A few raw nerves seem to have been sliced, minced and garroted in response to my quizzical post referring readers to Sharpy's site and his take on the BSA's decision concerning roughly half of the team for the impending 2008 Quiksilver ISA Junior World Championships. What to make of all this?
Let's review the facts or, at least, try and establish them. The Juniors starts in Hossegor, France on 24 May. Some of the British team have made arrangements to be in France before the event starts. They'll be there under the tutelage of Joel Gray, who I'm informed used to be a BSA coach. Joel will be coaching them and helping them get in shape, mentally and physically, for the event.
That was the theory. It appears, however, that the BSA have said that every surfer representing Britain must travel together, as a team, via ferry to France. If Sharpy's blog is correct, an exception has been made for Luis Eyre, who is arriving from Portugal. Again according to Sharpy (and I'm not aware of any official word to the contrary), if any British surfers do not return to travel en masse from the UK, they will be barred from competing.
On the face of it, this sounds silly. Why can't the BSA let people already in France join those who travel from the UK?
However, let's imagine that we're talking about the Olympics, not the World Junior Surfing Games. Would one half of, say, the British boxing team be allowed to head over to China a couple of weeks ahead of the others? Would half the 400m relay team take up residence in Beijing without their comrades?
The answer is, of course, 'no.' A lot of athletes hate the whole Olympic village thing and the team-building ethos that sees them lumped together for weeks on end, but they accept it as par for the course.
However, if I put my lawyer's hat on I recall that it's always useful to probe a little deeper in search of the truth. A key question that arises, to my not completely addled esrtwhile lawyer's brain, is one of timing. When did the surfers who intend to be in France elect to be there? Did they tell the BSA of their plans? Were those plans approved, ignored or rejected? Conversely, when did the BSA stipulate that all the British surfers had to travel together? Did the BSA actually make such a stipulation, or were people left to their own devices until the last minute?
The answers to these questions would, I think, shed a lot of light on what exactly is going on here. If, for example, the BSA decreed months ago that it wished all surfers to travel together (which strikes me, looking at the Olympic parallel, as a perfectly legitimate stance on behalf of a sporting body), then regardless of Joel Gray's merits as a coach (which, I'm assured, are not in question) the decision by half of the team to journey unilaterally to France, without their team-mates and ahead of them, strikes me as flawed. On the other hand, if the BSA said nothing about travel arrangements until, perhaps, being confronted by the France scenario, sympathies would have to lie with those surfers who've had the gumption to make plans to get on over to France and get some Hossegor water time ahead of the contest.
All the above is, of course, conjecture. I do not know the facts - all I know is hearsay and what I've read on this and Sharpy's blog. There are no doubt nuances that I have missed in the foregoing mini-analysis.
But regardless of the raw nerves out there, I think a measured resolution to this controversy should be found. When even an apolitical old hack like me gets involved, it is definitely time to say that British surfing politics has got to get its act together.
The photographs, which have absolutely nothing to do with this post and are intended to lighten the mood, are courtesy of Johnny Goes Global and Surf Experience. Meanwhile I'm off to read The Surfer's Path online - the website is almost as good as the mag.
Yesterday, in a two hour session that saw a wave count of almost zero owing to too strong an offshore wind and waves that flattered to deceive, I had ample to time to reflect on Mark Foo's famous line about death. Foo, who died at Mavericks on 23 December 1994, was an awesome surfer with a phlegmatic, not to say theatrical, attitude to his potential demise. "It's not tragic to die doing something you love," he said, adding another classic line: "If you want the ultimate thrill, you have to be willing to pay the ultimate price."
I pondered all the various things I like doing and assessed them for their "death would not be tragic if I went out doing this" quotient. Why? In the interests of research - to see if Foo was right - and because I'm of an age (er, 42 and a bit) where one starts reading things like The Tibetan Book of the Dead. Here, then, in no particular order, is my list.
10. Playing Poker.
I log on to play online poker or sit down for a live game. Minutes later, having been dealt A-A for five successive hands, I keel over with a heart attack. It's all over and no one is on the pitch.
