Halfway into my wetsuit this morning i received a call from a friend who said it was pretty shitty. I talked myself into climbing back into bed. The prospect of warm sheets and sleep wonderful sleep seemed so inviting that i couldn't turn it down. It's most likely spinning sweet glassy inner-bar barrels while i write this??
Yesterday afternoon the beast had somewhat awoken. Ugly, lurching overhead power-slabs marched toward shore and exploded sweet bejeebus all over the place. A small crew braved the maelstrom in the middle of the beach and i tip my hat to em. It didn't look like an easy after-work stroll in lala wave land. More like dodging evil grenades and life-threatening missiles as you march half-blind through some thick jungle night. I saw one decent ride.
Reading "Jimi Hendrix, the man, the magic, the truth." by Sharon Lawrence right now. I just got to the part where jimi dies. Heavy and absolutely tragic. He took 9 strong pain killers that this girl kept from an earlier operation. Jimi read alot about numerology and thought that his special number was nine. Based on the author's account (she was a friend of his) it looks like he tried to commit suicide, or at least threw his fate to the wind that night, russian roulette style. Lawrence describes the toxic, embattled legal and financial webs spun around Henrix by some evil people. Ugly. Lawrence also describes his poverty-stricken and tough childhood with a dad who was basically a total dickhead and a mom who was an alcoholic and very promiscuous. Jimi was a mix of black, white and Cherokee. His mom died when he was 15. He had a bunch of siblings and half-siblings, many of whom were raised in foster homes. His father was never supportive and later constantly requested money from his son, even asking at one point to be assigned the main beneficiary in Jimi's will. Hendrix was bummed about his dad. There are some uplifting, enlightening parts of the book too. Jimi jams with Roland Kirk at one point and describes his total awe and amazement with the blind jazz maestro. It's cool to read about his days as a paratrooper in the army at age 19, then about his tours on the "chitlin circuit." It seems that Little Richard was a complete bastard. It's also interesting to read about when he moved to NYC in '66. He first moved and hung around up in Harlem, but then was attracted to the open, accepting beatnik scene down in the Village. He basically made this transition from a backup guitar player in predominantly black bands to a frontman for white audiences in the newly emerging hippy movement. Then he was "discovered" by the old base player from the Animals Chas Chandler and whisked to London, where the Experience was formed and Jimi famously wowed Clapton, the Stones, the Beatles, Jeff Beck, the Who and the rest of the london crew with his unprecedented guitar wizardry and surreal, hypnotic stage presence.
anyway.. it's an OK read, i hope there's a better biography out there about Hendrix. I really dislike the author, especially when she breaks the narrative to interject her own thoughts or memories. "And then Jimi called me and told me such and such, he really respected and needed my friendship. I'm so great and professional and awesome blah blah blah" Grrrr!!! She's annoyingly strait-edge and so ignores any detailed descriptions of Hendrix's foray's into LSD, women or abstract philosophy. I've found myself grimacing in frustation about her and i've been semi-tempted to write an angry letter.
but.. hendrix seems rad. he's the fricken man!
Been listening to this Live at Berkeley show from May 30, 1970 and also the Isle of Wight double CD with some wicked versions of Machine Gun and also an awesome "Freedom" which we tried to cover last night at band practice. fucking radical song! Thank you Jimi!!
Warm and sunny!!
New wetter, so psyched.
Run down for the blind solo session.
No friggin wind at all!
Images of glassy feathering lips pass through my mind.
Over the great highway.
See the ocean...
Frumpy, tossed, hacked, warbled, slighly-heavy, pock-marked mishmash.
Must be more wind in the outer water?
I'm commited at this point so paddle out.
The beauty of the environment keeping the stoke-meter high.
Just a ridiculously impressive Indian-summer-like morning.
Larger waves than in weeks past.
Some overhead sets.
Required a handful of duckdives to get outside.
Nobody around for miles in either direction.
Wild and disorganized waves. Difficult to pin down.
A few steep, funnelling sections show themselves.
Lots of sucky closeouts.
Snagged a ho-hum left and then a blah right.
Always enjoy the art of hunting for waves.
Scanning the horizon.
Attuned and jumpy for potential rideables.
Watching waves as they march in from the deep.
Anticipate how they will eventually break.
