I started the search at dawn. Karen left out the bike (thanks, pal!), and I headed for the point. The trek was a bit harder than last time, due to unusually soft sand at higher tide. But, nothing beats the lift of the heart to see two different sets of turtle tracks in the morning light, one set in and one set out. I imagine the eggs, warming in the summer sand. Grow little turtle, grow. And, hope to the heavens that when you see your first day, that it is not marred by oil in the water...
At the point, oddly enough, it looked smaller than it had further up the beach. The water was a rusty brown, and I knew that meant cold. I rode all the way to the tip of the point, but the waves had no shape, just weak lines coming in and listlessly closing out.
I decided that I would just ride all the way to the pier, and hope for rideable surf. It was stupid. High tide at the pier? What a dumb idea. But, I was determined not to chase it all over today, burning fuel - and daylight - for something resembling a wave.
Well, lucky me. I parked the bike at the rocks, where I could ride no further due to the rising tide. What the... look at that right peeling off! I watched as a longboarder rode a chest high, glassy wall all the way to the inside. The combination of the high tide and that little crook in the landscape had equaled a decent little break. I scrambled to get ready, and paddled out without even stretching.
Three hours later, I came in exhausted, sated, and stoked! The waves were finally breaking, walling up with enough power so that you could fly along, cut back, hit the lip, and even (believe it or not) get tubed. I had so much fun out there today...
One wave in particular stands out... I saw it jacking up, closer to the pier, a bigger one, and dropped in a bit behind the peak. I just pulled into it, looking out the almond eye and held on and on as it broke over me. Valerie kept talking about it the rest of the morning, and that made it seem real. She said, "You're showing the boys how it's done!" I loved that. There were others, some I came out of, others I didn't. The walls were so breath taking when they rose up in glassy peaks and walled up steep and fast - for once! Today it felt like a real swell, as if it might be coming up. But, after talking to Bob, and everyone else, I think I just lucked out today, and caught everything coming together in the last place you would ever think it would.
Italy is out and they deserved too. 30 minutes (the last ones) of decent football are not enough to qualify.
I used to dislike football (soccer for the americans), but lately I've been enjoying it a lot. I watched plenty games of both the italian Serie A and the english Premiere Legue last season. Enough to have an opinion about Italy's performance, so here you have it.
IMO the manager Lippi did a really bad job at selecting the players. He left home players like Totti and Cassano who would have done sure better than Montolivo or Pepe or Iaquinta.
He left sitting on the bench two great Napoli players: Quagliarella and Maggio. As soon as those two entered the game (together with another great player Pirlo, who had been injured till then) the difference was clearly noticeable.
But the biggest mistake of all was to replace the injured keeper Buffon with the inexperienced Marchetti who looked and acted quite nervous. Napoli goal keeper De Sanctis (sitting on the bench) would have done a much better job.
Now that the first round is almost over, the tournament will get interesting. I sure don't want to miss Germany vs England, let's hope for a good game. At the very beginning of the the world cup, England was my favorite. So much talent (despite all the injuries) on the pitch, let's see if Capello finally will let them play they way they know to.
That's all I have to say and to try to avoid to make this the most boring post ever, here's a lil south swell shot.
I had everything planned out last night. I called Karen to ask her to put the bike out for me. She remembered at 1 am! But, I didn't look hard enough for it in the pre-dawn light and blew it, not seeing it there. I got up at 5:15 am, got everything organized, and then headed for her house. I unlocked the park gate by car headlights, and unloaded the car. But... where the heck is my bike?
Discouraged, I did not give up. I decided to travel to Matanzas. It was just as I thought. Bob was there, which was great, Walter, too, but the glassy swells were rearing up and backing down just at the point of breaking. Ack! We ended up only getting depressed, discussing the oil spill, again. At one point, Bob was yelling, "That's is, I have had it with this crap!" And he didn't mean the waves (I did get one good one, anyway).
I told him that I have always said that it was going to take something horrific to get people to do something to change things. Until they are affected, people will exist in their bubble o' consumer illusion. It all sucks, and it made us feel lucky that we were out in the ocean at all, sitting in a clean, glassy sea, a dolphin surfacing, coming up towards me, inside a cresting wave.