Tragedy rating: 0/10.
Was death OK because doing something I love? 0/10.
9. Playing Football.
With customary skill and guile, I score a hat-trick for Dynamo Chuffs against The Times, who are bringing a team on a tour of the far west this summer. My celebrations are forever muted, however, when an embittered Fleet Street hack - a travelling supporter - runs onto the pitch and kills me by repeating every Daily Mail front page for the past decade.
Tragedy rating: 2/10.
Was death OK because doing something I love? 2/10.
8. Running on the cliffs with my loyal hound, Rio.
This is one of my favourite activities but Rio proves unable to cope with the arrival of another hound in the Wade household. Just as I near the summit of the Minack Steps, she turns with a savage glint in her eye and avenges my betrayal by sinking her fangs into my left ear. I yelp and fall down the steps into the ambivalent sea, where a basking shark, in taking evasive action, clobbers me to death with its tail.
Tragedy rating: 4/10.
Death OK? No. Can we send the other dog back, please?
Continue reading "The Top 10 Ways to Die" »
Here's a fine photograph if ever I saw one. It's by Sharpy and is of St Ives grom Tassy Swallow. Nice work.
PS Coming soon - the Top 10 "it's not tragic to die doing something you love" ways to die. I've been thinking about this a lot. Must be my age (42 and six and a half weeks).
When I was a lawyer, complete with an office, desk, my very own red pen and a secretary, I was quite happy plying my trade, save for two things: 1, the fact that my sundry legal jobs were all conducted miles from the sea, and 2, office politics. These two factors, along with a tendency to drink too much and become inappropriately amorous, ultimately conspired to render me unemployable.
Well, maybe that's putting it a bit high. But I certainly became a top quality Master of Disaster and engendered carnage of all kinds in my wake. Mercifully, that was then. Now I do all manner of different things for a living, even a little bit of law sometimes. I work in an office, but there is no one else in it, and that suits me just fine. You see, I'm rubbish at politics.
It was with unusual dismay, therefore, that I read Sharpy's post yesterday on Surf Photo. Sharpy writes of all manner of shenanigans involving the British Surfing Association and the impending 2008 Quiksilver ISA World Junior Surfing Championships. I know nothing, save that the BSA chairman, Karen Walton, lives near me in the far west, so she must be OK.
Actually, I do know something. I can discern that there's clearly an issue relating to the Quiksilver Juniors, to be held in and around Hossegor from 24 May to 1 June. If half the team are already in France, it seems odd to make them return to the UK, only to travel back to France again. But I don't know the full facts and can only suggest you read Sharpy's site for more.
Meanwhile, I confess that I know something else. I know that there have been some well-publicised disputes over the past couple of years among various UK surfing entities. Now for the reasons outlined above, I'm not one to get involved, and perhaps this will sound naive, but can someone tell me why on earth UK surfing is so politicised?
The photograph has absolutely nothing to do with this post save that it was the best of a poor bunch served up by a Google search of 'surfing and politics.' It appears courtesy of Chakra-Surfer.
An intriguing new offshoot of the surf/skate/snowboard zeitgeist has emerged. It's called Brushboarding.
Anyone know where it can be done in Cornwall?
A lot of people make a connection between surfing and music, but what about surfing and art?
If you're in Cornwall over the next month, head over to HiltonYoung in Chapel Street, Penzance, where you can see a wonderful exhibition of Porthleven-based artist Paul Wadsworth's latest paintings. Entitled 'Carnival', Paul's most recent work has been inspired by his travels to the Middle East. The canvasses fairly ooze with colour, are brimful of exotica and seem to blend mystery, desire and irreverence.
I was at the private view last night, and thanks to Mike Newman, also there, learnt that Paul is a surfer. I was impressed already by his work, but naturally the fact that he surfs as well meant that he went up yet further in my estimation. It turns out that Paul rides a Hobie nose rider, that his surfing Alma Mater is East Anglia, and that he's regularly in the line-up at Gwithian.