Begin your positioning early.
Will that low-slung mound of water bowl up just right?
Paddle out to meet it.
A few power paddles.
The whole thing sucks out.
To your feet as you drop over the ledge.
Set your inside rail and speed down the line.
Pump for more speed.
Nice glassy wall.
Dynamic liquid power.
Move with the contour of the wave.
Arc a slow turn off the top.
Another decent left came my way a few minutes later.
5 wave session. 45 minutes of surfing.
Someone else paddled out as i came in.
Great morning if you love immaculate weather and uncrowded, challenging conditions. Barrels on offer for the sneaky and talented.
Smackable lips. Junky wild surf.
photos from Fluidzone.com
Hoping for surf this morning.
New wetsuit has me psyching to get in the water.
But.. to no avail.
Onshorish, dumpy, crumbly, ugly and small.
This weekend saw some good ones.
Glassy and peaky on Saturday.
Bowly and racy yesterday.
Allz i have to say is that new wetsuits farking RULE!!!
Holy shit. No worries that cold water will leak into that little hole near your chest. No worries that cold water will just sit down near your stomach and chill your core. No funky smell. No slice in the upper thigh that lets freezing water leak right into your private parts area. None of that!! Just pure, warm, comfortable, warm, snug, warm comfy warm enjoyment!! yes!
Surfed with Bagel yesterday and had a good time. head-highish lefts filtered through every 5 or ten minutes. I found a few steep drops and even got back up to the lip on a few.
The Slop Fest went down yesterday. I saw a bunch of folks down there but didn't investigate. Anyone have a recap?
Last night i went to a wedding banquet at this Chinese place in Millbrae. It was a fixed course meal and some of the courses were Birds Nest soup (made from bird saliva), Abalone, Squab (pidgeon), Giant Clam, Conch. It was tasty but mildly nauseating.
Awe fshore photos
Make that real small... but still clean.
Looked pleasurable out there.
No duckdiving, dry-hair paddle out, no crowds.
A few wedgy micro-wedges on offer.
Clear, smooth, warmish water.
Good day for your beginner friend or girly or whathaveyou.
The kind of day you'll be pining for come 14ft 17sec mid-winter craziness.
No stress. no vibes.
4 hour mega jam again last night. Two drummers, base, guitar. Pushing toward abstraction. Tease the commonplace musical forms while stretching and expanding standards of harmony and taste. Base player laying down the room-filling drones. Drums syncopating back and forth. Rock-steady boom-bit whack-a-thack. Wide open musical space for the guitar. Ethereal openness. Fill it with barely contained rage. Spice. Exuberance. Power. Soar and bend. Fill the gaps where they shouldn't be. Play the other. Discordant cacophony tinged with resolution. Flirt with resolution but don't... yet... let... it happen. Tension building and sculpting and arcing. Flat 5th passing notes. Whine on the major seven while emphasizing the minor 3rd. Strange vibrations and harmonies. THack-a-wah thack-a-wah slap funk the two bottom strings. Drone with the base player build then build on top. Good times...
Then I drove over to an art opening my friends threw at G-bar on California Street in Laurel Heights. Pretty bumpin' party. It looked like a band was set up but it was set break when I walked in. Turned out that I kind-of knew the base player and a few minutes after I walked in the door I heard him talking to the guitar player saying they didn't know where the drummer was. I told them I could play some drums so they said ok. A video projector cast psychedelic images onto the wall and the base player told me to, "watch the images and play beats according to what you see." So we just began improvising and jamming. There were about 50 or 60 people there so it was pretty cool to have that crowd-channeled energy. The only problem was that the drum set wasn't set up properly. The base-drum pedal wasn't attached to the base-drum so the whole contraption kept sliding around. Also the hi-hat was in the process of falling apart. A bit of a comedy of errors but no worries really. The female guitarist had a soft, beautiful voice. It was fun to try to support that voice with some low-key, jazzy beats. ANYWAY.. then the real drummer came back so I got up and just started watching. This one girl had sort-of been trying to make eyes at me since we said hi while ordering drinks at the bar. She was loud and gnarl-looking so I did my best to play it nice and just avoid any further interaction. (plus i already have the best girlfriend of all time!) After playing drums I sat down on this couch right in front of the band. The flirty girl came over and started dancing pretty hard right in front of me. It was weird and made me really uncomfortable and a bit embarrassed. I think she was pretty drunk so it was a bit sloppy and weird. So I got up, said lates to my friends and bailed it.
