bill hype

as Bill makes it's way out of the Caribbean and up the eastern seaboard everyone from South Beach to Nova Scotia is freaking out in anticipation. there's some sort of mystique around hurricane swells that is probably based more in fiction than fact.

out of all the hurricane swells I've surfed in Florida and here in Nova Scotia over the years only one or two are memorable. most of the time the storms would be too close, or not close enough. howling onshore winds would ensure shit conditions and rip out all of the sandbars -trashing the bottoms for months to come.

I remember one year, working on a lawn crew with my friend Troy, we emerged out of the morning fog and a big four hour job to find the U.S.1 slammed with traffic and the gas stations with 100 yard line-ups. we phoned our boss Glenn to see what the deal was.

"Hey Glen it's Troy. Looks like they are evacuating."

"yep. Did you guys finish today's accounts?"

suddenly I see Troy's face twist in consternation.

"whatever man we're bringing the truck in now" he snapped in annoyance.

we grabbed our boards and paddled out in front of the old crab restaurant. I never made it out past the inside and by the time I got out of the water I'd drifted a mile south. it was victory at sea and you couldn't see how far out the back the sets were breaking. I think Troy snagged a wave but it's not like anyone would have seen him.

meantime the entire beach-side was evacuating. I went back to the Cape Canaveral house and I'm sure D$ and I made dinner as usual and watched Friday for 113th time -ignoring the evacuation warning.

there was one hurricane swell I remember well. and it was one of the few where the winds were favourable and the swell not so maxed out that it was closing out everywhere. I got home from a long day of mowing lawns and just headed out back with the old and yellowed 8'6" Natural Art single fin that T-Bone had left behind -no leash.

usually it never broke out back as we were north of the Cocoa Beach pier and it was either too deep or not in the swell window. but that afternoon I scored perfect glassy head high waves to myself. I'm sure it was quite bigger down at 2nd light or further south but I didn't want to drive. there are very few surfs that I remember clearly and that is definitely one of the best. perfect sunset nose rides and trimming with no one else on the beach except for a couple of old fishermen casting into the surf for their dinner.

most of the hurricane swells I've experienced here over the past three seasons have been much of the same. days of hype leading up to the storm -with the surf forecasting sites giving the swell a record reading (as I write this a certain site is giving the Sunday swell 5 stars -ooooohhhhh)and then post hype depression sets in.

surely there will be some spots with the right orientation to the wind somewhere on the coast. those who know where to go will return with tales of glory. for me, I'll stay close to home and see how it goes, maybe if the track stays true I'll score some clean surf but most likely I'll be reliving the old Florida days -padlding out in way overheard closeouts and paddling against the drift without gaining on it.

not to worry though winter's nor-eaters will be here soon and then we'll get what we're waiting for.

if you wanna keep track fo yoself click here

careta & siblings

my Dad recently got a slide scanner. there's gotta be some jewels in there since he was an avid photographer in the 80's. here's the 3 siblings with our white boxer named Careta circa 84-85.

Cape Breton

Cape Breton is as beautiful as any island I've ever seen. we drove through a few Acadian villages. this house flying the Acadian flag was interesting.

saturday to tuesday

photos and story: Baldiri

surfboards

sometime I wonder about my obsession with surfing - perhaps this wise bumper sticker will shine a light.



bunus Skip Frye clip from '69

the return

been two years now since my primo Baldiri visited. he arrives tomorrow from Iceland where he's spent the last week treking mountians and glaciers. we'll have a good time no doubt -as we have a backcountry canoe trip planned and hopefully get some surf in as well.


for those of you who've never been here I'd like to show you what our coast often looks like in the summer. I'm not sure what the meteorological explanation is for our summer fog but I can say that it's plentiful and sometimes so thick that you can't see the shoreline from the line-up -nor can you see the waves 'till they are mere feet away. here's Baldiri with the knowledge that out there on that day it was head high.


somewhere out here is secret sandbar plain sight number 7's.

friday

it’s Friday morning and the kettle in the kitchenette down the hall is gurgling to boiling point as the coils on the espresso machine heat up, dubcast #16 is coming through my PC speaker strained but it sort of sets the mood for what is a Friday desk day.

JB and I made the morning migration to the coast, hoping against all odds that the minimal buoy readings and high tide would still allow for some rideable conditions. our hopes were dashed as soon as we ascended the wooden steps and looked out over the unusually calm north Atlantic.

so it was back to bed at six hoping for another hour and half of sleep. the little one inside B’s belly was kicking me awake each time my eyes closed, perhaps reminding me that soon sleep will be erratic at best but mostly short.

the ride in to work was mostly uneventful. I peeped Babylon in his big white van at the stop sign about a block in front of me as I was cruising the wrong way on the one way. I slowed to a crawl hoping that he’d turn onto North Street before I was at shouting distance. don’t feel like no Babylon bandulu ginalship so early on a peaceful morning.

recommended readings for this morning:

Safe to Sea

the estyonage

"everybody wants to raid the barn, nobody wants to plant the corn." anthony B

Lawmang's wisdom

when trying to decide whether to head out or not D$ says to me,

"onshore is the new offshore. get out there."

life is great when you keep it simple

good relationships

good food

wholeheartedly immersing yourself into your passions

one

got up at 4:45 and called the buoys. 3' @ 8 seconds and wind dead. I already had my things ready -just hit the ON button on the kettle to heat water for coffee and packed the stuff in the car. within ten minutes from sound sleep I was heading East towards secret sandbar plain sight to see if she was doing her magic. my hope what that she'd be firing like a debutant drag queen on the eve of the pride parade. however, hopes were tempered by the fact that high tide was only 3 hours away and small kine swells love less water. either way the drive was good and the coffee better.