The pictures are of various of Paul's paintings, his studio and of his other life as a surfer at Gwithian. I didn't get a chance to ask the Paul if surfing is an inspiration (even if, as pictured, when simply waiting and thinking between sets), but I like to think the answer is 'yes.' And I do know that his show at HiltonYoung is well worth checking out.
Carnival runs until 14 June. See Paul Wadsworth's website and that of HiltonYoung for more information.
My ruminations of a couple of days ago about surfing for the over 40s prompted a fair few comments. I was particularly struck by that of Orkney-based Dave Flanagan, who concluded a hymn to our beloved sport with the indisputable words "Stoke is stoke, irrespective of your vintage."
Mindful also of the kind words of Basque country blogger Niega and others when I asked what I might do differently with this blog, I thought it might be useful to contribute to the "Is there surfing after 40 debate?" myself. I am, after all, 42 (and six weeks).
This last week there have been some good waves in the far west of Cornwall. I returned from Thurso last Friday, and since then have surfed some four or five times, on each occasion with my 12-year-old son, Harry. At a number of breaks there has been clean, solid 3-4ft swell, though it's now gone flat and isn't looking too great for the weekend. No matter, for me anyway: aged 42 (and six weeks), I had one of the best lefts of my life the other day. And the day before that, I nearly fulfilled this year's resolution - to get barrelled.
The left hander was served up at a spot which isn't remotely secret but which, out of due respect for those who've been surfing it far longer than me, I rarely name. It was a sunny, still afternoon, save for the waves, and beyond the line-up a large seal kept popping its head out of the water. I love seals and the whole selkie myth, but enough of that. The left came my way, I popped up, took a high line immediately and then made three backside off the tops in a row before cutting back and finding a little something still there. I say backside off-the-tops, but in my case though that's what they felt like, video evidence would probably put them in the backside nearly-off-the-top category.
The previous day I surfed my local beach. Again, I never name this spot, for as I've previously noted, it's a known break that's becoming secret again (at least, that seems to be the prevailing etiquette). However, a lot of people reading this will know exactly where I'm talking about. For those who don't, it's a tricky wave that often closes out. I've spent a lot of time getting a hammering whenever I paddle out just five minutes' walk from my house, for the truth is that the takeoff, when it's any good here, is fast, vertical and unforgiving. If you're not swift, you're nailed.
On bank holiday Monday Harry and I paddled out at the end of our road. Our trip to Barbados has served us both well, and now that I'm relatively injury-free we had a blast. The takeoffs were fine, though I did take the obligatory hammering on a couple of waves. But on what - to me, though the video evidence might prove otherwise - was the wave of the day, I dropped down the face of a sizeable right, put in a strong bottom turn and found myself half way up an immaculate, speeding green wall, one with its glistening lip starting to furl. I instinctively crouched, thinking "This is it! You're going to get barrelled!" but then, as is the way with this wave, the whole thing closed out. The lip certainly wrapped around over my head, but only so as to pummel me to the sandbar below.
What do these two incidents reveal?
For me, they were fodder for stoke aplenty in their own right, but in wider terms they illustrate that if you keep doing this strange, mystical, exhilarating and beautiful activity called surfing, you'll reap your own good karma.
Eighteen months ago, when my family and I settled back by the sea, here in the far west of Britain, I'd been surfing a handful of times each year for some 15 years. Sure, before then I surfed, windsurfed and skated a lot, and yes, every holiday we took (including our honeymoon) involved waves. But living inland and surfing is, save for rarest, most committed of individuals, a bit like being a mountaineer and living for 11 months of the year in Holland. It's frustrating. Damn it, it's agonizing. You know what you're doing wrong. You keep doing it. By the time you've got it wired again, it's time to go back home. You come back next time and the whole process starts again.
Then, when we finally moved here, I was immersed in writing for 12 hours a day for four months. By the time I was able to take to the water again, free and clear, I wondered: have I left it too late? Can I still live the dream? Because for me, surfing wasn't like riding a bike again. At all. But I knew what surfing would give me, if I kept at it, and so I did. I was 40 then.