Sorry for the rant..
received this email from flacksf
We were broken into in Feb. parked at the lots just north of Lincoln. Middle of the day, mid week. Took wallets and cell phones out of our clothes. Used credit cards for gas and bought gift certificates at Macy's for $400. It seemed like he must have been watching us. We reported it in North Beach, were I live. Been surfing beach 7 years first time it has happened to me.
Sharkbait check this site out
J Ewing shot of the other OB
Lerm reported extra small piddly weaksauce out there this morning.
Stayed in bed and read instead.
Yesterday scored a few with the legendary Bagel after work.
The toasted one sleuthed into many a zippy section on his custom crafted Elias stealth bomber.
Thanks to Brett and Paul U for the inspiration to go out there blind.
On Bagel's last ride he "tore the bag" off a little 3 footer, carving a furious chunk out of the face of the wave. It was good to see.
At one point I rode one into the shallows, then got sucked down while trying to click the lip too late and then got semi-slammed into the sand on my back. A bit scary as a slightly different fall could have compromised my spinal integrity. After all these years i'm still a kook.
Don't take you health for granted!
Life pain temporal existence money work art expression love thoughts poetry truth anger animal humanity primal mystery gut-wrenching nihilism moon sky unendingness smallness weirdness toughness gentleness intrigue raunch staunch munch zest fry cry fly by unsuspecting circumspect amalgamation hercules translation thoughts drift back toward the center.
Some photos taken by my good friend Virginia Beahan
I tried to motivate but the wind raged from the SW at 6:40am. I walked down to where i could see the ocean and it was all white-capped. Geez.. maybe spots south were showing?? actually... looking at the wind charts, it looks like i should've made the pilgrammage to the next county down. shit. I'm sure it was glassy head-high windswell sweetness.
But instead grabbed the ax and worked through some theory. Worked through this weird scale and then built the corresponding triads and improvised within it. I've never built triads with a tonic - major third and then double-diminished?? i don't know what you'd call it. I was playing a seven tone scale in A. A, Bb, C, D, E, F#, G#, A. It's pretty funky with the three half-steps in a row. The major 7th (G#), the tonic (A), and the flat 2nd (Bb) make for a trippy sound. Then when you build the triads it's a minor triad for A, then Bb augmented, then C augmented, then D major, then the weird E triad (E, G#, Bb). The third and fifth of E in this scale are only a whole step apart. Funky shit man.. Sorry if the above is a bit off.. i kinda need a guitar or piano here to double check it.. anyhoo.. it was fun.
Been reading alot of interviews with musicians and also jamming a ton so the music has been on my mind. Also listening all day on Rhapsody while i work. So many musicians talk about listening as the primary skill. not playing. The ability to listen and react. the ability to support the other musicians, to compliment and affirm. Many musicians talk reverentially about reaching toward the collective sound of the group. They talk about contributing to the holistic sound rather than selfish personal expression. Sometimes that means not playing at all if you feel that the overall music would benefit at that moment from your NOT playing. John Cage famously plays a piece called 4:33, which is 4 minutes and 33 seconds of total silence. He just sits there at the piano bench and doesn't play.
If you like the folky music in Shelter here's an interview with a cute model/surfer/musician who's music appears in the movie
George Crumb's Makrokosmos
Vol. I, Movement 12 (Spiral Galaxy)
Don't know what's happening at the beach??
Last night was fogged-in out there.
Did a surf check around 7:30pm and couldn't even see the waves from the dunes.
The onshores were blowing too dagnabbit.
Bagel may have surfed?
Surf-related Stream of consciousness:
Barrel barrel lip chunk down-the-line fog throw bikini meany local stink-eye bridge clip the lip slip fall wipe underwater mermaid copenhagen north sea no surf central-coast wooded-trail glassy-reef mysto-feel kelp-forest otters-eating wake-and-bake saturday-morning mellow-vibes smell-the-wax chat-with-Brett sun-pokes-through paddle-out spin-around take-off-steep off-the-bottom pump-and-carve barrels-crackin' wait-for-waves Marin-mountains Point-Reyes Pacifica Lawton-Church just for fun catching waves smell of ocean leaky wetsuit take a piss sitting in piss feels good fart in suit smells bad bubbles up spooky fin hope its a dolphin sea lions look like dogs oh my god i need some waves waves waves offshores no crowds but maybe one or two nice people not the car thief that guy sucks.
