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Do not watch this skate slam

I feel bad about posting this. It makes my Strathy slam seem like a walk in the park. Honestly, don't watch it. I hope the kid's OK.

Surfing in Dubai

Yes, it's true. The city of absurdly tall buildings, infinite heat and Premier League footballers also boasts a surf break. If you don't believe me, check out this footage, courtesy of Current.com.

Breath

Tim Winton's Breath has been attracting oodles of media attention, so much so that, out of sheer pique and infantile jealousy, I'm tempted not to read it.

I jest. The universally good reviews suggest that Breath might even eclipse Kem Nunn's The Dogs of Winter; certainly, for anyone interested in surfing's interaction with literature, it is a must-read book.

By far the most interesting review I've read, to date, appeared in the Times Literary Supplement for 16 May 2008. It's by Dr Ronan McDonald, the Director of the Beckett International Foundation and Senior Lecturer at the University of Reading. It was originally published under the headline "Grace and surrender", with the strapline "Surfing and the fascist aesthetic". It's reproduced here by kind permission of Dr McDonald and the TLS.

Like Hardy'€™s Wessex or Faulkner'€™s Mississippi, the Western Australian landscape has been consecrated by Tim Winton'€™s fiction. He has been garlanded with literary awards and acclaim in his native Australia, and has been twice short-listed for the Booker Prize in the UK. His work is preoccupied with wounded or troubled characters, often haunted by their past, who set out on actual or psychological journeys in search of purpose, meaning and redemption. Dirt Music (2002) depicts a vast, hostile outback in which the individual self is tiny and threatened. In Breath the sea takes on a comparable role, an immense elemental force that simultaneously compels and controls the protagonists.

The story is told by Bruce Pike, a middle-aged paramedic, recollecting the adventures of his adolescence. The action takes place in and around Sawyer, a small mill-town near the mouth of a river. For '€"Pikelet"' and his friend Ivan Loon ("Loonie"), the sea promises exhilaration, risk, excitement, an alluring alternative to the staid routines of their parents'€™ lives. When they fall in with a mentor, '€"Sando", a surfing maestro in his thirties, a triangle of male yearning, rivalry and betrayal develops.

This novel is a paean to surfing. But it will not only be savoured by those of sun-bleached hair and rippling torsos. It treats elemental themes of fear and friendship, loneliness and boredom, the lure and danger of life lived intensely, the broken promises of adolescence sliding into middle age. Sando and his wife, Eva, are labelled as hippies. Yet there is nothing peace-loving or egalitarian about their self-destructive cravings. This is not so much a community as a hierarchy of signal individuals: an elite. Pikelet is something of a loner and, we learn early on, avoids "€œteamsports of any kind". Sando has an insouciant "princely manner"€, and is compared to a Brahmin and a matador. He and his two apprentices are, for Sando, "discreet gentlemen"€ seeking out "appointments with the undisclosed"€.

Inspired to stack it, all over again

Good to see Stef Harkon down at PK today. He's back from the O'Neill Mission, which certainly sounds like a mission given the 2,500 miles driven in search of surf (now that's a surf trip, and all in one country). Stef said that a good skate session went down, and then I recalled that Dave Flanagan had sent me this link. Check it out - some nice, inspirational carving, even if memories of stacking it in Strathy still loom large.

SAS grass roots tour comes to an end in Portrush

Surfers Against Sewage (SAS) campaigners have finished another year's Grassroots Tour. Here's Campaigns Director Richard Hardy on what went down.

Each year SAS plans a weeklong tour to visit key watersport sites up and down the country. Over the last few years we’ve been the length and breadth of the country and met some great people who are passionate about protecting and improving their coastal environment for all to enjoy. This year’s tour was no different, with keen audiences checking out the latest SAS campaigns and watching our very own eco-surf documentary – View From The Greenroom.

This year’s tour took a west coast route, with stops in North Devon, South and North Wales, the gateway to Scotland’s West Coast, Glasgow, and the hub of Northern Ireland surfing – Portrush.

With our watery playgrounds under threat, those attending the talks were able to find out from SAS campaigners how issues like climate change and marine litter are choking our blue planet.