on the boardwalk mosquitoes were dive bombing from sights unseen. I think they breed in the reeds that cover the dunes. and at dusk they appear like small squadrons and attack the warmest flesh they can find. so after a quick scan of the glassy conditions I run back down the steps and pull on my 3:2 and decide on the fish sans leash. I sprint down the trail between the dunes and as I crest I see a small set detonating on plain sight number 7's. I put down the fish and run back for 3 fins. this time I'll use a leash on 'er as the last time I did this dance she broke her nose - mostly cosmetic but it took Blacks the better part of a day to fix 'er back up.

all in all the waves were less than stellar but then that is just a small part of the equation. there was a crew of black ducks making a ruckus a peak down from number 7's. screaming seagulls swung overhead sounding angry but maybe I just don't understand seagull. to the east red faced headlands with large foreheads look out towards the mighty Atlantic. and I, alone amongst this backdrop, not a soul to share it with and yet not lonely in the least. it is on these quiet mornings that I can identify and remember what is of value and what is not. hope you saw the sunrise too.

sunday

early bird went hungry this morning. solitary drive keepin an eye out for deer in the headlights -coffee in hand to sharpen vision. at the coast the fog still thick and milky. a southwest wind pushing through the fog with surprising stealth and the high tide making a dribbling weak mess out of secret sandbar plain sight number sevens.

alone on the boardwalk I admire the handsome Atlantic. her sands slowly gaining momentum in the less turbulent summer months as if we were on different clocks. in winter we swimmers get fat for warmth and perhaps from less movement while she slims, spitting her sands out with each long period swell that rocks her skirts. the icy cold brine like a tonic for making beaches turn to stone for months only to magically appear sandy in August.

standing there I relish sleep and so after looking over the dunes and admiring the sword thin grasses swaying at ten knots I got back in the car drove home peacefully. no music in the car for over a year now -a fact that seems to escape my attention but also provides solitude on drives to visit Maritime shores.

now I will turn my attention to other matters. bacon sizzling and later back yard shenanigans and if I'm motivated a run around the peninsula to see what Sunday people do with mid-days.

evenin edit:

got a call from Picaso 'round mid day -says he's gonna take a gander. I catch a ride and we score low tide grinders with two others at secret sandbar plain sight number seventeens. a surfy day after all.

bike polo, nike and tommy hillfiger

the other day I was taking a stroll and passed by the road hockey/basketball courts next to the fire station in the north end where a small group of BMI challenged hipsters were clumsily trying to play bike polo. when a trend hits the eastern most coast of north America we can safely assume that it's hit a critical mass and will be soon co-opted by the giant clothing franchises and whatnots.

nothing against tight pants and people who spend a majority of their time planning their eccentric outer appearances to look as if they weren't even trying to look that way only to sneer at their fellow city dwellers with scorn and hubris. but really, at some point someone's gotta call bullshit.

I'm not calling bullshit on the game of bike polo -in fact if I ever felt inclined to participate in a team sport, competition is not one of my strengths, I would consider bike polo. but would I wear a hipster uniform and starve myself to look a certain way on the court? probably not.

the Halifax hipster scene is in full swing now -even though often the north end hipsters are unidentifiable from the south end college crowd purchased their look at the mall.

I know this is sounding like a rant by some middle aged guy feeling bitter about getting older. sure.

but remember one thing you radical hipsters -actually more than one thing so I'll bullet:

-if yer gonna ride fixed with no front brake then at least clip in to your pedals somehow cause otherwise your gonna get bucked like a drunken cowboy at an underground hipster rodeo

-raise the seat on your bike and not only will you look more "stylish" without trying but your bike will also be more efficient and fun to ride

-riding a fixie doesn't make your 'core' score go up. who gives a shit if your riding a fixed wheel. every toddler on a tricycle is riding fixed and they don't front

-a bike is a bike.

-there's only one Gonz

"if you're gonna do a nose wheelie, fuckin do a nose wheelie bro."




-

in the face of drink and smoke I run

these are no longer disthymic times. the clouds have lifted and with them the figurative fog has given way to sunshine. a cold northeast wind still blows and the ocean is lake calm with lucky low tide sandbar sessions here and there but mostly smooth silky surfaces on the horizon. is it spring or strain of will that lifts the greys to lighter hues? I can’t say but one thing is certain, one step in front of the other gets me somewheres.

each day I try and try to remember. eleven years ago I asked skinny Rob to stop his Santeria for a moment and use his tattoo machine to etch a simple statement on my calf. “will transcends fear” I said to him proudly, displaying a mix of symbols, some as old as three thousand years. what did I know about transcendence and wills and waning idealism's in the face of drink and smoke so thick that for years I would not escape the fog?

what do I know now? nothing more than there is only one step in front of the other. legacy? that’s for sculptors or perhaps scientists. written words are no longer a path to remembrance for futures. written words are like so much dirt, so many opinions loosed upon us with disregard for thought or person or creed or even crude human decency. Burroughs knew it in his drug addled middle years as he led his ragged troop of beats into oblivion and shitty parenting –unwittingly (or perhaps not so much) outliving them all by decades.

surf? it is transcendental but we can’t write about that now can we. oh no. if you’re not producing you ain’t shit mister. “sit down and shut up.”