Brendan Monroe has some great stuff hanging at Giant Robot right now
also, if you like primal, spirit-enriched, abstract, avant-garde, rocked-out electric guitar Sonny Sharrock is an unsung hero! I'm loving The Sonny Sharrock Trio "Dance with me Montana" right now. "Ask the Ages" is a cool album too. Sharrock played guitar on "Theme from Jack Johnson" by Miles Davis on the second track "Yesternow." He doesn't get credit on the album and everybody thinks it's John McGloughlin (sp?), but... it's Sonny Sharrock, a true ripper of the highest order.
Surface didn't look too bad and the wind wasn't going crazy this morning. I'm out of the loop so don't have the first-hand info. Mostly likely Dennis, Blakestah, Kaiser or Kloo got out there??
Imagine if you could become invisible whenever you wanted. You could also pass through any wall or structure. You could also fly at light speed and whip around the world to your heart's content. Haunting around SF on a weekend night you might fly through some happenin' house parties in the lower haight or soma. Cruise into the locked backrooms and observe the mischievous goings-on. Another power that you hold is that you can seep into the internal consciousness of any person at any time, ala Neuromancer or Being John Malkovich. So you might fly over to the Olympic Training Center in the Rockies and jump off the ski jump while inside the consciousness of one of the world's best. Or maybe lock inside the mind of Noam Chomsky as he delivers a lecture at MIT. Or maybe Cheney as he rules the world? or maybe Peter North for a film shoot? Or maybe to the Indies Trader 4 Helicopter inside Slater's mind as he cruises above the Mentawais looking for mysto reefs. Spot a lurching, funnelling, uncharted right.. then land on the beach and paddle out for a solo session in crystal-glass perfection. Get barrelled deeper than you ever thought possible. See and experience the lines that the master draws. Feel the quickness and athletic prowess of the truly gifted. shred.
sc sent an email about the car thief!!!
i followed the thief the other day for 4 blocks. he got pissed when he realized that i was following him. i called the cops right away and gave them his license plate number. he was driving a beater two door toyota. red. the grill was painted red. he was pretty thug looking, fitting the description mentioned in previous posts. his plate was 5JGB323 (orsomething very close to that...). the cops repsonded quickly but i'm not sure if they got him or not. i contacted surfpulse/blakestah with his plate information but i guess they can't post that or something. it was blatantly obvious what he was up to...hence my following him. he didn't look very friendly.
Thought with the calmer wind last night there might be a chance for surf this morning.
Went for the blind go out.
As always it was fun to be out in the water.
Not much in the way of quality rideables.
Scored a few micro peelers and character-rich down-the-line meanderings.
Nobody around except a few seals and jellyfish.
Nice dry-hair paddleout.
A few little squirty somethings.
Surface not too hacked.
Doable but small.
Finally received the new Surfer's Journal. A beautiful issue. Some of the Canadian photographs with the thick, rich, green forests and glassy blue reef-break suckouts are incredible. Also the West Oz photo gallery. Oh My!!!
Any musicians out there such as Davo, Jocular, Lewis, Caveman, Marco, Kdalle, Lerm, MWSF or others interested in cruising to my studio in Oakland for a jam tonight let me know.
Jeff Chamberlain, from the Central Coast, penned an article that will appear in the next edition of the Journal. Here are a few photos that he sent to niceness.
go jeff go!
dismal onshore crap.
Saw the Bruce Movie last night.
Ranks right up there with the other Volcom flicks.
Heaps of footage of Bruce getting deeply pitted on the North Shore.
Some ridiculous Kirra barrels.
Coverage of the Eddie and Bruce's narrow requalification at Pipe.
Some interesting interviews, including one with Titus.
Runman Bruce Movie in the DVD extras was pretty awesome.
Lots of shots of Bruce's girlfriend in a bikini, also Andy's girlfriend.
Clip of a fight in Kauai when Bruce was a grom.