Now, aged 42 (and getting older by the minute), I can feel tangible progress with my surfing. It'll have its haphazard days, sure. I'm certainly one of those people who can surf good waves OK, but make a bad wave look worse than it is. The video evidence would, I'm sure, reveal all manner of flaws. But the point is this: I know what being stoked feels like. A good wave gets close to the emotion I felt when my kids were born, is not far from the experience of falling in love, is life-affirming and enriching to the point that after a good ride I often look to endless oceanic horizon and say 'thank you, God' (and I'm not religious). Anyone who doesn't surf will regard that last sentence as nonsense. But it's not.
And the good news is that at 40, you're not too old to find out for yourself. Or, as Dave Flanagan put it perfectly: stoke is stoke, irrespective of your vintage.
Photo of well-known, non-secret spot courtesy of Gregoir on Flickr. Photo of known spot becoming secret again courtesy of Surfgatinho, also on Flickr.
A video - yes, a video (do we have the technology to play it, I wonder?) - wends its way through the post. It's called Not California and is from Nigel Winter. I wrote about Nigel's quest to revive the Gaffers Gallop some time ago on Timesonline. He's been kind enough to return the favour and send me this video, which he found in a second-hand bookshop in Brighton. 
Its subtitle promises revelations of a world that the likes of Pete Robinson and Russ Pierre know well - surfing in Brighton. Meanwhile, for more on the makers - dedicated Brit surfers to the max - see Not California.
Photo of a wave that definitely isn't in California courtesy of Russ Pierre's excellent blog.
A couple of days ago Michael Gove (MP for Surrey Heath) and Shadow Secretary for Children, Schools and Families wondered in his Times column whether 40 was too old to start surfing. He'd been inspired by Tim Winton's Breath, a novel acquiring a fair number of plaudits but which I haven't had a chance to read yet. Coincidentally, I was contacted by a reader of Surf Nation, who was also asking for an assessment of his chances of getting stoked by surfing post-40. Another friend of mine is also, age 42, taking up the sport. But have they left it too late?
In my view, there's no reason at all why a reasonably fit 40-year-old shouldn't be able to paddle out and ride a wave. Likewise, a 50-year-old, and, indeed, someone in his sixties.
The key for a raw novice in these age groups will be tuition. Children, teenagers and young adults will always learn twice as quickly as those d'un certain age; to an extent, lads such as my two sons (10 and 12) simply need to be in the water, making their own mistakes, rather than spending each weekend in a surf school. But a mature adult, even a sporty one, coming to surfing - especially if from a non-watersports background - will struggle unless the basics are taught and absorbed.
Taking up surfing post-40 will require dedication. For someone such as Michael Gove - living, as I imagine he does, in or near London (certainly, far from any surfing beaches) - regular trips to the coast will be essential. That said, it is salutary to remember that for a non-surfer, simply riding white water is a stoke-filled experience. Those who've 'got' surfing often forget this. You only need to look at the expressions on the faces of outright beginners as they ride white water to the beach to see that they're as stoked as those who've been getting barrelled for years.
I'd say, to Michael, the reader who was kind enough to drop me a line and to my friend from up the line: go for it. You might not be hitting the lip vertically at Thurso East within the first year - in fact, you're unlikely ever to do this - but surfing is one of life's most enriching activities. Those who don't are missing out.
Photographed here by Roger Sharp, this dude looks, at first glance, to be tending to the mean and moody. But a closer look reveals the hint of a wry smile and a calm, unflappable intelligence. Perhaps, indeed, this is an image of a man who knows he's done a good job, but whose inveterate modesty prevents him from making a song and dance about it.
Am I reading too much into a simple portrait? I don't think so, but I confess that having spent time with the man in question - Bernhard Ritzer, O'Neill's global event director - I have an extra insight into the man behind the Highland Open by Swatch.
If Ritzer was the type to blow his own trumpet, he would have ample reason based upon the Highland Open alone. O'Neill has hosted three Highland Opens since 2006, and each year, the event just gets better. This year's double overheard pumping surf at Brims Point will linger long in the memory, and Thurso East even came alive for the final day of competition. The swell Gods seem to be favourably disposed to Ritzer and the O'Neill circus, but who is the man behind the Highland Open?
