Bagus Surf

Surf Brain

Well.. I have had surfing on the brain quite a bit the past couple of days which makes working a bit difficult. As hard as I try to configure my schedule so I have water time, it looks like my 7:30 a.m. meeting tomorow is going to put a crimp in my day.. although if I get in the water by 5:45 a.m. and out by 6:50 a.m. I could be dressed and to the meeting by 7:30.. hmm might be cutting it a bit short. Yesterday was a magical day.. Swabbieland was awesome, but the day didn't end there. I met up with my buddy from work Mark (happy 40th b-day!) and we went to a little spot right by Point Panic. Not a usual spot for long peeling lefts and rights, but the swell, tide and wind was just right. It was another opportunity for me to surf a spot for the first time. Super fun peeling waves that broke right up on a huge rock wall where the park sits. I dropped in on my 8' Munoz which was the board of choice yesterday into a couple tasty fast peeling rights and lefts that sort of pitched up and semi-barreled inside where the white water was gurgling along the rocks. Each time I tucked into a wall of water and looked into the light at the end of the tunnel, I would be drawn to the pounding water along the rocks. My reaction each time was to chicken out and jump through the back of the wave. sheesh.. someday I'll get the confidence to tuck and ride it out.

This morning I woke up early to the stillness that means glassy conditions at DH. Headed out early to meet up with Fanny and what looked like not so fun conditions, turned out to be a blast. Rode the 8'6" Miller and just ripped it up on some fun A-frames pushing through on the outgoing tide. No complaints and my face is aching from smiling so much. Did have a couple fun launches off the lip as I either waited too far inside or got dropped in on by a couple wahines. No worries... plenty of aloha in the water.. why not? Plenty of surf to go around. Hope you got some!

Swabbie Land!

What can I say... four hours of surf this morning with Mr. Lee out by Barber's point. It was awesome. Slight cross breeze with headhigh sets rolling through once in a while. Took out the Munoz and had a blast catching long rights that seemed to peel forever. The longboarder were ruling the outside leaving the middle and inside sections to us of the shorter persuasion. It was fun to pump up and down the waves feeling the energy pulsing through from New Zealand. My arms are spent, but the smile is still glowing on my face. Aloha

ahhhh

Finally got in the water this morning at DH after a week out due to a hectic work schedule. I did manage to get a couple fun little rides in between the wobbles our there. Took out the 8'6" Miller. Nothing special, but when you have been dry for a week, just being in the water felt great. I am getting psyched for the swell to arrive tomorrow. Mondy morning is a surf session for sure.

Education of Matt Ratt - SURF Magazine

Education of Matt Ratt - SURF Magazine

Upon first encounter, the kid seemed fairly green. Not because he’d been wrenching his guts out for hours over the gunwale of his water taxi since departing Padang, but more for the way he talked and carried himself those first days navigating a small covey of lesser-traveled islands in the Indian Ocean.

Climbing the five-step ladder from the vessel’s stern deck to the mid-level cabin, the wiry, five-foot-seven nineteen year old extended his right hand and introduced himself as "Matt."

"But everyone calls me Matt Ratt," he added.

"You guys are late," someone jokingly heckled from within the cabin.

"No worries. You’re just in time, Ratt," interjected a thick, rugby-framed man in cordial South African diction as he descended the slim, wooden ladder from the wheelhouse.

"Heard you had some dramas? … Nice to meet you, I’m Jock–the ship’s captain," the man said proudly before reaching out his large, callous-riddled paw to greet his latest guest arrivals. "Glad you and Dan (Malloy) finally made it. We can now get underway and out of this area–too many boats in these waters right now. Dinner’s going to be ready shortly. See you guys in the a.m., got to rest up for the journey tonight."

"F–k, I could use somethin’ to eat," admitted Matt "Ratt" Schrodetz in a nasally, Spicolian California-surfer-dude accent. Holding his stomach, he sat down and surveyed the new digs with a semi-despondent look upon his face. "So seasick. Stoked to finally be here," he said with a forced smile. "Such an eggy ride. Just f–kin’ pukin’ the whole way. Even got sick on the plane, too."