I grabbed a number ticket from the red dispenser and sat in the stale waiting room. H1N1 signs and sanitizing stations every 12 inches like sentries. who are the swine anyway? is it not we who are ruining it for we?

“again sir I will not ask you again. sit down and shut up.”

so now I run. at first from fear and, lookin behind my shoulder knee jerk reactions, left over from those early sleepless nights in Isnotu. could I blame it on my Tia? she took me at a tender age to see the old soothsayer in his dark dank home to see if he’d cure me through shitless scare tactics out of sucking my thumb again. after the celebration with the superman piñata I slept less and less until 13 years after she didn’t come that night I lost it completely and then it got foggy.

surf? not to be underestimated in terms of power to reconnect those synapses loosed from the ether. like it or not we are beasts with intrinsic needs. we can philosophise our ways out of thinking we’re not needy but sooner or later the thin veneer that is our vanity vanishes and then what?

I run. for ego and self image and I can’t say it’s not a draw. I run from what I would be doing otherwise. sloth or time wasting.

I said it before and I dare say it again. I have these muscles and tendons and bones. and well honed they can move me through space with the grace and fluidity of any wild animal. fail for just one day to use them and I forgo the greatest gift I’ve been given. the gift of self propulsion. some praise our ability to think. but how amazing is it to ride the swells upon the ocean and then forget?

I run to surf.

surf? because you can.

whys and how comes

I never said I wasn’t doin it anymore. just that I wouldn’t be doin it as much. because doing mostly happens on my feet, outside, away from these keys. in the interim since the last post I’ve received a small heap of whys and how comes and yer kinddin’s and assorted other whatnots. there have also been a healthy number of encouraging and complimentary cues from friends in flesh and virtual too. thank you all.

today is Canada day and we have a day off of work. I’ve been working, however lightly and haphazardly, since before seven am on various virtual projects. the irony of this keyboard for me is that somehow I’ve learned to use it and the inteweb in ways that some find useful. so it is that I spend so many hours sitting in a Western pose developing a weak core and perhaps other less than glamorous ailments. so to balance this life I get up at four in morn to surf small kine waves and arrive at work tired as a dog but clear of mind. things don’t make sense but the experiences that I remember are the hardest ones to come by. now I have to go for a run.

read the Esteyonage today it good for you.

putting an end to the fuckery

A one surf week is ended with the usual blog roll and interwebs fuckery that is a morning at work. Recently the word fuckery has been used profusely by Lewis Samuels in Post Surf. Not sure where he got it from. I heard the word used often in Jamaica as in “ gwaan man -yuh a fuckery” or maybe in reference to political news on the radio you would hear someone say “a fuckery dat man” or when a rum head came beggin around the shop for a drink old P would yell “come outta ere with yuh fuckery man! Guh wey!”

For a cynical mind like mine fucekry is the perfect looking glass for deciphering the cipher. In my waning interest to keep talking about how my latest surf session went (it’s just a bunch of fuckery anyway) I wonder if it’s even worthwhile to continue Ku Yah all together. I can see the hits decline as the surfy posts subside. Of course initially Ku Yah was an exercise in writing –to learn to write. Indeed I did learn to write –if only in short ADHD spurts and mostly about fuckery so only time will tell if that particular skill will come in handy some day.

I’ve asked myself why I read other people’s blogs. Is it the grass is always greener rubber neck ego trip in my head that makes me do it? There is so much content on the interwebs and a lot of it rehashing of itself. Do I want to add to that fuckery too? Some folks I reckon actually use the interwebs for personal expansion and growth. And relationships of value can occasionally spring from the virtual black hole. But mostly it’s a waste of time.

If we are to consider our assets in life, and I don’t mean capital assets, what do we have? We have our health, our intellect, our ability to forgive and love (because that’s how you get forgiven and loved), and time. Time is as valuable resource and like trees or fish it’s a finite non-renewable resource. And god do I ever know how to squander it with fuckery.

Over the past five weeks I’ve been trying to develop a running practice. “Here he goes again with some fuckery” you say. Well perhaps. Certain incidences have inspired me to run; one being the coming of a little one and the practicality of running as a way of maintaining basic fitness. But there are other effects to a running practice like meditative moments, transcending discomfort and pain, learning self discipline, developing will power, experiencing the weather and its moods, expelling toxins out of my body via sweat, strengthening my heart, lungs, bones, muscles, relieving stress –all without spending any dough or fossil fuel. Running is simple and pure.

We evolved to run certainly for escaping danger as much as for pursuing prey. Our modern lives of sedentary livelihoods have all but eliminated running from our lives. So much so that running is seen as a fringe activity, something that body conscious people do. But it is as natural as breathing or taste.

In short I may not write much here anymore. Instead I will focus on action. On using my muscles and tendons to move through space –whether it be splitting lanes on the cruiser or surfing or running. I will read books. Something I’ve neglected for some time. I will cook and finish some creative projects that have been marinating in the basement or in my brain. If you’ve read this far I’d like to say thanks. Thanks for stopping in often and for your occasional commentary. If you want to be in touch feel free to send me a note at rasblog at gmail.