Great music throughout.
thanks Kaiser for posting these last few days.
I found some waves up north but nothing spectacular.
It was much less windy up there than here in the city.
Timo sent this email about another car break-in!!
While surfing, my 97 Nissan truck was broken into on Saturday August 13th at 11:30 a.m. at G.Highway and Ortega. The criminal stole my clothes (even my freakin' underwear), my wallet, my digital camera, and used all three credit cards within an hour of the theft.
The short man is of an asian/hispanic mix (about 5'3 to 5'5) with tattoos on both arms, a shaved/bald head and a scar under his left eye (about an inch long) and was seen in the area. He's about 25 to 30 years old.
After following the trail of credit card purchases shortly after the theft, I was able to track down a proprietor of a store who clearly remembers this asshole buying 100 bucks worth of cigarrettes with my atm/check card. He was the one who gave me a detailed description of the thief.
Please broadcast this description so that surfers are aware of him and when they see him, they should call the police (Taraval dispatch) immediately.
saltydog posted these
andrew christie shot of matt hoy
Deni's friend Jason Borte
Waves still suck.
SF Bouy showing no south:
HMB Bouy showing a little:
Monterey Bouy is the best bet:
Here is what I know:
- E's on vacation
- The swell is still small
- This summer still sucks
- Order your board for winter now
- Football season is here
- There is something on the radar.....
out of the surf loop.
4 hours mega jam last night.
Saxamaphone player in the mix.
Raging through the Headhunter's Chameleon.
That song rules.
"Smoke two joints" by the Toyes, popularized by Sublime.
A little Peter Gunn with the horn fuming through that twisted, space-age lead melody.
Call and response between guitar and the sax.
Two full drum kits laying it down thick and steady.
Took one of our old songs and tried to get "Coltrane" with it.
By that i mean late Coltrane.
Sheets of sound Coltrane.
Interstellar Space Coltrane.
Coltrane when he heard the reaper approaching.
Hemorrhaging the boundaries of decency and taste.
The band working together through this angry, bulbous abstraction.
Screeching and wailing.
then to Machine Gun by Hendrix.
Tried to do it justice but it's impossible to approach the master expressionist.
Tried to get that feeling of hard-core machine gun fire going off.. like "Chucka Chucka Chucka Chucka Chuck!"
Guitar all distorted and bleeding.
Morbid and evil with the lyrics,"
"Machine Gun... TEARING MY BODY ALL APART"
Basically screaming that last bit.
Thinking about standing in some jungle situation in the pouring rain. War and death and explosions all around. Fucking machine gun fire going crazy. Standing in the middle of the field with crying people all around while machine gun fire rips into my body.. CHUCKA CHUCKA CHUCKA CHUCKA CHUCK! Blood splattering everywhere.. Cackling spirit-demons floating in the air laughing at me. Death and hatred. Dark stormy war and confusion.
"I AIN'T AFRAID OF YOUR MESS NO MORE, BABE
I AIN'T AFRAID NO MORE
AFTER A WHILE YOUR CHEAP TALK DON'T EVERN CAUSE ME PAIN
SO LET YOUR BULLETS FLY LIKE RAIN!!!"
Tried to get that anger and darkness across in the music. Raging emotional pain and hurt. But also the soul lifting up and beyond all that bullshit. let your bullets fly like rain muther fucker. they don't even cause me pain!
painting from JAZZLANDSCAPES.COM
A few micro peelers.
A small crew at Kelly's.
Tiny mini surf.
Nice morning at the beach.
Traut posted a description of his skate-night the other night:
The day ominously started with a near collision. G had just parked his car on Lombard so he could run inside a pet store and grab 100ibs of food for his 100ib lab. The green grill and the blaring of the Transit bus's horn at 120dB from 2 feet away greeted G who casually proceeded to open his car door, flip off the bus driver and enter the store.
Following this close encounter, we headed out from Russian hill on G's handmade Karv boards down Polk street to the N-Judah where we got off at the inner-sunset. From there it was a slow ride with all of the innner-sunset's forces working against us. Not only were Asian drivers cutting us off at every opportunity, but the onshore winds held us up and the rough pavement slowed us down. Amazingly, we made it to the Balboa within an hour of leaving Russian hill and had plenty of time to grab 4 22 ouncers for the show.