Matt Ratt immediately recognized a few faces from mags and videos–like David "Rasta" Rastovich and Oscar "Ozzie" Wright–but the names Tyler Hatzikian and Mike Stewart didn’t register. Similarly, no one had ever heard of the white-haired Santa Cruzian except for the trip’s ring leader, Thomas Campbell–the filmmaker who rallied this rather well-balanced contingent of wave riders aboard the Indies Trader II for his upcoming 16mm film project, Sprout.

Eleventh-hour cancellations by other invitees forced Campbell to make a last second roster change, filling the slot with a wildcard. But Matt Ratt nearly failed to show, too, after being defeated by inexperience at Mineta San Jose Airport’s ticket counter when he was told that his connecting airline in Los Angeles wouldn’t allow him more than two boards. Holding a bag full of four, he turned about-face and went home to call Campbell for a refund. After a lengthy pep talk, Matt Ratt drove down to LAX and hopped a flight with fellow late-arrival Dan Malloy.

Following the obligatory exchange of pleasantries, Matt Ratt was led over to his accommodations: a well-worn wicker couch in the common area. Showing a few days late meant he was out on calling dibs for any of the swanky, private bunks down below. It worked out for the best, as he had a tendency to get pukey and the captain asked that all upchuckers do so over the side–not in the downstairs "loos." Now he’d only be a few steps from the rail.

Back down on the lower deck, the other new arrival, Dan Malloy, was cracking open a freakishly long and wide cardboard box. The ruckus piqued Rasta’s interest, and he closed in for a better vantage. When Dan had unveiled the contents, Rasta’s eyes widened as he recognized the significance of both objects. Grabbing one of the two candy-colored, vintage-style, single-fin mini-guns shaped by Gerry Lopez, he gave it closer inspection.

"What are those all about?" Matt Ratt asked before attempting to answer his own question. "Those are, like, for big waves, huh?"

Rubbing his hands over the shiny, polished gloss coat of the red seven-two, Rasta eyeballed the rocker and rail line. "This kind of board was used by Gerry (Lopez) and some of the boys in the early to mid 70s in Hawai‘i, as well as when they were pioneering waves in this part of the world," he explained matter-of-factly.

"They gonna work?" Matt Ratt queried.

"I’m sure they will, grommet," Rasta confirmed. "We’re heading to a place where they should go beautifully."

The wave that Rasta spoke of gained notoriety in the mid 90s when Sonny Miller documented Tom Curren taming freight-train-sized caverns on a micro tri-fin fish. Dan shared Rasta’s enthusiasm, and they traded thoughts about how incredibly these boards should perform at the aforementioned break.

With a blank look on his face, Matt Ratt tried to understand the reason for the fuss over such antiquated equipment. He was admittedly "over" anything retro or longboard-related, a sentiment shared among many surfers–especially those from the über-core lineups of his Santa Cruz home. Matt Ratt only cared to ride contemporary thrusters, and why wouldn’t he? He was raised on spoon-fed messages from the media that surfing is "progressive" and performance-driven. Thus, in conforming to that commonly held belief of what surfing really is, one must bow down to the bedrock paradigm of riding an ultra-light 6’ 2" tri-fin in almost all conditions.

As the tropical twilight sky faded into flickering pinheads of light, Dan carried the discussion over to dinner. It was hard to not get sucked into the tail draft of his enthusiasm as he retold the story of what it was like to meet Gerry for the first time when picking up the boards at his Bend, Oregon factory. He then elaborated on the reason behind his tardiness (finishing up a sponsorship change) and how he narrowly made his flight from LAX. "That’s why I got away without paying excess baggage fees," he laughed. Changing subjects, Dan asked for a quick rundown on what kind of surf he had missed the previous two days.

Since Dan and Matt Ratt were lagging behind, the boat had been on a holding pattern in the Mentawais. So it was there in the "Playgrounds" area on the first session of the trip that Rasta puffed up and rode the craft he was most amped about–inflatable rubber surf mats. He was influenced to try one after seeing American ex-pat and now Byron Bay’s eccentric slider George Greenough, regularly flying down Northern New South Wales’ long points on one. After being befriended by Bob McTavish and Nat Young while visiting Oz in the mid 1960s, Greenough’s mat surfing, high-performance kneeboarding (on his ultra-flexible "spoon" board), and innovative fin designs directly influenced the shortboard revolution by inspiring McTavish to make surfboards that could drive and turn like a kneeboard.