cheers

ras

respite

there's nothing to report. last week I joined Facebook. then I closed it. I learned what's inside Facebook -wasn't missing anything. I ran a lot last week and went for a fun trail spin with JB and buddy Michael. muddy trails and fun descents. one gear and springy front end. new content? original content| that's what should be here. no surf. flat. a nice reprieve from humdrum of surf surf surf everyday surf. what board do I ride, do I need? can I ride that? will it float me? run to trim the fat and make the thin sled fit the form. then flat. no waves for even logs. so run and ride the single track. lady slippers and new ferns. greens everywhere. after the rains, puddles of mud. pull up the front wheel and let the back one dip into the brown thick mix of post winter soil. run some more. one foot in front of the other. focus on three inches below my centre. focus on even breath and smooth form. focus on what feels natural. intentionally bring one foot forward even with hip to keep up with forward pulling gravity. in the evening? single malt, three cubes of ice and soda water. or one or two pulls. track the mileage and time. make tea and dream and start again. it's flat. no surf. this thing is running its course. it too may need a respite.

tally

ran 5 of 6 days since monday for a total of 18 miles. cycled every day. cooked every day. it's good to move. it's good to use my faculties and guts to enrich the days. for this I give thanks.

roots and herbs

Rashoman

Rashoman is probably one of the best films in terms of examining the human condition and our inhumanity. Janus Films has just remastered it and apparently it's going to be making the rounds in theaters. For those of you in SF and NYC please take advantage as I very much doubt we'll get the pleasure here in Halifax. Kurosawa is by far my favourite film director (I'm not much of a film buff) and Toshiro Mifune never disappoints.

me no wan no rub a dub is only backshot me love

my evil friend surprised me with this photo he snapped sometime this past winter somewhere in Nova Scotia. my backhand has improved since moving to the land of rights three years ago.



the photo is kinda funny -looks like I'm holdin on to a ski rope.

"me no wan no rub a dub is only backshot me love" Lady Saw and Spragga Benz

been a while

since I made somethin.

got out to the spider lake trails on the old single speed for a spring spin. been a year since my last time out there. only saw one lady slipper in bloom. the ferns under the trees green like emeralds. mosquitoes only got me when I stopped for a breather.

riding a bike through the forest is exhilarating. recommend it to anyone. and you don't need a three thousand dollar bike. mine is from 1999 with one speed, V type brakes and an updated fork. I like keeping my bike dialed in so it always feels good with everything tight and straight. no squeaks. all I could hear was my own labored breathing and tires slipping over roots and rocks. I followed the ride with a three mile run and now it's time to rest. it's good to feel my muscles and tendons and joints and guts.

rubbish heap summer transport

dug this frame outta rubbish bin. striped it and threw on an old set of wheels and bars and gone again. simple and basic no fail transport for cross town runs. whole heap a freeness out there. people love dash good things inna trash.

bike week

I love riding my bike and do so most every day exceptin ice or minus 17 temps. yeah I know I'm a pu$$y.

I still remember clearly Christmas day as a kid in Venezuela when my parents presented me with my first wheeled machine -a shiny red and white trike. I dogged that little thing for a long time.

I learned to ride a proper bike in '83. ol Jack got me a Krate style bike from the used bike shop. I ran it up a giant oak tree in the church lot across the street from our house on the first day.

then back in the Andes Calitos and Manuel were bolting 5 speed derailleurs on our beater bmx bikes with t-shifters on the top bar. we'd climb the winding steep road to the village above Las Virtudes -a slow grinding climb that seemed to take hours. at the top the boys would buy a flask of agua ardiente or Anise and then we'd come flyin and hollering down the mountain road like pre-adolescent maniacs with no regard for safety -your standard risk taking youthful behavior.

riding my bike is still as fun today as it was then in my youth.

so if it's been too long since you rode your bike, take your tire back from Pooky the pup and go for a spin. not to save the environment or to advocate for cycling rights, or to be healthy but just to have fun. simple old fun.

RIP David Carradine

rest in peace grasshopper

I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Ice Cream

here's a scene from one of Jim Jarmuch's best films Down by Law.

stop

things are supposed to die -to come to a natural end.

we do.

yet we strive for some sort of legacy that we may be remembered.

old Chinaski had it right. it's a wonder how long people will wanna read about his gamblin and whorin and drinkin and fightin. about dingy LA and other failed writers and about his cars and listening to classical music on the radio while drinking beer wine whisky.

all things are naturally meant to come to an end, to fulfill the cycle of energy moving across our earths surface and through its guts, moving always and endlessly.

humans?

we like to prolong the inevitable. we like pretend like we can stop change. like we's some sorta power above the antelope when in truth modern man can't even chase the antelope.

these are the good old days no?

this dribbly rubbish inspired partly by Juana's Addicion

sons of slaves

as times change and one generation's seeming demise shifts into the next generations pop culture emblems one thing remains constant. humanity is not humanist. humanism is nothing but a construct of our romantic ideals of peace and love. humans are in fact animals (duh)who live by the basic code of survival using intrinsic instinct. where's the hope? self reliance. it is our nature.


classic Junior Delgado tune with Lee Perry production

style: fixed lean 1930's

when the surf is flat my mind turns to bikes

"when the surfer is high, so is the risk of drowning"

well I managed to get out for a sunrise surf with Blacks on Saturday. we hit up secret spot number sevens for some waist high glassy lines. this spot seems to still hold it's shape even when it's small and we both had our share of long down the line waves over the shallow kelpy boulders that sometimes pitched and boiled the wave face like a melting highway on an acid trip.

speaking of acid trips -here's an interesting study revealed at the 56th Annual Meeting of the American College of Sports Medicine in Seattle. according to the study "Surfing under the influence of drugs or alcohol are two of the prime dangers facing surfing enthusiasts..." Dr. James MacDonald goes on to illuminate us with "The 'cool factor' sort of mitigates against wearing helmets or ear plugs to protect against swimmer's ear."