I went in after only about a half hour, and drove back to the tenth street. It was disappointing, brown, and lifeless. It looked like a sea of oil. The pier was a zoo, a million longboarders and closeouts. I can't wait to get to Costa Rica. Six more days...
I haven't seen it that high in months. I think it's just because it has been flat for so long, because I actually surfed four spots this morning and I can safely say they were all only on the edge of almost being good.
First stop: North side of Matanzas. It looked so-so early. Bob had been out since 4 am. Really? No, 5:30 am. Walter was standing on the beach, telling us he had seen a shark in the shallows chasing mullet. So, Andy and I paddled out. Andy came in after about twenty minutes. This ain't worth it! It was lumping up again and disappearing, but every now and then we would watch one peel off, mint green water and rolling along begging to be ridden. I caught one really fun one towards the end that peeled off nice, but over all...eh.
Next stop, Summerhaven. I met up with Jack at the overlook as I was leaving Matanzas, and we decided to go look at it on the south side. He said he has seen some "overhead sets" there. I was doubtful, but went with him. Once there, it looked blah. "Just wait for a set," he said. We waited. And waited.
The outgoing tide was killing it.
I left and drove to the end of the road, where Junior and I went yesterday, but today it looked brown and not as lined up outside. I hoped it was a minor deception and paddled out. Nope. That was a bust. It was only breaking close to shore today, and not even that good. Mostly close-outs. Bleech. The water is so chilly at first!
Bob said he heard Marineland was breaking good yesterday, so I went there. No one was out there, and it looked so-so. Why can't we get a break? We finally get a somewhat swell and the tides are the worst!
I headed for Crescent Beach next, where Junior was waiting. At least the water was pretty there. Only a few guys were out, and it looked a bit more shapely here, at least. We paddled out, but it was the same old thing. Gutless. I did manage to score a couple that were good for roundhouse cutbacks and racing along, but overall, not the juice I want. The water was nice, though, glassy and green. It was worth the paddle out, just for that.
Off to 16th Street next, where I met up with John and Griffin. We paddled out there, but the sun was getting so high and the crowds on the beach were getting annoyingly thick. I scored a few good outside sets, but they were the kind that bowled up nice and green and got your heart racing for naught, as they would suddenly loose their steam and you would be left milking it, cutting back and forth to generate speed. I need real waves! If it was just a couple feet bigger...
It is such a joy to see the look of joy on her face after she catches a wave! She is so fearless and stoked! Her mom, Tara, wanted to try it, and it is clear she gets her skills from her mom. Tara stood up nearly every single time, too! The waves were just big enough.
Today, Junior and I were on the scene early. I was anticipating so much more than was there. Listening to the buoys all night did not bear the fruit I imagined. Two feet at eight seconds, all night long. When I arrived at the beach this morning, I was determined to ride the 5'6" despite the size of the waves. It still amazes me, how that little rocket ship catches the mushiest mush and still flies. I so wanted to take off and do something, but the waves would just lump up and disappear.
The janitors came out on their SUPs, then the long boarders, and my heart sank. The tide dropped, and I told Junior I couldn't take it anymore, the people everywhere in the water, the SUPs, the people everywhere on the beach!
We headed for sanctuary. South, to Matanzas.
Once there, on the south side at the end of the road, we found it. The water was green and no one was around. I couldn't believe no one was even surfing the south side at all. It was small, but I have seen twenty people out in less. We traversed the rocks, crossed the river, and the beach opened up, empty and clean. The waves were small, but my first one was worth the whole drive. It was a right that peeled off, green, chest high, and fast. A few more came through, but nothing like that one, and then the lowering tide sucked it all away. It was just as well, as an annoying jack hammer started pile-driving a concrete piling into the ground just beyond, by the bridge. Bang! Bang! Bang!
It was like we were in a different world down there. The only people we could see were two lovers, standing in the shallows. The landscape was so serene, the water clear and sparkling. It took all the stress away. Well, if you could block out the jack hammering.
The first two comments inspired me to add some information.
