Tag Archives: surfer magazine

Surf Mags and Hookers

Magazine hunting in New York City is kind of like looking for a hooker in Amsterdam (I would imagine): There’s a huge abundance and the variety seems endless, but you still may not be able to find exactly the one you desire.

Scouring for surf magazines is a game of pure chance. You’ll probably see Surfing at a newsstand here or there. You may find a SURFER at Barnes and Noble–likely the one at Union Square; maybe not the one on 86th. I think they order five copies and if everyone else in the neighborhood beats you there, you’re shit out of luck. The Surfer’s Journal, The Surfer’s Path, Australia’s Surfing World. All potential scores.

Yesterday, I braved the crazies and crowds at Union Square in search of copies of Transworld and UK Esquire. And look, when I say “braved,” I’m not being dramatic like this weekend, when I was hit by a car. I mean I had to wade through swarms of dazed and socially retarded people. One of them walked up to me, stared me down (at a distance of about 12 inches), and said:

“Nice legs.”

I kept walking. But anyway, I put some effort into getting those magazines. I couldn’t find Esquire but I did pick up Transworld. Annnd I also happened to stumble across Huck and Wavelength. !!! I snapped them up and hightailed it out of that God-forsaken tourist hub.

Every once in a while, you hit it big. Totally worth the weirdness.

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Semi Mixed-Up Midway Ruminations

Here’s some nonsense from the intern log I had to write for NYU:

I have sand in my car.  In the cup holders and the back seat.  I have sand in my sheets, though I just washed them.  I have sand on my bedroom floor and in my backpack.  The ports of my computer are jammed with sand.  There is sand in all of the pockets, of all of my clothes.  In my ears, in my eyes.  I’m sure there’s sand in my sinuses.

I arrived at LAX for the first time on a Sunday, around lunchtime.  I procured my criminally overpriced rental car and managed to find my way to the 405 South: what seems to be, upon initial inspection, the most unstable freeway in the continental United States.  The weird, grated concrete feels a lot less safe when driving a borrowed Ford Focus between hurried Californians hurtling along at completely unreasonable speeds.

With a sigh of relief, I pulled off the freeway into San Clemente.  There were literally surfboards everywhere.  I saw an old Porsche with a board strapped to the roof and fell in love a little bit.

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The Bible

As you may have deduced, I’m heading to California in a couple of days.  On Sunday, to be exact.  Right now, I should be putting the final touches on the toast for my best friend’s wedding, which is tomorrow.  Or at least packing something.

This toast is probably one of the more important things I’ll ever write.  I’m going to read it, mean it, drink to it.  There will be lots of drinking to it.  The morning after, hangover or not, I intend to be at brunch: 10 a.m.  I have an unnatural devotion to omelets.  The following morning (if you can call it that) it’s off to JFK airport while it’s still dark.  I should probably ask Kel and Dave to stop for a porkroll bagel on the way.  Hopefully around lunchtime — California lunchtime, that is — I’ll be in the OC (ha ha) with my surfboard, some clothes, and my laptop.

I’m going to work for the Bible.

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Billabong Odyssey & XXL Awards

The idea behind Philip Boston’s film Billabong Odyssey is really cool: assemble the world’s most notable big wave riders, dispatch them to exotic locations in search of enormous swells, and hopefully, that elusive 100-foot monster.  The documentary is a little bit choppy, but there are lots of compelling moments, like the end: Mike Parsons suffers an insane wipeout at Jaws.  A few minutes later, he catches the colossus that ends up as the film’s opening sequence.

The footage from Teahupo’o was actually one of my favorite parts; those wipeouts and over-the-falls clips are agonizing.

In related news, Billabong held its 10th Annual XXL Awards at the end of April.  The Biggest Wave Award went to Sebastian Steudtner for his ride at  Jaws on December 7th, 2009.  Check it out:

Even more related news: Read Zach Weisberg’s blog post on big wave surfing and the industry.

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Social Surfers

A tsunami advisory goes out for the entire Pacific Ocean.  On the East Coast of the United States, Facebook explodes with status updates.  At 9:56 a.m. Hawaii time, a surfer writes, “Sitting in Hawaii waiting for the END OF THE WORLD!”  At 2:57 p.m. Eastern time, a surfer in New York City reads it.  Twenty-one minutes later, this pattern repeats.  Multiply this activity by x: Twitter is veritably vibrating.

We surfers seem to love social networking, and, actually, all things internet.  In the beginning, we all used to follow one of the major magazines on Twitter, and maybe Mick Fanning.  Now, the possibilities are nearly endless: names, big and small, in all facets of the industry, and more people are signing up all the time.

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Surf Shop Challenge 2010

The SURFER and Oakley Surf Shop Challenge kicks off April 2nd with the Southwest regional comp in Cardiff, C.A.  The next stop is Seaside Heights, N.J. (Casino Pier!)  Last year, the team from Heritage (Sea Isle City, N.J.) won the Northeast title for the second consecutive year.  On April 19-20, Heritage will battle royale with Ocean Hut, Inlet Outlet and other regional teams for a page in SURFER, awesome gear, and a trip to Huntington Beach for the National Championships in September.  Also up for grabs: $10,000 and the [somewhat diluted] right to say the best surfers come from ____.  Check out the full schedule here.

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Alpaca Video from SURFER

This guy in Peru is teaching an Alpaca how to surf… the poor thing falls off every time it gets to its feet, but seems determined to learn.  I personally like the line, “And sometimes they eat them.”

Vodpod videos no longer available.

more about “Alpaca in a Life Vest | Surfer Magazine“, posted with vodpod
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“Kelly Slater and Dream Crew Paddle Cortes Bank” from SURFER’s YouTube

There’s a mighty painful looking wipeout around 1:46… Enjoy!

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