After the show we tracked down Korwin who agreed to give us a lift up to the VA hospital. While heading to his car, G and I were carving down the hill each trying to replicate the 180 / 360 maneuvers just seen on the big screen. G was on my left when I began my left facing power slide. He was carving right. I caught a glimpse of him coming in hot right toward me and dove for the ground. He jumped over my somersaulting body. Our two boards became intertwined like 2 sailors finding their love again in the Castro.
While in the Korwin express lift, we puffed as the Green rule states should be done while riding a lift up the slopes. Once out of the lift, a fault free, car-less blacktop beckoned us down. Carve, Carve, speed check slide, carve, carve, power slide and so on. With the Albertsons on the left and stop signs on every rapidly approaching street corner, our eyes searched for headlights coming out of the Aves.
Now on the last 2 blocks of slope, we took the barrel position, knees almost touching the board, hand squarely placed above the wheels to limit speed wobble and sped past 28th, 27th, 26th, 25th, 24th, 23rd, 22nd and then turned toward Geary on 21st.
Managed to miss the bus while in 7-11 for some Green tea and munchies so we hopped into a cab to the top Golden Gate at USF. Again, a glassy surface teamed with gravity as we sped down the hill. No cars and a green light on Masonic allowed us to arrive at Scott St unscathed.
Up Scott 2 blocks to Fulton at Alamo Square. Again, carve, carve, slide, crouch and speed bomb!! Zipped past Fillmore, Webster, Buchanan, Laguna, Octavia, Gough and came to a stop at City Hall. Turned around and could barely see the hill that we had just bombed.
Skated up to VanNess and Munied it on home.
Skate or Die skateboard auction - all deck designs had to include a skull.
ginormo mackers funnelling in this morning!
Where did the swell come from??
I saw some crazy loony guy climb up on seal rock, leap off with his board and land onto the face of a triple overhead crunching spitting wave. crazy.
but in all seriousness folks, shit is puny out in surf land.
It's a good stretch of time to build up your alcoholic tolerance. Stay out late drinking and carrying on without worry that you'll miss the sick dawnie. Also a good time to get your fog face developed. Fog face describes the grim, determined, downcast look that west-side SF'ers develop through the summer melancholy. It's gray, it's chilly, it ain't really summer. Just hunker down and bear it. At least we're not roasting!
Garage A Trois tonight at the Indepenent. Should be a good show.
Mark Ribot at Yoshi's on monday. The guy is an avant-jazz maestro. Slanky cuban-styled guitar virtuosity. Has played with Zorn, Tom Waits, Elvis Costello, Bill Ware, etc. check him out.
I'll be up in Mendo from Friday through Wed. Hoping for some swell!!!
this wave is no more
Woven by many threads
It fills your head
Spoken with many words
But hardly heard
Noticed by chosen few
But what a view
Sculpted in times of lore
If forms the core
Awoken, it starts to rise
It fills your eyes
Strident, a vibrant force
With no recourse
Enflamed, you start to strain
It's in your brain
Drink the pain
Enraptured, you settle down
You act the clown
Tiny waves at the beach this morning.
A few surf-hungry loggers made a go.
Relatively smooth sea-surface.
Maybe a peak or 7 if you're patient and flexible.
Enjoy the dry-hair paddle out.
Went to a stylish and tasty restaurant in SOMA last weekend called Triptych. The food was delicious. They had some likeable art on the walls too, some of which painted by this guy.
Some nice photos from coastalbc.com
Feelin' you (open realm mp3)
Radius (open realm mp3)
small, dinky, blustery, doable.
No takers through the north end as of 6:45.
This may have been discussed before but it came up in conversation recently so I'll relate it again.