We also spoke about the key pollution issues of tomorrow and supporters got the inside track on how to campaign effectively in their own back yards with lessons in behind the scenes creative campaigning that SAS use in achieving victories for the environment. It was great to get out around our beautiful coastline to share what’s good (and what’s not) about using the UK’s beaches for recreation. We hope we’ve helped inspire a new batch of eco-surf warriors to help protect and preserve their breaks from damage in the future.

This year’s tour was supported by Patagonia Footwear. Thanks to them we were able to raffle off a pair of Patagonia Shoes and organic cotton shopping bags each night. Those entering the raffle during the tour stops will also go into a draw at the end of May, where they could yet win a brand new Eco-board.

Duncan Holme from Patagonia Footwear added: "Patagonia Footwear was proud to supporting Surfers Against Sewage on their Grassroots Tour and for helping us all to think about our environmental footprint."

Congratulations to Sam Davies and Roxy, first British team home in Artemis Transat

British female solo sailor Sam Davies, sponsored by Roxy, during the night crossed the finish line of The Artemis Transat just off Boston, USA. She completed the single-handed race aboard 60 foot racing yacht Roxy in 15 days and 10 hours. In finishing The Artemis Transat, Sam Davies has just completed her 15th transatlantic race and the sixth onboard her pink boat since being appointed skipper at the end of 2006.

From the dockside in Boston, Sam, who also surfs, said: “Many aspects of the race were totally unexpected. I had fun and enjoyed some great sailing but at times got really frustrated. I guess this is what you come to expect being an offshore sailor. I feel I sailed a clever race and I'm proud of my tactical choices, and my boat-handling. I have had such a great time and learnt more and more about Roxy. I feel totally at home onboard and I am looking forward with eagerness to the Vendee Globe. But I'm sad that this race is so short - I could have happily carried on sailing - but I am looking forward to enjoying a nice meal, a hot bath and a soft pillow tonight!”

Like thousands of people following Sam’s progress, on the South coast of England, Sir Robin Knox Johnston has been an avid supporter of the British women and commented on her race. “Sam has shown her real ability in The Artemis Transat. She does not have a new boat but has been keeping up as if she had. She has done her reputation no harm and others will appreciate that her dogged determination is a threat whenever she is racing.”

It's a dog's life - but will Bilbo be back?

I posted recently about Bilbo. I'd like to see him back on the beach, and if you agree, add some comments to this typically trenchant piece by Alf Alderson.

As a dog owner it saddens me that a fine and honourable hound like Bilbo should be barred from his calling.

It saddens me still further that an august body like the RNLI should have made this decision, for now one of the most popular charities in Britain is being made to look rather ridiculous by its actions.

But it’s not just the RNLI which has a thing about dogs. As anyone who lives close to a Blue Flag beach will know, once that flag is raised above said beach man’s best friend is banned from setting paw upon sand until the tourist season is over (good on Penwith District Council for allowing dogs on the beach morning and evening – here in Pembrokeshire you and your dog will be shot by snipers hiding in the dunes if you venture anywhere near the beach between May and October).

Wades go brushboarding

I crossed the county line today, making a trip to my hometown, Exmouth, to see my sister who's just had a baby. En route the family and I stopped just outside Topsham and met up with Kyle Dent, the inventor of brushboarding. Also there were Ben, Keith and Steve, more of the brushboarding crew, who showed us how this fine new pursuit is done and then kindly let us have a few goes on the electrically powered brush ramp.

The consensus from all three Wades who went brushboarding is that it's a blast. It's hard work on your legs and will get your heart pumping, but brushboarding is a slice of pure fun. After half an hour or so we were all thoroughly stoked (not least, on a personal level, because brushboarding has come out of Exmouth), and we'll be heading up the A30 again on Thursday when brushboarding comes to Crealy Adventure Park in Wadebridge. We're hoping to be joined by a few of the Sennen area rippers and Mike Newman will be on hand to take some shots for a forthcoming Pit Pilot piece. Try and get there if you can - it may look surreal, but brushboarding is superb.

Harry and I even made it back to the Cove for a few waves just before high tide. The surf was small but the sun was shining, and the water is starting to warm up nicely. Look out for the basking sharks - there was one at my local break two days ago.

You want truth? Ha! Here's Sun Ra

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Sennen surf club set to reform

To talk in the line-up, or not?