Rasta has recently adopted mat-surfing to the "ride everything" philosophy he’s pursued wholeheartedly since dropping out of the competition scene years ago. He reckoned a mat rounded out his daily options perfectly. "A quiver isn’t having ten six-ones, so in case you break a few you have eight spare," waxes Rastovich. "For me, it’s having everything from a paddleboard to a longboard, four-fin to thruster, single-fin to twin-fin, or a mat. It’s a great concept because it ensures I’ll have as much fun as possible for the given conditions." No one was surprised when he showed up with two bags containing nine boards (and two mats), many of which were made of alternative, more-bio-friendly materials.

Mike Stewart, perhaps the world’s best prone surfer ever, inflated Rasta’s other mat with a few hearty puffs to join him. The nine-time bodyboarding champion and eight-time Pipeline bodysurfing champ, who hangs his hat among history’s most respected watermen, had no trouble adjusting to the awkwardness of his new ride.

Ozzie, one of Australia’s most creative and acrobatic freesurfers, was in turn inspired to pull out one of his "Batmoboards"–a recent phase of painting his boards like the "Batmobile" or other various Batman imagery. His art doodles and avant-garde sense of style brought a refreshing vibe to the amalgam of characters, and if anyone there was going to push surfing’s above-the-rim limits, he’d be sure to deliver.

Tyler joined in with his 50/50-railed, ten-ounce-glassed, nine-eight single-fin log. A throwback hailing from El Segundo, in L.A.’s South Bay, Tyler is known for his traditional loggin’ style, David Nu‘uhiwa-like skills on the nose, and Butch Van Artsdalen hell-on-wheels approach in heavy surf. Those in the know rank him as one of today’s most skilled surfer/shapers.

Although Dan and Matt Ratt missed those first two days, Campbell’s desired effect for bringing this eclectic group of surfers together was already demonstrated during that first session. From Ozzie’s high-speed, quick-snap direction changes to Rasta and Mike’s low-flying air-biscuit rides and Tyler’s traditional trim-line form, it was a beautiful showcase of wave-riding diversity. During the days to come, there was heavy cross-pollination of ideas and techniques on how to best enjoy what the ocean had to offer. Boards were swapped often, and new ones kept rotating into the mélange. Sometimes they were just ditched altogether for something more pure–bodysurfing. It was during one such session that Mike put on an impressive display of rarely seen maneuvers that left all present slack-jawed.

"I knew he (Mike) was the best bodyboarder in the world, but I didn’t know he could do bodysurfing cutbacks," Ozzie chuckled while recalling that moment over a frosty Bintang. "He came flying toward me, looked me in the eyes, and just went, ‘Huhhhh!’ (making a turning motion with his hand) … Threw spray all in my face."

With the dinner table cleared, and Dan and Matt finally settled in, the twin diesel Cummings engines lit up, the anchor was pulled, and the wafting exhaust fumes were soon dragging far behind. With ten boats tripping over one another in the Mentawai chain that week, there was little doubt that bailing that scene was the right call.

While assimilating to the rhythm of the ocean once again, someone yanked off one of the cardboard sides from the Gerry board box and threw it in the middle of the lounge area for an impromptu art barge. Rasta and Ozzie broke out their respective quivers of paint pens, and all joined in for what would morph into an acid-trip collage. During such gatherings every evening, roundtable discussions invariably broke out–ranging from art to board design or just goofing on world culture and politics. And because of present personalities, esoteric discourse on riding waves was a given.

The following day, after several torturous days of transit and countless hours spent tasting his bile, Matt Ratt finally got a reprieve when the ship arrived at a new chain of nameless, desolate isles. With barely any swell running, a handful of single-fin logs were piled into the aluminum dinghy to scope out a nearby prospect. Matt Ratt hopped in with his standard shorty, and Ozzie a full-dimensioned quad.

