Click.
Blink and You’ll Miss It: Scotland — The Inertia
Water, Water Everywhere And Not A Drop To Drink
Hijinks On The High Seas… And Beyond
Tag Archives: surfing
Money Mumbo Jumbo: Prize Purses and Sponsorship Deals on ESPN
Click for full story.
Sin.
Well, that was a regrettable decision.
I began the session at Snapper. That’s not the regrettable part. That part turned out to be satisfactory. At least. That part was all fun drops and successful bottom turns and speeding along deep green walls until my legs were tired. In the rain. You know I love it.
I got out of the water at Greenmount feeling pretty content. I was going to find some grub, some caffeine, some motivation. I turned around and scanned the shoreline. Hmm… I wonder what Kirra’s doing down there. I started walking in that direction. Just out of curiosity, really. It looked alright. There appeared to be some good sections, and there were like four guys out. I spotted a rip and started paddling, thinking I’d get a handful of fun shoulders (no barrels, thanks) and then go eat lunch. So, yeah, I was paddling, paddling…
As an admittedly shit surfer, I harbour a [limited] empathy for kooks.
If you follow me on Twitter, you know that I know the horror of ending up right in someone’s projected track. I think we all do. To ensure that embarrassment entwines itself with guilt in that instance, the person whose wave you’ve bungled is sure to be utterly ripping, if not Joel Parkinson. That being said, I still can’t fathom the headspace of beginners who paddle out at Snapper and I’d like to think that none of my lineup f*ck-ups have caused anyone bodily harm. And that being said, it is so. hard. not to get a bit aggro when, amidst your late drop, you look down and realize (at the last second) that a man and his enormous longboard are caught up in the whitewater, only to skid off your board and join him in multiple sub-surface somersaults, resulting in an actual lump on your arm. When you find the air, he manages to be swept into you by the next wave (which is notably smaller), and this time, his fin slashes your leg. He goes, “That’s just my leg.” As in, “Don’t be alarmed; that thing you may have just kicked (HA) is my leg. Not a creature of the sea.” Yeah, cheers, bud!
Okay, enough whinging. Check out my story on ESPN today about the idea of paid webcast subscriptions. Many kind thanks in advance for your cooperation.
Ketchup
A [lightly edited] excerpt from an email I sent yesterday at 2:15 p.m.:
Last night, I experienced the acute pain of a bluebottle sting. Ummm, my entire leg felt like it was on fire and swelling up, and the pain spread to my groin! How insane is that? Thinking that perhaps I was stung by an irukandji, or was having an allergic reaction to a regular, ol’ hombre de guerra (man o’ war), I called B____ in a panic.
—
“Is that normal?” I asked.
“Yeah, that sounds… pretty normal, yeah.”
—
He told me his mum’s remedy, “dating from approximately 1945,” was to apply vinegar, but that he preferred ice. I settled for a bag of frozen veggies. It did decrease the swelling. And made for a funny Instagram. (Well, I think it’s funny.)
Actually, it occurred to me that the laziest (yet perhaps most effective) way of bringing you up to speed is via photographs. So, I am storrowing an idea from the brilliant fellows over at Surfing mag: Here’s some of what I’ve been neglecting to tell you about in a handy gallery of recent Instagram photos:
If, inexplicably, you’re keen for more of my mundane misadventures and mediocre photography, find me: @casebut.
Id, Ego, and Superego.