never mind kooks with cords dangling soft tops in the mush like so many dinosaur spears.

old MacDonald didn't forget to remind us about the dangers of localism either: "I was surprised at how much violence there can be in surfing culture. Some of the injuries I've seen have nothing to do with surfing-they're fisticuffs. There's no referee out in the water to break up fights." As popular surfing sites become crowded with novices and out-of-towners, veteran surfers may react to protect their "zones." remebers that!

maybe this Doc surfs and rather than stink eye the soft toppers he publishes blatant warnings in scientific journals. I reckon it won't be long before the Bra Boys start adopting his tactics.

my favourite part of the study though was that "those with full-time jobs that cut into wave time may experience injuries relating to deconditioning, such as muscle strains, soft tissue damage and falls."

so it is. I better close my office door today and bust a few push ups and crunches lest I get injured from deconditioning. and most importantly I think I've learned that the two shots of Crown in my dawn patrol coffee are probably adding to the "risk" factor of surfing making my 'cool' and 'core' factors rise to new highs (pun intended).

ok best get to work

see the original article here or search PubMed

further

the popularization of surfing continues its spread across America. the WHO has announced that surfing is getting close to becoming a pandemic and will likely declare it a level 5 in the coming days.

FARC turns 45

that is what I call perserverance!

death

keep on runnin

style = chase hawk

5 things

1. favourite blog at the moment is the Esteyonage
















2. best surf writing coming from North America on the web is Postsurf: unfiltered thoughts on Surf Culture by Lewis Samuels. check it here postsurf.com

3. best girl in the world is my lickle B

4. favourite food is arepas con carne mechada, fried egg and queso blanco (or light feta in Halifax)














5. and daily runs this week for relaxation and trimming to fit into the new thruster

happy birthday Mr T.

..and dammit it's flat. but it's sunny here in the north Atlantic so for that I must give thanks.

if you haven't already check out the rad new blog talkin' story. Mick Sowry of Safe to Sea and Musica Surfica has a great story there of surfing in Europe and chatting with Dora about Charlie Manson.

seen

as far as the eye can see

bike ninja vs. mr. perfect bicycle commuter man

over the last few weeks there's been an increase in bike commuters on my daily route. it's expected in spring just as there are more surfers in the water. there's one guy in particular, a middle-aged man astride a shiny new sporty street bike with flat bar and disk brakes, one of those homogeneous jobbies from one the big three bike companies. anyways, today he called me out for my swiftness at charging the yellow. I could hear him behind me, scolding in "that is ridiculous" kinda tone.

so what did I say? nothing. I just sped off on my merry way as I do every day. been communing to work by bike since 2005 when we lived in PDX. my friend Drew in PDX, originally from D.C., had always commuted and had been hit by cars twice -neither time his fault and accidents quite serious. Drew never followed the "traffic laws" on his bike.

let's face it. laws that state that cyclist should obey the same rules as motor vehicles are absurd. cyclists cannot accelerate like a motored metal box therefore they can be overrun, especially on narrow streets. a bicycle weighs nothing compared to even a small car or motorcycle so accidents caused by cyclists tend to cause little harm. and most obvious of all a bike is NOT a motor vehicle and should not be treated as such.

I know if I'm self righteous. why else have a blog? but I also value self preservation, especially in a city like Halifax where the driving public hates cyclists. so the new commuter on his shiny bike can kiss my ass, I'd rather be a bike ninja than a cripple.

happiness is love

some time during my mid twenties I realized that the quality of my life was based on the personal relationships I had with my family and friends. it was evident then as it is now that as a social being, my ability to give and receive respect and love and to share ideas was what gave me a sense of fulfillment.

these guys at Harvard took 72 years to figure this out but I guess any time is a good time. this is a great video if you have six minutes.

MP and mental illness

in my current job I work on projects that assist developing countries with mental health infrastructure. this includes basics like legislation and policy to protect people with mental illness, but also training and education, administration and development of clinical programs.

the challenge with mental illness is that there is a lot stigma attached to it whether it be for cultural or religious reasons. unlike cardiovascular illness, the treatment of mentally ill by the public is almost always at arms length and with a lot of accompanying fear.

MP as I understand became schizophrenic. this disease usually appears during adolescence (13 to 25 years of age) and is very difficult to treat. I don't know much about Peterson but it will be interesting to see how the surf media portrays his condition.

Searching for Michael Peterson Trailer from jolyon hoff on Vimeo.

style

the blue flame

a fleeting moment in the life of old blue. she made the distance across the continent twice with trailer in tow, boards on the roof, and bikes hanging off the deck lid. thanks Gramps!

mondays

5.9' @ 9 seconds
wind WNW 7 to 10 kts
water temp 40.5 °F
air temp 39.7 °F

waves -well pretty damn good if you ask me.

paddled out at a quarter to six. black was already there -says he paddled out and it was too dark to see if it was workin.

well it was workin.