Pulling around the inside of the break to get a better look, a nearly shoulder-high set stacked neatly out the back. Each wave rolled flawlessly down a coral point straight as a carpenter’s snap line, then spilled ever so gently into a small, uninhabited bay.

The first to leap into the opulent blue water was Matt Ratt. His pale, perpetually seasick look was flushed once reconnecting with the ocean. While he struggled to maneuver on the small waves, Dan, Tyler, and Rasta zipped along with ease, putting on a world-class log-riding clinic for the next two hours.

Where Matt Ratt resides in California, longboards are seen as "a sign that you can’t surf." But for the first time in his life he had to admit that riding one in surf like that made sense, especially after what he had just observed.

"This is pretty amazing," Matt Ratt said enthusiastically, but still not totally convinced to try one himself. "I didn’t know anyone could ride those boards like that."

For having only been on a log once or twice before, Ozzie appeared quite switched on after exchanging boards with Dan and getting his first awkward ride out of the way. "I can barely even paddle one, it’s a different sort of balance," he laughed while straddling the red ten-footer that Tyler had shaped and glassed himself. "But it’s wicked seeing all this noseriding. It looks like magic–going super fast and levitating on the nose at the same speed as the wave."

Fishing, egging, bodyboarding, longboarding, mat-riding, bodysurfing–what was happening? Matt Ratt was tripping hard on the freaky surfing he saw and had been told about the day prior. Without knowing it yet, he was witnessing a playful, uncontrived example of how the many juxtapositions within equipment choices can all be embraced and seen as functional.

Just before everyone crashed out that night, Rasta warned all to not be alarmed the next morning: "On Tuesdays, I don’t speak or eat for the entire day."

"No way. You can’t do that," Matt Ratt defied Rasta with a look of disbelief. "It’s, like, not healthy for you to not eat."

"How so, grommet? Fasting is a perfectly good way to rid your body of toxins. Many cultures have done so for thousands of years," Rasta assured him.

"I don’t know about that. But then why no talking, too?"

"It’s just a discipline thing. I don’t think it’s necessary to be talking all the time. It takes a lot of energy to be continuously expressing your thoughts throughout the day. I just think it’s healthy to give the body a day of rest from speaking and digesting."

After some more back and forth on the subject, Matt Ratt had a stunned look across his face–no doubt from meeting someone who had such a completely foreign lifestyle compared to his. It was a moment that further demonstrated how small his view on the world had been when considering that his hometown of Santa Cruz is rife with all sorts of healthy lifestyles similar to Rasta’s.

At confusing or uneasy times like that, Matt Ratt would fall back into his heavy dudism speech pattern. Ozzie and Rasta of course would then have a bit of fun with him by doing their own satirical take on whatever the topic of discussion was, using spot-on "Seppo" accents.

As always, Rasta was up first and doing his two hours of breathing exercises and yoga on the bow. However, that morning he skipped breakfast, spoke to no one and only gave affirmative or negative head nods if asked something. It was hard not to laugh at first, but soon everyone adjusted.

With the longboard spot looking onshore early and the captain getting word the swell was up considerably on the other side of the island, Jock pulled stakes and shoved off.

There was swell. Good swell. Buzzing past miles of straight coastline with closeout breaks and no defined points in sight, the captain made a starboard turn to head in closer. Rolling up to a presumably shitty wave, he suggested someone paddle in for a look. There were three takers: Dan, Matt Ratt, and Ozzie. Returning an hour later, Dan was super jazzed, boasting that he’d just surfed Indo’s version of Lower Trestles.

"You can do whatever you want on it," Dan explained. "I’ve been looking for a wave like this in Indo for years. It’s a hybrid of perfect Lowers and Pupukea without the lump."

Rasta, Tyler, and Mike caught up with Matt Ratt and Ozzie to play in the skateboard-park-like break that offered everything from hand-dragging barrels and roundhouses to fin-hucking lipslides.

Making a run the following morning for the next group of islands, a fast-moving front with vicious wind and rain hit the Trader II hard, forcing a retreat into a protected bay. Matt Ratt learned a good lesson about sharing tight quarters. One evening, he was sitting closest to the sliding door, which someone had left open. Rasta asked him to close it to keep mozzies out. In an act of defiance, Matt Ratt told Rasta to do it himself. Not too long after that incident Rasta returned the serve at dinner:

"Hey Rasta, can you please pass the bread?" asked Matt Ratt.