Average number of people killed by sharks worldwide every year: 4 Average number of people killed in car accidents worldwide every year: 1.2 millions Average number of people killed by DOGS IN THE USA ONLY every year: 26
In contrast we are killing close to 100 million sharks per year and most of them are simply killed for their fins to make shark fin soup, a status symbol in China. Next time you go into a chinese restaurant and you see shark fin soup on the menu remember an animal that has almost the same life span as you died for that soup and his fins were severed from his body and the body dumped over the side.
Virtually all the shark attacks happened because the shark thought the victim was either a seal (in the case of a surfer think how a surfer looks from below) or there was poor visibility in shallow water. Virtually all attacks are a single bite and the shark didn't come back for more because it didn't taste like he expected. The deaths are usually due to blood loss. For more info on shark attacks and the number of sharks killed by humans go to: www.bite-back.com
This week Danny got hit while riding his bike on his lunch hour by a fat drunkard driving a PT Cruiser. He had to be life flighted to Shands Hospital in Jacksonville with possible head injuries.
THE GUY KEPT ON DRIVING!
Luckily, someone chased him down. Danny is at home now, recovering. No head injuries, but stitches, staples, and road rash deluxe.
My loathing for PT Cruisers and Cadillacs grows.
So maybe it was a good thing that the tech at the bike shop forgot to put a crucial part on my cassette this week, and I didn't find out until I got up early today, packed all the biking gear in the car (let me tell you, biking is much more complicated, equipment-wise, than glorious surfing). So, I drove over to Sean's and found out I had to miss the ride today. I like to think it was all to save me from something like crashing right before my Costa Rica trip. But, that's "magical thinking," like Sean says. SO WHAT! I BELIEVE IN MAGICAL THINKING.
Along with this new forecast:
COASTAL WEATHER SYNOPSIS (Issued 7am 6/19/10): The duldroms are here to stay through the weekend, followed by significant improvement starting Monday, extending through midweek when lowering pressure in the northeastern Caribbean Sea combines with a strengthening Bermuda high pressure ridge to produce an extended period of deep/lengthy east-southeasterly fetch over the southwestern Atlantic.
Red Alert: Google a band called FREELANCE WHALES and listen to "Generator 2nd Floor," and tell me these guys are not contenders for best new music this year.
Hi, we will be out of town from 20th June 2010 to 2nd July 2010.
For any enquiry, please kindly email to DHsunglass@gmail.com. Do leave your contact number so we can contact you when we are back in town. You should get our reply within 48 hours.
At the moment, my-oakley-collection.blogspot.com is planning to move to a shop space in Central area and should be ready by early Aug 10.
I apologize with Daniele De Rossi. A (pissed off) italian reader sent me an email and pointed out that the Paraguay guy actually did hit him. In the slow motion at minute 1:02, you can see the Paraguay guy lifting the front of his foot in order to hit De Rossi's left foot. He steps on De Rossi's left hill and De Rossi will fall a step after that. Quite a dangerous contact actually, since he could have tore his Achille's tendon.
That's one case in which the replay would have not helped much... at least if I was the referee! Maybe instead of a hand held device in the hand of the referee, there should be a team of experts evaluating each case on a big screen HD tv on the side of the pitch.
As kindly reminded, I've been slacking a bit (surfing some) and here's the report of a couple of decent wave sailing days at Hookipa. I'll start from Wednesday 16, Tuesday 15 coming up soon.
Don't really have a favorite, so I'll leave the chronological order, also because the one I kinda liked best was the first one anyway. Laurent goiter.
Nico takes the Maui Surf Report logo high up. He's my best team rider, for sure.
Mark, mutant clew first.
Fireman Vince Steves.
Spanish sailor Anna Blanc bails out.
Mark.
Pascal.
Laurent.
Mark.
Yeah, let's put Griffin up too.
Pascal's body language seems to indicate that he wasn't particularly challenged by this wave.