Bernhard Ritzer has worked for O'Neill for 12 years, first as its marketing manager for Germany and then as the event manager for Europe. He stepped up to the role of global event director on 1 March this year. Born in Munich, Germany, Ritzer loves everything about the Highland Open.
"We will definitely be back on Scotland's North Shore next year, and for many years to come," says Ritzer, 40. "The experience of holding an event somewhere so different from all the other places on the Tour helps to make this event so special. At Brims especially, you feel as if you're on the edge of the world. It's a great feeling - to enjoy nature and be away from civilisation."
The enjoyment of nature has been dear to Ritzer since he was a small child. "I started skiing when I was three," he recalls, "and was racing by the age of seven." Ritzer added windsurfing to his list of sports at 12, and gravitated to snowboarding as soon as it hit the slopes. A quiet and thoughtful man, Ritzer has serious pedigree as a snowboarder: "I was the German champion and competed in the World Cup in 1991," he says, adding that he "had a few top 10 world rankings but couldn't quite get to the very top."
At the same time as he was honing his snowboarding skills, Ritzer also studied a degree blending environmental technology, physics and chemistry. Back then, in his mid-20s, he says he "wanted to make the world a better place." Unusually among those who later move in the higher echelons of the corporate world, that desire still animates Ritzer today. He is sincere when he says that "I think a lot about what will happen to the environment and humanity over the next 50 years. One of the reasons I have so much respect for Jack O'Neill [O'Neill's founder] is that he wants to give something back to the surfing community. He wants to help preserve our oceans, without which there is no surfing."
To that end, Ritzer says that O'Neill is committed to a variety of initiatives to promote ecological awareness and foster a respectful enjoyment of the sea. In the UK, these include extending the remit of the O'Neill Surf Academy and taking surfing to the children of remote outposts such as Thurso. "We're looking at setting up schools to teach kids to surf for a day, for free, to give them a first impression of surfing. Even if they're messing about in small 1ft waves, they're still having so much fun - and engaging with the ocean."
Ritzer himself surfs - the Maldives are a favourite destination - though he confesses that snowboarding remains his first love. He still windsurfs and enjoys wakeboarding. A family man, the one thing he finds difficult about lengthy events such as the Highland Open is being away from his two sons, aged six and eight. "But getting into the mountains or the water with them is fantastic," he says.
What of the future? As O'Neill's newly appointed global event director, what does Ritzer have up his sleeve?
"The Highland Open is our signature event, without a doubt," says Ritzer. "It's the only genuinely mobile event on the Tour - we could have surfed in the Orkneys, if that's where the swell had been - and we've forged good relationships with the people of Thurso. We love coming here and experiencing a sense of Scottish mystery, the poetry of the highlands. The pro surfers love it, too."
But are there any other plans - perhaps an O'Neill event in Ireland, or another cold water big wave mecca?
An enigmatic smile plays on Ritzer's face. As he pauses, I'm reminded of what someone connected with the Highland Open had said, just before I sat down to talk to its chief strategist: "Bernhard is a genius. He puts all the right people in place and lets them get on with their jobs. He doesn't interfere and it all gets done."
Ritzer eyes me intently. "We hope to do more of this kind of thing," he says. Then he's gone, and that's all he saying. But watch this space. Bernhard Ritzer might just have a surprise or two up his sleeve.
There's an interesting piece over on Surfers Village. Author Phil Jarratt is in search of the man who shot this arresting portrait of contemporary surfing's most famous (and photographed) son. The reason? He's putting the finishing touches to Kelly Slater: For The Love, due out by Chronicle Books in the U.S later this year.
As Jarratt says, "There are a hundred interesting chrome dome portraits of Kelly, but this one has a really special quality. It puts you inside Kelly's head, and
because this book is very much a personal statement, we'd love to use
it. Problem is, I can't find the photographer! I've thought I've
tracked it down a dozen times and come up with similar shots, but not
quite as resonant."