I did a two-month Indo trip in 2001. After a few days dealing with the relentless Bali crowds I felt the pull of Nusa Tengarra and began island hopping east. I spent three weeks in a few remote, otherworldly villages with no electricity, running water or telephones. The surf fluctuated from solid to meager. The cultural stimulation was awe-inspiring. The basic lifestyle of white-boy surf traveler in 3rd-world bumblefuck Indo was invigorating but also exhausting after a while. Always having to use your bottled water to brush teeth, daily missions to the stinky, wasp-infested outhouse. Cane mites in the little porch where I slept, attached to Chief Metabulu's storage house. Sand fleas leaving itchy welts on your legs. Snakes on the path down to the wave. Hot hot fucking hot all the time. Same food every day. Same food every day. Same food every day. No western women at all, ever. At one point this really cute Kiwi girl passed through town with her boyfriend and two of his friends. They stopped by to chat with the 5 of us westerners in the village and we could barely yank our jaws off the ground, not having seen the fairer sex in close to a month. it was shocking. ANYWay.. I eventually started making my way back to Bali and en route stopped at the crowded but amenity-rich Lakey Peak on Sumbawa.
10 losmen, 4 waves, 50 surfers, restaurants in each losmen. Beer! holy shit! pancakes, ganja, television, beds, ping-pong, Oreos! The trappings of western culture. ahhhh.. So I settled into the mini surf-ghetto and began exploring the many facets of the beautiful waves right there. There were still basically NO women anywhere. Not that I was looking for a hookup... just.. you know.. it's nice when there are a few ladies around to civilize and inspire.
After a few days a crew of four female semi-pro Aussie rippers arrived on the scene. And they were cute too!! You could feel the buzz and heightened energy at the restaurant where everyone hung out that night when the ladies walked in. Sex starved Aussie, British, South African and American men where slicking back there hair and straining for eye contact. It was hilarious.
The girls ended up being really chill and fun-loving. They could surf really well too! Strait up.
To get to the main wave at Lakey Peak, you need to paddle across this lagoon for about 5 or 10 minutes, then get out and walk across a shallow reef, then reenter the water and paddle out. There is also a small keyhole in the reef where you can steer a boat through, so that you could launch a boat on the inside lagoon and have a strait shot out to the open ocean. Three of the girls were paddling across the lagoon, out to Lakey Peak. An Aussie surfer had brought a zodiac with him to Indo and was preparing to take it out through the keyhole on a fishing excursion. He and his friends were a bit drunk so they asked one of there Indonesian friends to steer the boat. They launched and began speeding across the lagoon. I guess the guys in the boat didn't see the girls because soon enough the zodiac comes right up to them and actually runs right over one of the girls. The prop tears into her leg, breaking the femur in half right below her hip. Blood starts gushing like crazy. They guys stop the boat. They pull the girl in and her leg is obviously fucked up. It's still attached.. but. One of the guys knows CPR. They create a splint and tourniquet with some oars and t-shirts and bring the boat back around to shore. They apply pressure to the wound. They give the girl a piece of wood to bite on. She's a total trooper and just deals. No screaming. No hysterics. They get to shore and it takes about 10 or 15 minutes to find an automobile they can use. They find an old pickup and load her into the bed. They drive nearly 2 hours to the closest hospital. They have trouble finding anyone at the hospital who speaks English and hospital workers are constantly approaching the girl trying to poke and prod her wound. They finally find a doctor who speaks passable English. He takes them into an operating room with blood and dirt on the walls. He does his best to clean and sterilize the huge wound, and then gives it a cursory sewing. They next take the same pickup truck another 2 hours to the closest airport. A little rinky dealy that flies propeller planes to Bali twice a day. They wait a few more hours for the next flight. From Bali she gets cleaned and sterilized again at the hospital but then has to wait and fly to Perth, the closest Western hospital.
I don't know how the story ended or whether or not this courageous surfer lost her leg or what. It's just a gruesome story of how things sometimes go very badly.
Sean Davey Hawaii shots
Porous tactile fumigants.
Writhe in slick, sweaty oozings.
Disengaged archaic strivings.
Cooing guttural juicing.
Fungal spellbound olfactory hues.
Lifeline deadline beeline inline.
Gargantuan kaleidoscope muse.
Sun-drenched soft-n-taught freshness.
Sloping, tantalizing imaginings.
Puckered, sugar-n-spice niceness.
Reach down hand-grabbing naughtiness.
Stargaze through the maze in a daze.
Blaze scurrilous pillow-talk polka-dot.
Raze the phrase while in a haze.
Tinctured amalgamated thick blood clot.
Joshua Ellingson illustrations from fecalface.com
Jeremy Fish hotdog pirate surfer
Early morning surf prowl.
Slip around looking for a bar.
Get a call from Christian.
