strange commonalities

what do horror, fitness, and glen danzig have in common?

trim

I love thinking about board design. there is so much that goes into the planning aspects of a surfboard. however I’m also certain that the most important aspect of any board’s performance is the ability and fitness of the person riding it. but then that’s another post.

recently I’ve been riding my noserider a lot, partly out of necessity as my new EPS fish is in the works and partly because I want to. the longboard experience is completely different than riding a shortboard and it requires a less physical and more refined approach.

on the log trim is king. and trim happens due to the rail length and shape of the board's rail. on a speedy steep face the board will move super fast without my input whereas on a shortboard I’d need to generate my own speed. turning a log is also completely different from a shortboard. on a shortboard turn you slide your rear foot over the fins and transition your weight so that the wave facing edge is buried into the face of the wave as it changes direction. turning a shortboard is a very physical thing whereas the longboard is about fineness.

my 9’6” has one fin and is quite heavy. there is absolutely no way to turn the board with a wide shortboard stance while burying the rail. well I suppose some big heavy cats could do that but it’s not necessary. instead I simply step back to the tail, and with feet less than shoulder width apart, I weigh down the back of the board and pivot the front end around bringing the rail down back onto the face to engage trim again. once the board is in trim in the pocket I can walk up to the nose as the water from the lip sucks over the egg shaped rails holding the tail in the face.

Dora, style king.

the longboard seems to be marketed as a beginner board quite often. and while it is much easier to catch a wave on a longboard due to its large planning area and volume, it doesn’t really prepare the beginner to surf a shortboard. that is often a misconception that can be clearly seen in the lineup. aspiring shortboarders catch a shoulder high wave on their 9’0” “performance” longboard and with a wide as Texas stance try fruitlessly to turn nine feet of rail like a shortboard and end up either getting hit by the lip or falling over like deadwood in a forest. some like to call this stance the stink butt stance – sorta gives a squatty image eh. now we just need some swell so I can stop thinking about it and just go surf.

Boricua

not really but this shit is funny

Mad Clips - Travis Ajay as "Manuel" from josh coville on Vimeo.

weak heart

my friend Evil E was going through some old photos and found these of me -I think they are from fall/winter of 2007. the board was a Tom Neilson 6'6" biofoam thruster. I got rid of it soon after that as it was a bit too big for me.

I'd like to think I've improved my surfing since these shots were taken but who knows.

self critique: the bottom turn mid-face and standing almost straight up is weak hearted at best. I also won't have any speed going into the top turn. it's funny though I have the Andy Downs front hand stylee. I'll have to tell that story another time though.



the same weak heart goes for the top turn here. it looks as if I backed off instead of really pushing off the top.



this is my favourite shot because you can see how beautiful it is here. sure the water at this time of year is O C. and the air often way bellow that. but the beauty of the landscapes and the generous people are like no where else I've ever lived. thanks Evil!

Monday morning board meeting

5am wave and weather check:

7.2' @ 10 seconds
west wind 7 knots
air temp 16C
water temp 16C

first light 6:22 am

will report actual conditions after 10am

9:18am update:

score

offshores, golden light at sunrise, overhead sets and warm water. as good as it gets.

Open Letter to America: on sloth and gluttony

Dear fellow Americans,

I am writing in the hopes that my words will perhaps trigger a slight sense of self preservation within your psyche as well as release within you the once famous American pragmatism that created the nation. You must be aware that there are two major issues plaguing our long term well being; two issues that are really quite embarrassing when you think about it and yet not so inordinate in many a literary tale about human failure. I am talking about gluttony and sloth.

First of all I'll address the current state of the educational system. We are failing our youth with the current educational system, and for those who finish high school and choose to pursue a higher education the price to pay is more often than not grotesque. Now I am not a specialist in education nor do I have an answer as to how to fix the problem (I'm sure there are plenty of people who could do that). However, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that an undereducated population will not be economically successful. And at this time in our great country people are our greatest assets. So if you think a little ahead you may note that there may be a looming disaster in the making.

The other issue which is obvious to any foreigner landing on our great shores for the first time is the state of our health. Our gluttony and sloth has created a ticking time bomb of ill health. Some studies state that over 64% of the population is over weight or obese. Don’t get me wrong here; I am not talking about matters of self image or narcissism. I am referring to the basic need for a living organism to maintain a balanced health system in order to function properly and avoid disease. This is not some esoteric idea. What we consume defines our makeup, just as we are defined by how we spend our time. If we spend our time sitting then our bodies are not able to run. Simple. If we consume unhealthy foods and too much of them then our bodies will be unhealthy and big.