I got one of the longest waves I've had in weeks.

he got out before seven and for the next forty five minutes I had it to myself. I looked around in awe. I let a few go by me so I could feel myself bob up and over the lips while sitting on my board. I tried taking off deeper each time and got stuffed about half the time. the smaller ones were better -way better. but I kept paddling over in front of the boulder and waiting for the ones that had the overhead take-offs. they'd line up far to the west and as I popped up and looked down the line I knew there was now way I'd make it.

funny how confidence plays tricks on you. towards the end of my time in the water I fell on a few and the ones I caught I'd squander. so my mood turned from the elation of the first wave to self pity for falling off perfect waves.

and the whole time the marvel that is a sunrise in the Maritimes was unfolding in front of me. black and white ducks flying low and some landing in the line-up, oblivious to the swells. down east I could the plumes coming off the backs of swells breaking on the beach. the sky mostly clear finally after days of low slung clouds and the grass green like emeralds and growing finally after a long long winter.

now I am ready for work.

que comida!

simmering rice with saffron, shrimp, and chicken stock with white wine


finished and cooling with digby scallops, squid and shrimp. under the seafood is chicken, fresh spicy chorizo, olive, capers and other secret goodness. this was a dinner request for Blacks birthday. we had a few beer as well.


my little B is making her favourite wrapped food. chicken tamales. we had to scramble all over town to find the husks.




food weekend

happy birthday Black

one year older means you possess a bit more wave knowledge, more endurance, and probably become a little more curmudgeonly.

thursday surf

JB picked me up at 5:15. we were in the water before sunrise. the waves were small but secret sandbar plain sight number 5's was doin its high tide thing again. warbly and shifty. not as good as the last time I surfed it. still if you got on the ones that walled towards the east you could make the inside section. just a few little pumps and huggin the steep little face before it closed out over the cobbles and dry sand.

maybe one day I'll get to the point where I go and look at it and decide it's too junky and go home. for now though if I think I can ride it then I'm on it. and now at work having already had a full day I feel at peace and completely happy.

Peta

good morning

was in the water at 6 this morning. took my log and surfed a right point. the waves were consistently waist high but it was a mixed swell and the peaks were scattered. there was a slight northwest wind when I first got in the water and it gradually increased but caused no harm. high tide was at 5:30 so the waves were a bit mushy. after about an hour and a half I came in. I looked over at the little sandbar that was working at high tide a week ago and sure enough it was workin again. it breaks right on shore but there's a fast wall for about twenty or thirty yards. I won't show up at high tide again without my shortboard.

rode my bike in to work and was at my desk by 9 and I've already had a full day.

danger

fires are done. some folks lost homes. sad yes it's true. luckily most who lost homes were the city's rich and elite. they can rebuild. one guy on the news almost started crying over the loss of his 6000 square foot home. waaa.

surfed saturday and sunday with Blacks. nothin epic but a blast nonetheless and my shoulders and back feel like I got a work out.

if you've taken a few waves on the head then you must certainly know what this green bandit is in for. the wave is California's infamous Wedge. click on the photo for the full 100.

"scrub it kook."

fires

here's two shot's take by my friend KK from her balcony yesterday. the fire is still raging.

Halifax on Fire

this is the best photo I could find of the fire which started late this afternoon on the west side of town. it's completely out of control and spans five miles. the winds are howling and the rain looks to hold off 'till mid day. definitely a stressful time although we are clear on the other side of the city. lots of people are evacuated and many have lost homes in just hours. crazy.

the story is here

almost...

... if I'd stalled a little higher in the pocket and stuck my mitt in the face a little deeper then maybe I'd have heard that fabled sound. foiled again but soon I'll find it.


phil taylor photo

Jaimal Yogis and "Salt water Buddha"

A couple months ago Jaimal Yogis sent me a copy of his soon to be released book. Actually the book is out on Friday. Often I've wondered if I relate to others based on generational similarities (music, art, current events, etc.) or sheer coincidence. Perhaps it's a mix of the two. Saltwater Buddha however resonated with me in so many ways it's uncanny. Here's a short clip about the author and the book. I'll be writing a more detailed book review on Phoresia.org in the coming week.

spring and the joy of crowds

was in the water by 6:30 on Saturday morning. would've been there earlier had I not checked some spots for which my hopes had been too high considering the tide and receding swell. there were two kids walking down along the path to the point when I was suiting up. normally I make the paddle through the bay to warm up as it were but I chose to pick my way along the rocks instead with the high tide lapping my feet. out at the point there was some morning sickness and all around weakness. the lefts coming off the point were short but steeper and probably a little bigger since they were heading right into the headland over the shallow weed covered rocks. after an hour of grovelling and small kine turns I thought the better of it and headed in.

the lot was almost full and scores were suiting up. I said hello to a couple of friends and made my way to the blue flame to take off my wetsuit. as I looked out over the boardwalk I could see a little left reeling off some secret sandbar and crashing right on the dry cobbles. I figured I'd give it a try since it was still only 8 am and damn it looked rideable. stepping out through the impact section reminded me of Spanish House or Wabasso -with a heavy wall coming fast and impacting on the shore. after that though the paddle out was minimal. I picked off the first one and popped up and just pumped and raced down the line as the waist high take off turned into a chest high vertical wall. the quad held like it does and each little pump coaxed more speed out of her. (I should give her a name fitting of her prowess.) finally I kicked out over the closeout before I was deposited on dry cobblestones. a guy watching from the stairs say my first wave, ran back to get his board and sat right on top of me the whole time. "this is beach break" I thought as I tried to push him a little deeper each time knowing that he wouldn't make the drop. didn't hamper too much to have him there and he took a few on the head and eventually went in. after a few more the tide filled in and the left became a closeout. should've been here an hour ago.