Paddle out near his house.
Onshores but not maniacal onshores.
Christian smooth and radical.
Rounded arcs off the top, stylized roundhouses.
You know when he takes off on a wave you're going to see him bust over the lip or throw buckets.
Inspiration to charge harder and surf better.
Not amazing conditions, no worries if you slept in.
Some powerful waves though.
Felt like an average between-swell winter day.
Took off on one left that demanded i summon some sac.
Whimpy little sac of peanuts maybe.. but sac for me.
Open faces available.
Thumping closeouts available.
Long hold-downs available.
Grumpy, wild, disheveled beach-break good times.
I like August!
Killer photos from Stinkeye
Charge those charging chargeables
We didn't expect it.. but.. sweet mammy there were some fierce, powerful, athletic waves in the mix this morning. Lerm and i both received some healthy beat-downs while trying to negotiate the topsy-turvy, recalcitrant mini-bombs.
A fairly ugly mishmash.
Some beautiful, barrelling diamonds in the rough.
30 duckdive paddle-out after a long ride by Lerm.
Munching, pounding, anvil-like low-tide crunchers.
Absolutely no crowd.
Sections available for those skilled in the hunting.
Good times all in all.
Felt like winter.
August 2, 2005
Pro surfer Ruffo arrested on drug charge after raid on S.C. home
By CATHY SMITH
Sentinel staff writer
A noted professional surfer was arrested recently on charges of selling methamphetamine out of his Laurel Street home.
Anthony Ruffo, 41, was arrested Thursday on suspicion of possessing the drug for sale and disposing of evidence, said Rich Westphal, commander of the state Narcotics Enforcement Team for Santa Cruz County.
He posted bond and was released. He will be arraigned Aug. 12.
Officers found 3.8 grams, but say Ruffo fled into the bathroom when they announced their arrival and began flushing the toilet. Westphal said he left a trail of the drug down the hall to the bathroom.
Westphal said a gram sells for $80 to $100.
Officers obtained a search warrant after "receiving information about possible narcotics activity" at Ruffo’s home, Westphal said. He said four other people there were arrested for lesser drug-related charges.
Ruffo’s arrest came just days before the scheduled start of his trial on a 2004 arrest for allegedly possessing marijuana for sale, court officials said. In 1998, he was charged with possessing marijuana for sale and cultivation of marijuana, but received a diversion program and the charges were dismissed, court officials said.
?? His attorney, Paul Meltzer, said his client has never been convicted of drug sales and allegedly had only a "very small quantity" of the drug.
"Anthony is a well-known and well-regarded professional surfer who has been the subject of a number of searches, none of which resulted in a conviction," he said.
Westphal said the team has gotten complaints about the Ruffo home before and has searched it more than once. Thursday, they recovered "enough to show possession for sale," including packaging materials, he said.
"It’s unfortunate," he said. "Crystal meth seems to be the drug of choice right now, if there is one. It’s very dangerous and very accessible."
Ruffo is part of an exclusive group of surfers who dominate Steamer Lane, and surfs at other prime spots around the world. A regular competitor in major contests, he won the inaugural Cold Water Classic in 1985 and finished second in the contest in 1997.
Ruffo (all photos from www.cowboysurfshop.net)
HMB - this surfer tried to kick me out at the jetty one time. Pat Bollinger
A great little indo waves
Crowded but beautiful bali
A peak looms.
Paddle out to meet it.
It starts to bowl on the shallow bar.
Logger taking off on the right, the left is open.
Nestle under the ledge.
Feel the wave propel.
See the wave begin to suck.
Look down the line.
Tantalizing conical rapture.
Prepare for takeoff.
Slip to a crouch.
Steer through the steepening drop.
See the lip briefly fly overhead.
Let go of the rail.
Low, compact, pouncy, speeding.
Thick wall stretched out ahead.
It might close-out soon.
A quick check-turn off the bottom.
Ride up to the lip as the wave begins to buckle.
Riding high along the lip, flirting and floating.
Turn off the lip at the last possible second.
Air-drop back down.
Lean back and absorb with the knees through the landing.
Wave explodes behind.
Back out for more on a mellow Sunday afternoon.
kloo found these great shots of old-timey SF from http://sflib1.sfpl.org:82/
South American bombs