Been doing some surfing as I was saying. Standup is no problem, but regular surfing... oh boy. Even though I'm sure it is part of the problem, I'm not even going to blame the stiffness of my foot. It's just that after almost three months of not surfing you just suck at it when you try it again. Tried Hookipa first and the patheticness of the attempt was mind blowing. South shore was much better, but still far from what I used to be able to do. Now. Should I be pissed off that I can't surf like I used to or happy that I'm finally able to surf again? The answer is too easy... bloody pissed off! :)
Jokes apart, being able to be in the water again is great. Those little waves on the south shore made me completely forget about the standup downwinders and the July race, maybe will do a few more in the weekend, waiting for the new south swell to show up. Midweek should be good. Not as big as I first thought (gale winds weren't as strong as forecasted), but hopefully we'll see some head highers on the Lahaina side. Let's see how I do with those.
Stay tuned for the second wave sailing report and aloha.
PS. Oh yeah, Italy put all that hard training to use right away. Seems like Daniele De Rossi will be selected as part of the Italian Diving team at the next Olympics. His interpretation was so convincing that even the Paraguay guy apologized thinking he really hit him...
There's one simple way shameful behaviors like these could be easily avoided by the FIFA: the use of replays. Even if not caught by the referee live, nowadays technology would easily allow the referee to review the action from many different angles on spot with a hand held device. NBA referees do that all the times (btw, yesterday's one was the worse final game ever!). And even if the referee doesn't catch it at all, the day after the game a specialized team should review each game and when they spot something like this, they should issue a one year suspension to the cheating player. Immediately all cheatings would stop. That simple.
PPS. KP did this video of the first the of the Pistol River wave contest in Oregon.
Good job Samantha for organizing a contest that seems to have grouped quite a few sailors despite the cold water and cross on conditions. Is this a sign that it's time for someone to try to organize a wave contest in Maui again? I think it's well overdue...
The waves have almost disappeared. And, the National Weather Service has popped my bubble of hope about that tropical system floundering off the Cape Verde Islands. Now it only has a 10% chance of survival. It's just as well, I suppose. I can only imagine what would happen if a storm raged up into the Gulf right now. Shudder. This whole oil disaster is making me wonder if it really isn't the end of days.
So, how did today begin? I will abbreviate it for your sake, if you are still reading. I want to write all this down so I can remember all the things that comprise a life.
Today was the day I was to meet someone my massage therapist set me up with. I hesitated to give her my number when she asked. She said he was lamenting the lack of women his age that surfed, that he could go surfing with. I am all about making life interesting, so I said okay.
He met me at the beach today, and so far, so good. He wasn't the hunchback of Notre Dame or anything, and I don't think he thought I was, either. Although, he did say he had a doctor's appointment at eleven, so I thought it might be a ploy to escape, just in case things turned out, well, not as expected. He looked a little like Pete Dooley, and we all know what a good-looking fellow he is! But, it was Pete Dooley with a country boy accent. Don't judge, woman. Many a North Carolina man has made a good friend or life mate.
I saw him carrying a classic board, looked like an eight footer (a Yater spoon). He said he had earned it for doing something at work at the power company where he has worked for 26 years. The waves were tiny, but he pointed out one peeling off, and said how beautiful it was out there, no one around. First thing that happens is he turns right around to go back in, telling me, "I'll be right back, I forgot to take out my hearing aid!" I smiled to myself. Classic. I am old, too, that's right. I had forgotten. We are two old surfers here.
He came back and caught a left. Ah, a goofy foot! We talked as we stood, holding onto our boards, in the cool water. He has kids, all grown, and we talked about them. Then, somehow, we got on the subject of the oil spill, and ended up getting really depressed without answers or solutions. It all feels so hopeless. He said it is so much worse than anyone ever let on. We talked about the animals, the fisherman, what is going to happen? He said he heard a representative from BP say that on a grand scale that it is really nothing. "Can you believe that?" he asked me. Insert blood boiling sounds here. We talked about humanity. He has a much bleaker outlook on it than I do.
Soon it was time to go, but not before a discussion about... his colostomy experience! I am tempted to just go get it over with, just for the twilight sleep part. This is what you talk about when you are in your fifties. We headed in around 10 am, so he could make his apparently for real doctor's appointment (skin check-up). We talked about how no one used sunscreen when we were kids, how we would surf all day, burn our lips, and do it again as soon as they healed up. Stupid.
He said he wanted to go surfing with me again on his next day off, and that's fine by me.