Recently ADR of The Surfer's Path penned an editorial in favour of silence, not least because of what seems to have been fortunately just a temporary affliction of surfer's ear. I met a local surfer a couple of days ago who said that she, too, preferred total silence, but for different reasons - she liked the time and space to think, and as a beginner, didn't want to be distracted. In contrast, three or four male surfers at Gwenver recently seemed to believe that they were there not merely to surf but to see who could shout the loudest.

Myself, I like a bit of chat, but not too much. I had just the right level yesterday during a surf that ranged from very bad, to OK-to-good, and back to fairly rubbish again. I always enjoy a bit of banter with Allie (who points out, in response to my recent posts about surfing in one's 40s, that round here just three words are needed: 'Pete the Yank', 73 and still going strong) and needless to say, given that I do all my surfing with my elder son Harry, he and I chat throughout a session. But yesterday I also found myself chatting to local surfer PT, who conveyed some news which was a delight to hear.

After a period of dormancy, what I'm told is the UK's oldest surf club is set to reform. The Sennen Surf Club's revival owes much to local characters such as PT, Mick Jackson and Jamo (he of Bilbo fame). I'm not sure if the club has officially been relaunched yet, but the plan is to create a club that merges surfing, surf-lifesaving and general fitness training for surfers in and around Sennen Cove. The area has produced some outstanding surfers - the likes of Sam Smart, Sam Bleakley, James Parry and Jon Buchorski spring to mind - and having a year-round club to serve as a focal point for surfers of all abilities will hopefully help bring on the next generation.

I think I'm right in saying that the Sennen Surf Cadets kick off again next Saturday. Dave Muir has done a great job with them and I know that my sons can't wait for the return of Saturday morning surf sessions. With the Cadets to run over the summer and Sennen's surfing club about to be reincarnated, things are looking good in the far west.

Meanwhile, I hear, although not from the line-up, that the O'Neill Mission has scored some waves over in La Torche, France. This is a wild and windswept spot, or was 23 years ago when I windsurfed it in a force six with head high waves (no injuries but a near drowning and broken mast for Rich and Elliot, out there with me back then). Those were the days. The funny thing is that mentally I still believe I'm capable of the athleticism I had back then, but increasingly the evidence suggests otherwise. At 42 (and eight weeks), no doubt I'll struggle on, ruing the surfing law that says if I'm having a bad surf it'll always be in front of everyone I know (while the good ones go unwitnessed), but never mind: a little bit of chat in the line-up is no bad thing, and I was stoked by what I heard yesterday.

Right, now I'm off to try some brushboarding. The pictures are courtesy of the Cornwall Guide

British team sets sail for World Juniors

After all the hullabaloo (great word - must be used on a daily basis), they're off.

Pictured here is the British team about to depart for the 2008 Quiksilver ISA World Junior Surfing Championships, which take place in south west France from the 24 May to 1 June. The team is comprised of, in the Under 18s, Lyndon Wake, Lewis Clinton, Arron Evans and Stuart Campbell, while in the U16s are Luis Eyre, Josh Piper, George Picking and Toby Donachie. In the Girls' team the new 16-year-old champion Holly Donnelly is joined by Karma Worthington, Kathleen Spears and Tassy Swallow.

A lot has been said about this but all I'm going to say now is: good luck.

Surfboards on trains? Far out dude!

Neil Watson alerts me to this ad for railcards for those aged between 16 and 25. You can click this link to find out more.

Like Neil, I'm all for the youth of today being able to travel the country by train, especially if they can save a third of their fares thanks to a railcard. But this ad seems to suggest that they can take surfboards with them, and so far as I'm aware, this either isn't true on certain rail networks, or, on Great Western for example, will incur a surcharge.

Surely surfing hasn't been co-opted in a marketing campaign, with little or no thought as to whether it fits? Far out dude!

Litigation and Surfing

I've just heard depressing rumours to the effect that litigation is being contemplated over two recent controversies:

1. The BSA's decision to insist that members of the team for the forthcoming ISA World Juniors travel as one to France, and

2. The refusal by the RNLI to allow Bilbo to be present on Sennen Cove beach this summer.

When I was an evil lawyer, I was an evil litigation lawyer. I was known for being pretty good at tactics, aggression, being evil and all that lawyerly stuff, but not great at 'client development'.

'Client development' is all too often code for 'Thinking of ways to ensure the gravy train doesn't end.' I.e., once you've got a new client and a new claim, how do you string it out for as long as possible?