This is really not a matter of ethics or religion or even politics. It is a matter of economics and self preservation. Imagine if you will 20 years from now –70% of the population suffering from preventable diseases like diabetes and heart disease because they wouldn’t eat healthy. Imagine an entire nation of under educated people, to unhealthy to be productive in the labor force and too illiterate to be productive in technology and finance. What would such a nation look like? How will the books balance? Who will take care of you?

I merely pose the problem. It is up to all to individually and collectively tackle the issues. Sure government can create policies, etc. But ultimately each individual has the major stake in their own well being. What will you do?

Sincerely

Ricardo

nervousness

is like butterflies fluttering
like erratic,
victory at sea surf
like something in my throat
like an old foe,
whom I never defeat
is like weight pushing
down on my arms and shoulders
like a swell passing through my chest,
in waves of heat and cold
like a trigger to end my focus
a distraction that lasts
hours, days, months
then it fades and things
are normal
I forget it
until it's triumphant return
and I'm reminded of it
again in my throat
my gut
my shoulders
and the back of my knees
it is like an uncertainty
like hunger
like a post youth -
existential hangover
it is anarchist
and sly
faceless and with no scruples
it is effervescent yet invisible
it is always there
beneath the surface
like a razor sharp reef
ready to cut
when you least expect

cholos + heavy metal

high school flashbacks ese

we care a lot

just struck me that things are unstuck
men eat men
figuratively
literally
fires burn as
in Gabon and
California
people never come first
in America where
no one wants health services
for ALL

what are you fucking kidding me?

stuff
I need stuff
we need stuff
and in Mexico
drug gangs kill 17
in the rehab
die
or die
the sun shines
one way or another
no wonder
Cormack McCarthy
refuses to interview
don’t matter one way
or the other
things are unstuck

this is a value added post

seaweed, logs and boulders

after Dan passed through on Saturday we were left with some swell and a stormy sea. I paddled out yesterday to a semi-undisclosed spot. a long walk and you can see them peeling down towards you. I took out the 'ol yeller single fin. I could have made a better choice as the 9'6" is best suited for under chest high clean mellow waves. but in the end it handled the bigger waves beautifully. there's no feeling like standing on the tip of your board in the lip of a fast moving head high wave. I took a few beatings but it was all well worth it. the boys in the lineup were having a blast too as it's been a while since we'd had some fun waves.

it seems like a long time since I scored sunrise surf before work. but I got out of bed at five this morning and did a few chores as I waited for the kettle. I made coffee and checked the buoy. the swell seemed to be holding and the period had bumped up a bit so I decided to take my 6'1" thruster out for a change even though it would be dead high tide.

the sun hadn't come up yet when I paddle out so it was hard to see what the action was. this particular spot always provides its bounty with today's conditions. mostly there are rights -fast and steep and once inna while if the swell is just right they'll barrel. today they were backing off a little, I reckon due to too much water. but I did manage to snag a few deadly ones and a bunch of mellow ones too.

after two hours I looked at my watch and realized that I'd run out of time so I belly boarded one in quite a ways down the point and crawled out over the slippery rocks. I started jogging down the point, trying hard to land each step on the bigger smooth faced rocks so as not to bruise my soles. about 10 yards from the exit I landed with me left foot on a slippery ass wide piece of seaweed and I went down. I smashed my left knee and shin pretty bad. dammit! I checked my board for damage. once nasty little ding on the rail that I'll have to fix. maybe running over seaweed covered boulders with a six foot something under arm isn't the best idea eh.

I hear a lot of people say that we have world class waves here. and I'm sure I've said it too. it's true, there are days when if the swell and wind cooperate the points light up with perfectly shaped waves for 200 yards. on those days it is world class. but really the only people that enjoy those days are the ones who live here, and dedicate their lives to surfing every swell in hopes that on that one day it will be world class. but mostly it's not world class, the tide too high, the swell too weak, the wind all wrong. it is the fickle east coast after all. but don't misunderstand me. I am not at all complaining. in fact I couldn't be happier.

style: Tyler Warren

Churches from Charlie Waite on Vimeo.

RIP axolotl

another one gone. our turn will come too.

login

pre-storm swell this mornin with good friends, foggy and the biggest seal I've seen waiting just out side the peak for somethin

billy oh billy

for those who've not had the chance to surf in the Pacific -Mexico, Central America, Hawaii, etc., the power of a long wave period is something that we east coasters are only slightly familiar with.

16 second period waves have a lot more power than our usual 10 to 12 second swells. a head high wave at 10 seconds is not like a head high wave at 16. perhaps tomorrow we will get a taste of what a thundering long period swell feels like. get out your you pintails and ditch the comp leashes. billy is comin to town.

EDIT:

just realized that I've caught myself in the hurricane hype. dammit.

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.