"Well, I don’t know. Maybe you should walk around the table and get it yourself?" Rasta answered. Following a lengthy and awkward silence, Rasta passed it over to him just before Matt Ratt was about to get up. "Matt Ratt, no one is trying to order you around. We’re on a boat, and we’re all in this thing together. So why not help out one another?"

Looking stunned as a result of Rasta’s brazen honesty, he nodded and smiled. The point was well taken, because from that evening onward Matt Ratt became noticeably more considerate. Whenever he was at the fridge for a drink, he’d ask if anyone else needed something while he was up. The self-centered layers that he was covered in were slowly peeling off.

The clouds finally broke, and after humping it across a huge channel crossing, the hypnotic sounds of diesel-engine hums and the ocean being sliced across the bow slowed to a noticeably quieter, smoother idle just after sunrise. Ambling right up to an empty break, the drop-anchor signal was given.

"A left. … finally," rejoiced Tyler, the quietest of the bunch, and one of the three goofy-foots who had been patiently waiting their turn to face the waves. "I’m ready to see some airs. Bring on the Ozzie and Matt Ratt show."

For the next several days they sat on the empty Macaroni’s-like left without seeing another person aside from a local fisherman who tried to sell them the break’s headland for two-grand.

"It’s an insane wave, but it’s too perfect to do airs," explained Matt Ratt of his frustrations with completing boosts on a regular basis. And despite severe tongue-lashings from all, he resorted to strapping on his three-mil winter booties. "I don’t know how to do airs without them," he smiled.

Ozzie did, however, agree with Matt Ratt about the conditions. While he had ducked into many a tunnel and worked on polishing up his open-face carves, Ozzie said he was having trouble getting fired-up to launch. "When it’s perfect or I’m just tired, it’s hard to feel inspired to do airs," he explained. "We’re in perfection, and it just makes me want to get barreled or do some turns. It’s an emotional thing. Airs are better for shit-house, wind-blown closeout beachies. The onshore makes the lip crumble down into better launch pads, and the wind is at your back to help you land in the transition instead of being pushed out the back."

They both said it out loud, and it came–light onshore winds. A strange request in paradise, but an imperative element for proper clearance and landing. But as far as Ozzie was concerned, there was still a crucial missing ingredient.

Pulling a rashguard and Peruvian animal-like mask from his packsack, he grabbed two plastic trash bags, a pair of scissors, some tie-downs, and whipped out an impromptu outfit for the occasion. Throwing it on before jumping out off the bow of the dinghy, he flapped his new bat wings, smiled eerily, and said with a sinister laugh afterward, "Batsuits are good for getting psyched!"

Like a superhero, Ozzie flipped from a mild-mannered tuberider to a high-flying bat. Tapping into the excitement of seeing Ozzie successfully fly higher with each ride, Matt Ratt finally found his rhythm and started landing his airs. Tyler even traded his log in for a five-ten twin-keel-fin fish and proceeded to soar.

"Ozzie’s surfing today was really inspiring," Matt Ratt said while mowing his dinner. "But I have to say I was just as impressed with Tyler. I mean, the guy was getting barrels and noserides all day on his longboard, then paddles out on a fish and starts busting big airs and gouges." Pausing for a moment and reflecting on what he’d seen already in just a few days, he continued, "Most kids my age would say this isn’t the ‘dream team’ boat trip. Some might even think it’s kind of lame. For me this has been one of the best things I’ve experienced in my life. I like how everyone’s just feeding off each other’s energy–no matter what board we’re on."

His revelations were unexpected, but some of the crew later said that they were encouraged to see what looked like the beginning of a metamorphosis for a kid who only several days prior had displayed an incredibly narrow vision of surfing.

Two hours before daybreak, the engines were laboring again, and the interval and swell height had noticeably expanded. It was a Tuesday, and it marked the last full day of surf for the crew before having to head home. Everyone had high hopes of one last epic session.