"But why would anyone want to do a thing like that?" I hear you say.

Innocent fools! For money, of course.

Trouble was that I used to discourage clients from litigating. I would do anything possible to ensure that they didn't spend money racking up fees with me or anyone else. Believe it or not, I did this for an altruistic reason. It was my sincere belief that the way in which the legal system works allows for inbuilt licensed fraud. Perhaps times have changed, what with no win, no fee deals possible these days (although there are plenty who will tell you that things are worse than ever), but back then I would ask would-be clients: is it really necessary for you to bring legal proceedings? Do you really want to commit to the whole hideous kaboodle? (Yes, this approach rendered me less evil than my superiors would have wished. It's fair to say that it created a degree of tension which would result in only one winner. And it wasn't me.)

If they were still unsure, I'd say this: "You realise that if you do choose to sue, you will expose yourself to months of pain and suffering. Litigators are evil people and they will write evil letters accusing you of evil things. They'll probably enjoy it, too. Before you know it, you will feel like killing yourself."

And then, as a final deterrent, I would say something irrefutable:

"Don't forget, the only people who win are the lawyers."

I do hope the rumours aren't true. Whatever the prompts, litigation and surfing really shouldn't go together.

The image is courtesy of a site evidently preoccupied with evil lawyers.

Can surfers ever be altruistic?

It is resolutely flat in the far west, leaving me with no option but to try and keep up with the vast amount of work on my plate lately. Hopefully tomorrow will bring swell and therefore an escape, but in the meantime, is it possible to be an altruistic surfer?

I wonder because, as we know, surfing is a totally selfish pursuit which has been known to wreck relationships, careers and car parks. However, on the other hand, surfing engenders feelings of ecstasy which no drug can equal. As such, therefore, surfers go round doing good, rather than being so blinkered that they can't see the wood for the trees.

Is this right? See this link about a North Devon surfer called Tim who has made Sri Lanka his home. It appears, as Paper Surfer says, that Tim gets more than his fair share of waves, but that he has done and is still doing a lot of good for the victims of the 2004 tsunami.

A fine effort, and bearing in mind one or two recent controversies, one that we should maybe think about next time politics rears its unappealing head.

Meanwhile, Pit Pilot hits the streets any day now. Greg Martin continues to do a good job with the mag, so check it out (and I'm not saying that just so he won't kick me at footie tonight).

Bring Back Bilbo!

Check out this story from the Mirror - it turns out, following the RNLI's takeover of lifeguarding in West Penwith, that popular lifeguard dog Bilbo has been banned from Sennen Cove beach.

I have met Bilbo and his owner, Jamo. Indeed, I interviewed the pair of them for a piece in Coast magazine a while back. Jamo, who with author Janeta Hevizi, recently released a book celebrating Bilbo (see this link - unfortunately I can't find an image), says that the decision to ban Bilbo from the beach is "a scandal, an absolute disgrace."

Bilbo is a huge Newfoundland, and very popular with kids. Usually, now that the lifeguard season has started again, they'd clock Bilbo patrolling the beach with Jamo - and in doing so would observe information about red and yellow flags worn by Bilbo on a vest. Moreover, Bilbo was an ice-breaker, a way of Jamo and the other lifeguards to interact with the public and get their message across.

Rumour has it that another popular lifeguard dog, Murphy of PK, will be barred from hanging out at the hut, as is his wont. And yet, in a gesture to be applauded, Penwith District Council has relaxed restrictions on dogs on beaches. They are allowed access to beaches this summer, so long as they're there early in the mornings and in the evenings.

I reckon that banning Bilbo is petty-minded and mean-spirited. If you agree, post a comment and let's see if we might be able to get the RNLI to change its mind.

Icelandic Stoke

Here's a welcome change from all the controversy - a tale of stoke, pure and simple.

Wavelength editor Tim Nunn and Jersey free surfer Ian Battrick scored some empty and killer surf on a recent trip to Iceland. On the north coast they had to camp for two nights in a blizzard and, to save money, lived off soup and porridge for the duration of the trip (with healthy doses of what Tim says is "a local obsession with very good coffee").

