next board order. Hint: it's between San Francisco and Crescent City. One entry per surfer, please.

Smiling Dutchman

In a merciless display of God's cruel irony, or perhaps some sort of conspiracy plot by those dastardly, ever-conspiring Masons, Northern California has been basking in a freakish run of good waves and unbelievable weather. This, while the rest of the nation hibernates under an impenetrable 'blanket' of continually building snow and ice.
Sorry, rest of the nation, but we're doing what we would want you to do of you were in our flip-flops: applying sunscreen, ordering surfboards, and shredding (without our hoods!) our local waters.
Like Dutch here, with his new quad fish.
But have no fear East Coasters and Midwesterners, we will get our comeuppance: I think I saw some clouds in the forecast for late next week or something.

Real Big Fish

What does this have to do with surfing, surfboard shaping, or surf culture NotB?
Not a goddamn thing, but I have a few in me and like this picture of my second-born daughter's first excursion to the SF aquarium.
That's Mrs. HHG's nose resting gently on the back of that sturgeon.

The Perfect Storms

Who was it that said, "I love it when a plan comes together"? Hamlet?
FDR?
B.A. Baracus?
No matter, the enduring aspect of a quote isn't the first person to speak it, but the latest person to speak it. Up here, it's got to be Northcoast shredster Shawn, who just got this:
And along comes this:
And this!
Up here NotB, we have a name for this trifecta of stoke: The No Fu@#ing Way, or the NFW.
In Shawn's case, it would be uttered slowly, almost breathlessly, with emphasis on the final syllable.
Other instances the NFW could be employed are when the wife/girlfriend tests positive for impending daddydom--correct pronunciation in this instance would be long pauses between each word accompanied by a wide-eyed stare into the distance.
Or, a macking set on the horizon with you in exactly the wrong spot. In this specific case, there is no preferred pronunciation--elocution will be specific to the size of approaching set, quality of the utterer's wetsuit, and one's personal prediliction for being held down in the dark, dark, cold, deep for extended moments.
Hope you score some.