Arriving at another left, it appeared that it was going to serve up the best barrels yet. Double-overhead-plus lines were bending and running for several hundred yards, but just minutes after paddling out, a devil wind blew in and crushed it.

"Too bad it didn’t last longer. That was the biggest surf I’ve ever been in," Matt Ratt said proudly with a grin.

"Hey Jock, how far are we from that right? The one for the Gerry boards?" Dan asked.

"Not far, maybe a half hour," he answered. "But the wind is probably all over it, and we have over twenty hours of motoring to do to make it back to port. It might be a good idea to get a head start on it now to arrive there on time."

"Do you mind just taking a look, anyhow. Just to see if it’s any good?" Dan queried.

"Sure, why not. It’s not too far out of the way."

Running at top speed and rounding the corner of a small coconut-rimmed island, rolling mountains of whitewater were visible on the horizon. Closing the distance, the wave’s shape became more discernable.

"There it is! This is the wave. It’s on," Dan said before bolting for his gear.

With no one in the water to judge its size, solid triple-overhead was a safe assessment. Blue bombs wedged up on the outside like a West Peak set at Sunset Beach. Mushing out into a giant rolling foam wall, they hit an ungodly inside section and reformed into square death pits ample enough to drive a bus through.

"F–k, did you see that?" Matt Ratt said, not knowing whether to be stoked or to check his shorts. "I’m sitting this one out. You guys go ahead, I’ll watch from here. I’m under-gunned anyway." He laughed at the convenience of his excuse.

Dan and Rasta had both played around some on the Gerry boards throughout the trip, but this was the real test. All the elements they had been waiting for came together.

Spinning on an absurdly large wave, Dan got in early, leaned into his rail, angled, entered, and exited the first barrel cleanly, redirecting a smooth arcing turn to an elongated bottom turn. With little effort, the board glided into what looked like a massive closeout. Dan disappeared momentarily before being grossly belched into the channel.

Like loading a bow, Rasta dropped straight to the bottom then tucked his body low to the board. Releasing the tension, he shot out of the bottom turn into a meaty, stand-up bowl. Rocketing out onto the shoulder he brought his knees close to his chest and cut back toward the bottom corner of the whitewater, springing yet again off the bottom. Holding his rail line high and steady, he entered another chamber as tall as it was wide.

"This is f–king unbelievable!" Rasta screamed exuberantly at the top of his lungs after exiting cleanly.

"Thought you couldn’t talk today?" Dan asked.

"Can’t be too rigid in life. Sometimes you just got to make exceptions," he smiled.

For the next five hours the two exchanged one phenomenal ride for the next. For Dan, being on that single-fin was like a time warp: "This could be like the early 70s right now. We’re living it and not having to see it in an old mag or film."

"To me these boards aren’t about some ‘retro’ thing. It’s just simple but potent, powerful surfing," Rasta said assessing the board’s utility. "It’s like having a direct line to God or something. As soon as you take off, it instantly locks into the power of the wave and trims out. There’s very little input from me."

Sitting on the sidelines for long enough, Tyler, Mike, and Ozzie entered the water just before a shift in the ocean’s energy took place. The waves got slightly bigger, the barrels more square, and the water glassed off. Matt Ratt elected to still stay behind and watch from the bow, feeling satisfied with his nearly triple-overhead screamer at the left that morning.

From Matt Ratt’s perspective, he could see Dan stuffing himself into what looked like the cavern of the day and then vanishing from sight. Driving through the giant tunnel, he unexpectedly caught an edge. Landing on his belly into perfect bodysurfing trim, he rode the foamball momentarily before getting swallowed.

"Ahhhh! You can’t fall on those!" Dan screamed after surfacing, cursing himself for not making it.

Within minutes he had his shot for redemption. Setting his edge more strategically this time higher under an even bigger curtain, his board began to slowly drift down the face again. Determined, he held the line and was ejected from an enormous, sloppy, white mess. It was a fitting end to the day, because the following set kicked everyone’s ass nearly back to shore.

Matt Ratt watched the sun kiss the horizon off the stern that evening. Staring toward the fading hues of yellow and orange, his mind was presumably adrift from its moorings and flashing on everything he’d experienced. He later joined everyone at the dining table for a celebratory round of Bintangs.

