Buttons

Montgomery ‘Buttons’ Kaluhiokalani has died from lung cancer. He was the most underrated surfer.Bestowed with a physical genius that is only now starting to be appreciated. He had quite a back story but I will always remember his surfing in the surf flicks from the late 70s and early 80s. He was doing something so different to his more competitively orientated peers. A sad loss and a great name.

Mundaka

Scary Basque action at the hallowed river mouth.

MR

I spotted this on the inspirational MR’s blog.’This photo was taken at Merewether Beach in the early 1990′s. ‘I am riding a 6’2″ 20 1/4″ by 2 3/4″ Twin Fin. ‘

This has gotten the grey cells racing. Mr Richards is one of the truly great performance surfers of all time. He surfed on ,and still does,  boards of dimensions (thickness and width) that would just make the current performance surfer smile.Surely the logs that he surfs on do not have the facility to  feel out the wave face as your typical 6’0″ 18 1/4″ by 2 3/8 shortboard does today? Of course MR is a shaper of great repute too. Would another shaper be able to produce a board for a surfer of significantly less ability that would perform?

I’m going to find out….when I have some spare cash.

Kneelo

The Dawnie

It’s that time of year again.Swells have started to move in with some regularity. The weak windswells of the summer have shifted stage left for groomed groundswells but dammit the evenings are drawing in with the synchronicity that our seasons seem to impose upon us in these sceptred isles.

The dawnie is the only option other than the weekends for working class surfers around the globe during the dark months. In urban California this must mean joining countless grumpy commuters in a quickie before rejoining the highway . In the Shire it involves a more solitary half awake ramble down some mossy paths in a sharp wind followed by a ‘f*ckit I’m here now anyway’ type decision to surf the less than optimal conditions that frequently bely magicseaweed’s predictions. The autumnal setting back of the clocks only means that this self imposed torture can continue well into the winter. For me this aspect of my solitary pursuit is one of the most unpleasant but ultimately rewarding times. It is hard to describe the triumph of squeaking into work just on time having seen the sun rise and ridden a few overhead reef waves.

Image courtesy of Damian Fulton

Mr Florence

Shame about the machine gun editing but there is no denying the blonde one.Depite all the deep tube rides and crazy airs it is the speed of the drop at 1.23 that rings my bell.

Fresh Start

Autumn is slowly creeping up on us. Leaf mould in the bowls and just perhaps the first hurricane swell is hiding below the horizon. C’mon Huey …you owe us.

Injun Ale

The Golden State held many surprises and inevitably confirmed a good deal of my long held impressions. One of my prejudices about the USA was that the nation does not brew proper beer. By this I mean that I expected my recent visit to be refreshed by the fizzy alcoholic pop  such as Budweiser, Coors etc. To my delight and delectation it seems that America has had a beery revolution a couple of decades ago. Now it is possible to find micro breweries in many towns and cities. They produce all sorts of truly delicious ales for the gourmet and gourmand alike. The  India Pale Ale (IPA) is particularly fine.It is generally on the strong side but almost preternaturally tasty.

At the end of each day at our camp site, after much surf/skate/tourist activity a few IPA’s hit the target with unerring accuracy. I was also welcomed with two bottles of similar ale when I got home, thoughtfully provided by Mrs Bowl Rat.

I am typing this at ‘god knows what’ o’clock suffering from the ravages of jet lag on my apparently still stateside brain. The mere act has though had some effect on me…. I have paused for thought.

Beer is a luxury and a pleasure best experienced on special occasions or at least occasionally. I will start to pay more heed to this truism and reap the benefits.

You heard it first here. Travel refreshes the parts that beer cannot reach… to decimate that well known tagline.

Summer

This photo was taken in late March after a short but superlative session at high tide Croyde. It was a muscular swell.

Things could not be more different at the moment. There has not been quality surf for a good while. I have been swimming the width of this bay in the evenings trying to rehab my back.Not much more to add.

Crook(ed)

I read in a surf comic a while ago that Mr Lopez (above) ,accompanied by a group of younger pro surfers, went on a boat trip to the Isles of Mentawai. After a four hour session at an off shore reef pass he paddled over to the skiff that was already occupied by some of the younger but less fit luminaries. His slim shoulders tired by the session of multiple tube rides,long paddles and steep drops heaved his light frame over the gunwales and landed him lightly onto both feet. Anyone who has tried to clamber onto any small craft from the water will know what a herculean task this can be when tired. To execute it with grace and style rather than the likely alternative, which is to flop onto the craft like a flapping Halibut, is an act of a supreme athlete. Mr Lopez had already entered his 6 th decade at this time. Snowboarder, dirt biker, yogi and supreme surfer…what’s his secret?

I wish I knew. Jerry has never suffered a continually sore back from one nights camping. He heals quickly and would never be so stupid as to aggravate a gripe by doing some light swimming and cycling before it is healed. He would meditatively dismiss the discomfort and move forward fruitfully by martialling chi from this  unusual (to him) life event. The rest of us (meaning you :Ed) just moan about and suffer from the foibles presented by our gently decaying bodies. I’m off for more back rub.