If you know who took this shot, email Phil at info@surfersvillage.com. Meantime, I'm wondering if it's the work of Spencer Murphy? I had the privilege of working with Spencer on a Laird Hamilton feature for Huck magazine, and this image has his hallmark. Spencer, are you out there? Were you the man behind the lens?
Newquay surfers dominated the final day of the Headworx English Nationals at Watergate Bay, with surfers from the town claiming over 10 of the 23 titles on offer.
Winning the prestigious Open division was 19 year old Tom Butler from Newquay, with defending champion Oli Adams second, and Headworx team riders Matt Capel and Reubin Pearce third and fourth respectively.
Butler and Adams both opened the final strongly, each posting one good wave score, before the heat was effectively ended when Adams and Capel both took off on the same wave incurring a double interference penalty. With both surfers penalised by the deduction of half of their second wave score, Butler only required a reasonable wave to secure the win.
“It’s been a good event, we had good fun waves yesterday and luckily the waves managed to stick around today,” said Butler, who has won English titles at every stage of his career as a junior surfer. “It was a little bit smaller today but I had one good wave in the final and then a bit of luck with Matt (Capel) and Oli (Adams) having a double interference - but I’m taking the win for sure, I’m so happy. I saw they were both paddling hard for the same wave and then they both stood up so they had to call a double interference.”
Continue reading "Newquay Surfers Dominate Headworx English Nationals" »
Very few politicians in the UK know anything about surfing, but Lord Thurso, Member of Parliament for Caithness Sutherland and Easter Ross, bucks the trend.
“I’m not a surfer myself but I watch them with a telescope through my window,” says the 55-year-old hereditary peer, whose house and land overlooks the reef at Thurso East. “Twenty years ago there were hardly any surfers here, 10 years ago a few more started turning up, and now there are always a few black dots out in the water. Their standard goes up dramatically every year.”
In accordance with Scottish law on hereditary titles, Lord Thurso owns not only the farmland on which the contest site is located but also the rocks down to the low water mark. “In England, the convention is different,” he says, “English titles provide for ownership to the high water mark.” However, fortunately for local and visiting surfers, not to mention the recently concluded O'Neill Highland Open by Swatch, Lord Thurso is not bothered by people using his land to go surfing.
“I don’t ask for anything in return for the use of the land and the rocks during the contest,” he says. “My family has a long-standing tradition of not interfering with people’s enjoyment. I’m just pleased to see that there is so much fun going on in the water outside my window.”
John Thurso comes from a venerable Liberal Democrat family. His grandfather, Sir Archibald Sinclair, was the Liberal Party leader from 1935 to 1945, and it was following his father’s death in 1995 that John took his seat in the House of Lords. He has since spoken many times in the House of Lords in favour of Lords reform, and is the first and only hereditary peer to have been elected to the Commons having previously sat in the Lords.
Lord Thurso was educated at Eton and went on to have a distinguished career in the hospitality industry. He is now a full-time politician, and says that the Highland Open is “a brilliant thing to have on the town’s doorstep. It brings very good spend into the town, and from talking to people and hoteliers on the weekend I know that they’re very appreciative of the event. It something new and different, encouraging a fresh perspective on Scotland so that tourism isn’t just about traditional pursuits such as hill-walking and fishing. Moreover, everyone here loves meeting the surfers. It’s a cliché but it’s true - they’re a really nice bunch of people.”
Moreover, “surfing is a great thing for young people to get into,” says Lord Thurso, adding that plans are underway to build a new facility on the pier, opposite the reef of Thurso East. “It’ll cater for a variety of watersports, from surfing to kayaking.”
That’s likely to be good news for Paul Canop, 13, who emerged as the Highland’s Open’s most devoted grommet. The Thurso youngster, who started surfing when he was five, was a fixture at Brims and Thurso East for the duration of the event. A member of the local surf club, Caithness Boardriders, Canop says he’d like to be a pro surfer one day. He says having the likes of Sunny Garcia in town has been “awesome.”
Given the increasingly high profile of surfing in Scotland, is Lord Thurso tempted to try his hand at what, for the Hawaiians, was ‘the Sport of Kings?’ Lord Thurso smiles. “I was brought up swimming in the sea outside the family home, in just a pair of trunks, but I fear the experience may have scarred me for life. Mind you, if I’d had the kind of kit O’Neill makes today, I think I’d have given it a go.”