He didn’t carry himself like the same kid that had come aboard over a week prior. Matt Ratt looked more at ease, less judgmental, and confident with just being himself, which explains why he was comfortable enough to openly share how impactful the journey had been for him: "Even if we had ended up getting no surf at all, this trip was worth every penny I spent. Before I came here, I took surfing for granted. But I know that when I get home, I won’t be chapped like I used to because there’s no surf or it’s too small. Even though some people are going to laugh at me, I don’t care–I’m going to order a longboard and a fish. Because when it’s right for those kind of boards, I’ll be out there instead of just complaining that it sucks."

Although it wasn’t on his list of things to accomplish while in Indo, Matt Ratt said he had unexpectedly become a changed man who would leave empowered with a newfound perspective on riding waves. And while Matt Ratt learned something valuable from each of his shipmates, he was ironically most influenced by someone who stands at the opposite end of the surfing spectrum from which he was bred.

"Rasta probably opened my mind up the most because of how he does his fasting and yoga," he confessed. "I never thought it could make much difference. But just the way he gets so low on his bottom turns, and how he does his backside roundhouses so tucked into the board, he made me want to try something like that out when I get home."

Phishy Fish

Quickie session this morning at my favorite fishy spot on the Phish. Nice to get back in the water after a weekend of moving. Inconsistent sets, but once in a while 4-5 waves would push on through. Good vibes and looks of kooking out by me on waves. But did managed to get a couple nice long rights pumping down the wave. Also managed a small coverup on a right. Good to be alive!

Jamaica

Queens over 5's

Woke up early to get some work done, then out the door at sunrise. Slight breeze in the air so turned away from Aina's and around DH which looked sort of sickly. Had two boards in the car so decided to head to Queens with the Miller 9'6". Ahhhh fun chest high waves peeling left and right on the outgoing high tide which was at 4:30 a.m. Lots of fun to be had. It is nice to be back on the log as I could catch most any wave I wanted. Lots of good vibes in the water, lots of local faces. The ladies were out in force today and they dominated parts of the lineup. Happy Aloha!

Sometimes you feel like a nut

Headed out to Publics again with the 7'6" egg. Wrong board! Too many longboarders outpaddling me on the outside. Did manage to catch one and only one wave, but it was fun. Dropped in on a set wave one of the longboarders somehow missed. Tucked in and grabbed a backside small tube ride until the wave hit the top of my head and shot me onto a faceplant. Fun and tired.

Mr. Lee

Headed out for a surf with Mr. Lee who drove in last night from the northshore. We relived his childhood by surfing at Pops. Inconsistent sets, but nice headhigh sets rolled through every once in a while. Fun to be out with the regulars enjoying another beautiful day in paradise.

Summer sendoff

A nice end of summer south swell arrived yesterday afternoon right on time. Headed out to survey the scene after work. Kewalo's was pumping with 2-4' overhead sets and da boys just jacking into wave after wave. Suicides was a playground for the bodies also. Next dropped by to see Kaisers and Bowls just firing. 3's was pretty quiet as this direct S swell missed the reef. Queens/Canoes was looking fun for the longboarders also. I plunked myself down at Publics for one very enjoyable and memorable session. Offshore breeze (not too strong) with meaty sets coming in on the high tide breaking out at the second reef. I managed to catch some super fun rides on the Munoz. One particular wave I had taken a right earlier and was sort of slugging it to get back out along the rocks. When I got outside I was by myself when a monster wave wrapped in from the right and I paddled into it solo. Rode the left all the way across the lineup and way inside. Gliding up and down the face as it continued to jack up, ahhh the glide.. so perfect. I think Publics is still one of the best waves on the Southshore for sure.

Clean and Glassy

Had a great labor day weekend on the Northshore with friends in Wailupe. Did get back into town for a Monday morning session at DH with S and S. Super glassy with fun conditions, but of course crowded.. but a good vibe in the water. Almost head high sets rolling through once in a while. Good to spend a couple of hours in the water to work off the food/beers ingested this weekend. Unfortunately with the conditions still almost perfect today, I am sitting in the office getting a jump on work this week.