Saturday was the warmest day since last September signaling the end of winters grip. I have now completed three years of winter surfing here in NS. my shoulders and back have gained paddle stamina. my wave sense is as good now as it was in 2001 when I lived in Kona and surfed Pine Trees each evening after work. most importantly though my confidence has improved which sometimes can make the difference on a late take off. I'm as stoked on surfing now at 33 as I was when I was 17.

each spring it's become increasingly crowded in the lineup -even on early mornings during the week. it's easily noticeable here because mostly we have points and reefs, waves which tend to have a maximum carrying capacity. I must admit that I underestimated the surfing population before I came. but there has been a core surf community here for a long long time and they especially must be feeling the pressure of the increased crowds.

I was thinking about how to feel about crowded surf since it's been a long time since I've experienced it. there's really two ways to look at it. I can allow myself to get salty and jaded about a bunch of beginners letting go of their boards in the lineup or I can transcend it, focus on the horizon and work on improving my surfing. I learned how to surf in Brevard County on the shores between Cocoa Beach and Melbourne Beach. It wasn't uncommon to be in the water with fifty plus surfers, many who could surf better than I ever will. when crowds are all you know it's not a bother. so as look forward to riding my 9'6" at the reef or my quad at the beach break I have to remind myself that the original heads should get priority and that my outlook on the situation can make my surfing life fulfilling or less than half-empty. as always I got to give thanks for this life of riding swells upon the sea.

now I'm off to work.

had to steal this one from Crooked Arm as it's perfect for today's thoughts.

dawn patrol

Marine Forecast

Winds
Issued 03:00 AM ADT 24 April 2009
Today Tonight and Saturday Strong wind warning in effect.
Wind south 30 knots diminishing to southwest 20 near noon and to west 15 this afternoon. Wind backing to south 15 near noon Saturday.


Waves
Issued 05:00 AM ADT 24 April 2009
Today Tonight and Saturday Seas 3 metres subsiding to 2 early this evening and to 1 Saturday morning.

earth day = humans day

what am I doing for earth day? well I rode my bike to work in the pissing spring rain. please hold your applause. riding my bike to work is not going to "save our planet."

this may get a little ranty so cool your boots.

We’ve been getting duped for a long time with this earth day bullshit. Now everyone is “green” and every company offers a “green” product line. You can pledge monthly tithing’s to save: whales, wolves, hawks, beaches, frogs and trees. Hell you can even pledge to send some poor belly full of worms kid in a developing country to school. You can put their picture on your fridge and smile each time you go for your next beer. But really what it all boils down to is saving our own asses.

Before I get too cynical let I re-direct.

We are animals. Unlike other animals like iguanas in the Galapagos Islands, we do not speciate. This means that we are not limited by geographic location as we can adapt to live in any part of our earth. Like the iguana, we have a habitat which needs a basic level of natural functioning to support the life of the iguana. Any radical changes in the Galapagos sea iguanas’ environment and it will die. This is the same for us. However, because we can adapt so easily, and we can eat and digest just about anything, our habitat is not as easily derailed as say that of a really specialized animals like the marine iguana of the Galapagos.

All I’m saying through the above obvious statement is that we need to be honest with ourselves and with the language we use. We are destroying our own habitats. Some have destroyed theirs so completely that it doesn’t support them any longer and they must rely on aid. Haiti is the perfect example. I won’t waste any virtual ink on the blaming game as to who is responsible for the most damage to our habitat (we all know it’s the developed countries). The bottom line is that if you shit in your cage then you gotta sleep in your shit.

So what is the answer? How do we fix things? According to some it may be too late but perhaps the most powerful thing anyone in a developed country can do to help preserve their “own” habitat is to radically cut down on their total consumption of resources. I will leave it that as I intended this to be more linguistic discussion than an ethical argument about consumerism environmentalism.

Happy Humans Day!

style: danny MacAskill

I spend a lot of time on my ass either behind my desk at work or in the evenings at home after work. but there is one lesson that I learned from years of skateboarding and the same lesson has been re-stamped in my will after the last three years of steady surfing. the only way to achieve anything is to put in the work and to be present and engaged during the process, learning from mistakes and successes. in the last few days I've been more sedentary than usual due to a lack of waves. I ran on the weekend and finally busted out few calisthenics yesterday. however,that is not even enough for maintenance.

luckily I found this newly posted gem. danny macaskill is amazingly fluid. he's like a mix between ryan leech and chase hawk. if your into cycling or human mechanics or will power then you'll appreciate this video. now I'm off to do some stretching.

stick out your chest: the book Chavez gave Obama

and not your ass

OK so some people think that the Hawaiian surf culture can take localism too far. that they use violence too easily. but what else is a people to do? the video below is very interesting and features a member of Da Hui reading an open letter to the people of Tahiti encouraging them to stand up against Billabong and the ASP and demand to be able to take a greater part in the contest both as competitors and organizers.

why? because it is their land, their wave, their culture, their capital interest and their sovereign right. I truly and sincerely hope that the Tahitian's take heed and move to force the ASP to comply.


this brings me to another point. I have often lamented here that the internet has questionable benefits in terms of human and personal relations. but the same way as Da Hui video will influence many so has the photo and story of Venezuela's Hugo Chavez gifting a communist book to America's Barak Obama.



the book is "Open Veins of Latin America: Five Centuries of the Pillage of a Continent." in the book author Eduardo Galeano explores the "various facets of Latin American history according to the patterns of five centuries of exploitation."

exploitation may seem like a harsh word to some North Americans, especially if you are a good law abiding citizen who works an honest wage and takes care of his family. but we need to open our eyes to the vast desert of social and environmental destruction which we are leaving behind in our wake of over consumption.