It may be too late for Lord Thurso to take up surfing, but no matter. His support for the sport in Thurso, allied with his willingness to assist in the holding of the Highland Open, mark him out as one of that rare breed: the British politician who may not ride any waves, but has a lot of time for those who do.
Photograph of castle courtesy of a difficult-to-read name on Flickr; photo of the reef firing courtesy of Caro Jones on Flickr. Photograph of Lord Thurso (in suit) courtesy of his website.
Here, at last, is my Scottish skate slam.
As you will see, it's all going well enough on lovely road near Strathy until I get a little speed wobble on a frontside turn. I then inexplicably entered a strange netherworld of mental stasis. In other words, my brain froze. Instead of continuing to carve the board - the only way to survive skating downhill at roughly 25mph and demonstrated very nicely here by Matt Smith - I went straight. Why? Don't ask me. But once I went straight, I went faster. And faster. At this juncture, I had what seemed an age to contemplate my options. I was going too fast to carve to my right and knew that the board would wobble me off and into oblivion if I continued skating in a straight line downhill. Jumping off would have been certain to break my ankle. So what could I do? There was only one thing for it: deliberately angle the board to the left and eat it in the nice, alluring and marginally-less-painful-than-concrete mud by the side of the road.
The rest is history. But what makes this footage truly excellent is the instantaneous care and concern shown by the lads - Stef Harkon and John Navin - in the van. Thank God they were there. Check it out and enjoy.
This gnarly footage, from Current, makes me think with yet more respect of Larry Haynes, the legendary Pipeline cinematographer whom I met in Thurso while at the O'Neill Highland Open by Swatch. Larry is a great character and if anyone has paid his dues photographing - and surfing - Pipe, it's him. My occasional training partner at the Highland Open, Lucia Griggi, also earned some serious kudos by becoming, last winter, the first British woman to swim out and photograph Pipe. In fact, she might just be the first woman, per se, to do so, though when I asked Larry about this he said that Banzai Betty was ahead of Lucia.
Anyone know of other female photographers in the water at Pipe? Meanwhile, enjoy.
I've just been reading The FT, as one does on a Saturday. I'm no financier but the Saturday magazine and arts section are superb. However, I made a rare foray into the money pages and found this quote:
"Don't sit back and wait for your customers to complain; proactively seek their complaints. This feedback is key to customer retention."
This humble blog has leapt from an initial weekly readership nearly two years of six (myself, Karen, my two sons and, when their laptop was working, my Mum and Dad), to being checked out on a daily basis by thousands of people all over the world. There are lies, damned lies and statistics, and I guess the latter mean something, but what do you think? What would you like to see covered here? More straight surfing news? More on boardsports generally? A UK and Irish focus only? A global approach? Continued gratuitous references to QPR football club?
Any and all ideas welcome. And yes - my skate slam will be here soon. Though I'll probably regret putting it up...
I must try this with the basking sharks when they turn up at my local beach. They should be here soon. Although hang on - they haven't got any teeth (well, only tiny ones), so how would they pull me along? Other than that, I can see no flaws in this most excellent of recreational pursuits, save for the red wetsuit - surely it might attract a less friendly shark?
Surfing With A Great White Shark - Watch more free videos
 Alex Wade is a freelance writer who lives and surfs in the far west of Cornwall. Alex's blog will bring
you up-to-date news of our surf scene, what's on and where to surf, as well
as the best of contemporary surfing writing from around Britain. The aim is
to get you stoked and into the water as often as possible, because, as the
old saying goes: "Surfing is life. The rest is details."
About Surf Nation
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A few raw nerves seem to have been sliced, minced and garroted in response to my quizzical post referring readers to Sharpy's site and his take on the BSA's decision concerning roughly half of the team for the impending 2008 Quiksilver ISA Junior World Championships. What to make of all this?
On the face of it, this sounds silly. Why can't the BSA let people already in France join those who travel from the UK?
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