Chasing interviews, hunting cheap [enough] flights, drinking coffee, checking the surf, trying to feel out the future while remaining “noncommittal.” Or untethered. Avoiding [additional] credit card debt. Making coffee. Serving coffee. Drinking coffee. Thinking about surfing. Checking the surf. Eating massive bikkies for lunch. Skyping my mom. Pitching editors. Thinking about not thinking about boys. Boy. Thinking about surfing. Surfing. Eating mango/vodka smoothies for dinner. Facebooking. Thinking about flying. Dreaming about sharks. Missing Scotland. Prematurely dreading leaving Australia. Thinking about “home.” Surfing. Charging flights to my Amex. Frequent flier miles. Working to pay off my Amex. Funneling money into social life (beer/Mexican food/bus fare/body wash) instead. Drinking coffee. Re-pitching editors. Accruing interest. Starring/ignoring emails with the subject line “Your Student Loans.” Absolutely refusing to think about boys. Boy. Wearing sunscreen. Failing to reapply sunscreen. Working. Surfing. Editing. Skyping. Coffee. Harassing editors. Stalking sources. Calling legends. Leaving voicemails. Texting legends. Answering the question, “Who are you?” (Posed by legends.) Drinking coffee. Formulating hypotheses. Digging up statistics. Checking the surf. Tweeting. Transcribing. Surfing. Breaking down and thinking about boys. Boy. For 10 seconds. Eating wedges for dinner. Sleeping. Just a little. Devising a plan. Tossing said plan out the window.
Such is life.
Church.
Sunday morning at BR. Finally, a break in the “devil wind.” I manage to drag myself out of bed before dead high, even though I worked until a few hours ago. Every other stir-crazy surfer in the vicinity has the same idea. Some of them wear spring suits and tops, but they seem superfluous. (As usual.) Knee-high and pretty clean. We’ll take it.
Sunday morning at BR. Another lull in the horrendous wind that’s been blowing without fail for days. It pushes with such mighty force that it creates a wind swell on the creek. This morning, it is still. I manage to drag myself out of bed before dead high, even though I watched tele until a few hours ago. At first the sun seems benevolent, but after an hour, we realize that it’s got bite. Tan lines appear on already tanned, sunscreened skin. In 60 minutes or less. The water is cool and green. Which is better than cold and brown. Last week, the water was so brown, you couldn’t see your feet dangling below you. In an area that MSW calls “lonely and sharky,” this was not comforting. It didn’t help that sharks were apparently snapping birds from the sea’s surface in Byron. Today, thankfully, I can see my feet. There is a mini swell. Four foot. The sand’s not perfect. The crowd’s not perfect. Not perfect. But close. There are about 20 guys (and girls) in the lineup, which feels like a lot at a spot I’ve heard described as “still relatively undiscovered.” They’re all clumped at the one peak. I have much better luck down the beach with the other people who aren’t really interested in fighting over waves. I inevitably kook out once or twice: blow a takeoff, botch a turn. Fouls aside, I get some of the better waves I’ve had in a while. It’s amazing what surfing more months of the year does for your surfing. Anyway, clear-ish water, fun-sized waves, like-minded people.
Where would you rather be on a Sunday morning?
Swoon: Taj’s Fiji Vignette 3/3
This is like the video version of an ice cream sunday. Or something less wholesome (but equally as delicious).
Vodpod videos no longer available.
Fiji Vignette 3/3, posted with vodpod
Aussie commercials are Super Bowl caliber, every day. Step it up, America.
A scheduling mix-up at work has given me the morning off. At first, I was annoyed that I woke up at 6 a.m. and rode my bike down there in the wind, only to ride it back 30 minutes later. But then I surfed for two hours and I wasn’t annoyed anymore. Funny how that happens. PLUS, tomorrow’s my birthday! For no reason, other than the fact that I’m now in a good mood and I feel like posting something, here’s my current favorite Aussie commercial:
Who’s got a good birthday surf vid I can use for tomorrow?! Send it ova!
Circumnavigating Part 7: Making Like Magellan
Day two at Hanalei. Mike is exceptionally patient and encouraging, so I’m not sure what I’m hoping Alouette will do for me in the water, but I do have hopes of a better outcome than yesterday. I suppose on some level, I’m thinking that Alouette is a woman and, maybe, more my speed. Mike is a gristley guy with a lifetime of surf experience, ranging from New York winters to pumping Hanalei and beyond. I’m also hoping that the waves will be a size that I consider more fun than, say, deadly, since everyone keeps saying the swell’s going down.
Alouette turns out to be just as dauntless as Mike and just a little less nurturing (in the lineup). The swell is still up.
Water, Water Everywhere And Not A Drop To Drink 