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.