Chavez is brilliant in this public propaganda stunt. by this simple gesture he will effectively educate thousands of Americans in the way of economic and military exploitation that the US has been so successful at inflicting on Latin America. I hope that the Tahitians too will take back what is rightfully theirs and demand a major share in the earnings of the western companies who are exploiting Tahiti's natural resources.

reggae vibes de pon blogger

for all you lickele reggae vibes fans don forget to check pull up selecta for the best in old and young reggae videos

learnins

go and come

drove 710 miles from Fenway stadium in downtown Boston to our front door in Halifax yesterday. this morning the rising sun shone through my window at 6:30 waking me before the blasted beeping nightmare of an alarm.

I'm glad to be back in Canada where the greater good of the people is valued above that of the individual. thanks Canada for having me.

so I leave you with one of Canada's grandest musical performers

new hampshire beach break

B and I drove for 10 hours yesterday and arrived at our friends house just as the tide was going low. I suited up quickly and grabbed my fish and ran the two blocks to the beach. I had not surfed a beach break since New York last fall. the waves were small and a little weak but two or three turned out to be fun. I'm not one to complain about rideable surf. it was fun to be in slightly warmer water and to surf with no leash without fearing the rocky shores like back home.

I walked down this morning at sunrise hoping that there may still be a small pulse left. no luck. but I did find this nice video clip for ya. not sure what the soundtrack is but it sounds like Orange 9mm.


Fresh Fruit for Rotten Vegetables from Surf Craft Media on Vimeo.

first light sessions

12' @ 12 seconds
high tide
water temp 35
southwest wind
southwest swell
found shelter
but a bit drifty
did the walk back up the point a dozen times
rode a 5'11" twin for the first time
on my backhand
goooood times
in the water at 6:15
back to the car at 8:30
early bird scores
every time
seen

hey -if yer reading this and you live here then you should give 'er

three days

Rain is softly pattering outside as the low moves over the mainland. I sit at my desk, organizing my thoughts for the days toil. But I keep slipping back to feelings of paddling through ocean swells. I surfed three days straight. The first day in stormy overhead peaky surf, the fog so thick that the usual indicators were hidden on shore, forcing me to sit closer to the boils on the takeoff zone than I’m comfortable doing. A few late drops combined with several beatings made for some good cleansing after a weeks work. As the fog lifted in the early afternoon it let the onshore winds in like opening the flood gates, killing any hopes for those that waited.

On Sunday I rose an hour before my alarm was set. I was on the road by six, trying to make it to the lookout spot by first light at six seventeen. The fog still present but not dense enough to ward off the southwest winds, I coasted down the hill and up the coast looking for shelter and size. Nothing. Finally, I drove back to where I should have started and found an inside section perfectly sheltered and peeling. Mostly chest high with a few head high sets, I shared the drifty peaks with a small crew as they rinsed the previous night’s revelries by immersing themselves in the still icy cold Atlantic.

Yesterday the receding swell granted me another small window of opportunity. This time the waist high waves came scant, but clean and perfect as they wrapped into the bay. Just two friends and I shared the little jewel. Off in the distance we would see the plumes of breaking waves over a shallow reef. In the bay the wind was calm and the sky overcast. The grey light making it so that the steely colour of sea surface and grey clouds blended, camouflaging the tiny pulses until they hit the cobblestone bottom and stood for a second before crumbling into mellow shoulders. I surfed for over two hours, mostly on the eggy thruster which at 5’10” and foiled makes me feel like I can turn like never before.

On the bus ride to work this morning I stood and held on to the railing and the bus bobbed up and down on soft air shocks over the winter’s rain filled potholes. I could feel the muscles on my back and shoulders repairing after so much paddling. I look around the bus and wonder how many of my fellow passengers communed with the elements. I sincerely hope that the number is higher than my cynicism will allow me to guess at. I don’t feel disdain or pity for them if they are sedentary. I only wonder why? Why would we live in these amazingly tuned and functioning bodies and not learn to use them to move through space with the grace of birds and fish? And why did I leave my bike at work forcing me to take this blasted bus.

picaresque trailer 2009

this is the only film that I've been really excited to see. DeTemple is stylish. D$ has surfed with him in overhead Southbeach mackers and seen Mickey pull into tubes like the A in Manhattan. and for those of you who think that riding lonboards is for pussys -let's meet at the point on heavy single fin logs on a head high day and see what a gwaan.

seen.


Picaresque Trailer 2009 from High Seas Films on Vimeo.

two growllers

propeller IPA growler -best beer in town

and the growlers her command accoustic version

un-skunked

well after a hella sprint home on the mighty Cross Check after work yesterday I loaded up the blue flame still breathless and tried to beat rush hour traffic and the fading swell. I surfed for a couple of hours with some local heavies. even though the waves had dropped a bit and the peaks were shifty everyone seemed genuinely happy to be surfing on a Tuesday evening. local shredder Nico was out makin it look easy as usual blastin 360 grabs way up above the lip. other certain individuals were pickin off mackers from outside on quad fishes and snappin turns under offshore groomed lips. I got a few little ones on the 5'10" Stamps skillet which by the way is about as fun as a case of beer on a Wednesday night with an empty belly and a get out of work for a day pass. got home to turkey dinner with B and E and the in laws, enjoyed a couple of fine bottles of Keith's finest, and went to bed at 10. all in a days surf eh.

the latest issue of SBC Surf is out and this time it's packed with content. quite a few travel stories including gnar backpacking back country surf adventures. there's also some loggin photos from local lumberjack and Californios. I was able to somehow squeeze two little pieces in there. they are at the newsstands now so whateryawaitinfor?