As Tim goes on to say: "We camped everywhere, despite the fact that average temperatures in April are only three degrees centigrade. We were joined by Californian film maker Timmy Turner, who was in Iceland making his new movie, Cold Thoughts. Iceland is a full on wilderness surf destination and we found and surfed at least four new waves, on the south and north coasts. The north was the harshest area, barren and cold, but it was worth it. We found a couple of really fun right points, which had never been surfed."

You can read the whole tale in the next issue of Wavelength, out on 23 May.

KEEPING THE STOKE (PART 1)

Flat today.

No waves.

Wet too.

Can't skate.

Controversy everywhere.

Serious downer.

Surfing in the news.

Wrong reasons.

Any redemption?

Late at night.

What's it all about?

Contests. Competition. Professionalism.

Legit. All three, and more.

But it gets you down.

Yeah.

What happened to the wave of the day?

What happened to kids surfing, because it's fun?

What happened to skate slams, because they're part of the deal?

What happened to surfing?

What happened to riding a wave?

If you believe in KEEPING THE STOKE, post a comment.

British Surfing Politics: Time To Pull Together. And Chill Out

The debate over British Junior surfing team rumbles on. I've heard from various concerned parties today, I've been through the comments on this blog, and I've had a think. Here, for what it's worth, is what I've concluded.

1. The most important thing in all this is that the British team can prepare for the World Junior Surfing Games free of any distractions.

2. They have a major distraction right now, with flak flying around all over the blogosphere.

3. We're talking about teenagers here, not big ugly adults like me. I can take a bit of abuse, but some of things dished out in the direction of one or two of the protagonists have been wrong, plain and simple.

4. Some of the competitors are already in France. The BSA say that all the surfers were told ages ago that the team had to travel together, on a ferry next week. The converse contention is that this stipulation was never communicated to the team-members or their parents. Hence some of the team opted to head over to Hossegor and train with Joel Gray.

5. Both Joel and Karen Walton are anxious for this dispute to be resolved as soon as possible, so that the team can get on with preparing for the event.

6. The BSA seems to be sticking by its guns, i.e. saying that anyone already in France must return to the UK, then go back to France with the team.

6. Joel has suggested that any grievances are dealt with after the event, given that some of the team are currently in France.

Conclusion.

The BSA, if it did inform all team members of its travel plans months ago, is within its rights to ask that they return and travel as a team. Yes, that's galling to those in France. But if UK surfing is a serious competitive enterprise, then its governing body is entitled to require its athletes to behave in accordance with its rules.

However, as surfing's governing body the BSA has an inherent discretion. That discretion means it can waive the letter of the law, particularly if to do so is to act in the best interests of the team.

The BSA, on this occasion, could decide that the best course of action is one of pragmatism. It could let those in France stay there and issue a rallying call for the team, as a whole, to pull together. And, equally, make the point in crystal clear terms that next time, the team travel as one - or else.

Meanwhile, let's chill out with the personal stuff. It won't and doesn't help.

British Surfing Politics (slight return)

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.

The Top 10 Ways to Die

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?

Killer Shot of Tassy Swallow

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).

British surfing politics (groan)

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.

Brushboarding

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?

 

Surfing and Art

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.

Surfing aged 42 (and six weeks)

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.

Johnny Rad: Alive and Kickin' in LA

Astute readers will have noted that Johnny Rad has posted a comment to a post from a while back. He's also emailed me with the excellent news that he's "alive and kickin' in LA." The Rad Man has long been one of my all-time favourite musos, so here is footage of one of his classic tracks from the days when our future was primitve.

And here's an another slice of skate supremacy.

Not California

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.

Is 40 Too Old To Learn To Surf?

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.

Bernhard Ritzer: The Man Behind The Highland Open

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.

Who Shot Kelly Slater?

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 Dominate Headworx English Nationals

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.”

Lord Thurso On The Rather Nice Wave Outside His Window

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.

Skate Montage

Those caring souls, Stef Harkon and John Navin, have been busy uploading film to YouTube. Their efforts show that we went from this

to Carving Carlise

and then to this slice of Strathy carnage (which you may have seen; a memorial marks the spot, if you're ever in the wilds of Caithness...)

 

until finally, Stef and Matt did this (I was travelling to Wick Hospital for an X-Ray by then but thanks to my Finisterre jacket, my injuries were minimal).

 

Wade Eats Tarmac. Or, An Object Lesson In What Not To Do When Skating Hills

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.