Then it was off to sell Ghost Books downtown in this hellish heat. I can do it! Let's hear it for summer jobs! Or, in my case, let's hear it for ANY job.
First stop, the Lighthouse Museum. The buyer wasn't in today, figures. I looked down to see a huge bear of a dog sitting in the middle of the floor, a thin, frail, old man gently bending over to pick up the end of its leash. As he stood back upright, he looked into my eyes and smiled sweetly at me. I had a little shock. Dang, that guy looks like George McGovern! I realized it really was, as the women behind the counter started talking about "George." "He climbs two steps at a time!" they said - about his lighthouse explorations. Apparently, he must have a summer home here.
Next stop, the Surf Inspired Cafe to shoot photos of my art for Heather.
Three people are sitting around a table outside, and one of them, this tall good-looking guy with pale blue eyes says, "Well, here she is, gorgeous woman, where have you been?" I recognized him, but at first was unsure when I had seen him last. He looked for all the world like Jeff Bridges, and I must say the moment was a bit compelling. But, little by little, the more he spoke, the past emerged and I wanted to escape. He began rattling off his story, and I recalled, oh yeah... the guy at the pier that remembered me from my surf shop days... I had some trouble recalling his name. And then the same story began to unravel, about the wife who had cheated on him with a younger man, how they had both tried to kill him. Again he showed me the bullet wound in his leg, and told me about finding religion (in prison?). Ugh. Er, excuse me, but I have an appointment.
That's enough for this old blog today. Let's just say that the last experience reminded me how people are hooked into things like cults and religions and even relationships. For a split second, before reality brought me back, I was in the clutches of a very charismatic man. He clearly is insane, somewhat, but he has his game so down, seems so intelligent and believable, that had I not known what I know, I might have fallen it for a day. He wanted two hours of my time to talk with me, whenever it was convenient. I thought about all the women he probably could trick, and has tricked, with his charms. God, he looked like Jeff Bridges at that moment... and he would not take his eyes off mine. I ended up leaving without even saying goodbye to him, after I spoke with the owner, I was so taken off guard and disturbed by this.
On the way home, this song's words jumped out at me.
I never expected to be in an open green field picking blueberries by a lake this morning. That's what I love about life. You never know what might happen next.
Tom called early. He had missed the fun little swell yesterday because he listened to the surf report. I kind of like the misleading reports. Most people won't bother with checking the surf for anomalies, so I can score more easily. Crumbs for the beggars, I say! I really enjoyed those crumbs yesterday.
The buoys were a bit smaller today, but Tom wanted to paddle out anyway. I said I'd join him. He was just going out to pick some blueberries from the field beside his house, would I like to pick some for myself? Dang, yes!
I scarfed down a bowl of Life with Publix blueberries, and then headed for his house. I'd never been there before. His house sits at the end of a long, bumpy dirt road just past the Crescent Beach bridge. What I discovered was that he had a little bit of Walden Pond going on, and not that far away from the ocean.
He built the rustic looking, two-story cabinish house himself. It sits in the middle of many acres, and has a lake next to it. He showed me around, and then we headed out for the blueberries. I never picked fresh ones before. I couldn't believe how they grow on trees. I thought they grew on bushes on the ground! This fact and the clusters were fascinating. He had a bunch of trees that we walked among, talking and picking the plump little globes of organic goodness. We got on the subject of animals, and I told him about the trailer for some documentary on animals and the meat industry that Colby had seen. Colby said it had disturbed him greatly. Joaquin Phoenix narrates it, and he said there was a graphic scene of a fox, skinned alive, just staring back at you, a mass of red and glossy flesh, trembling. He was having trouble getting the vision out of his head. I can't get the thought out of my head, either. Tom said he had been out fishing with some guys once, and a fox had come out of the woods, surprising them. He said it was walking oddly, swaying a bit. He said one of the guys walked to the back of his truck. In the bed of the truck were two guns and a crowbar. This "man" picked up the crowbar, and bludgeoned the fox to death.
I don't care what anyone says, people that can do these things need to be wiped off the face of this gift of a planet. Many atrocities occur every single day, due to people's justification of certain actions. It got very quiet out there in the blueberry field.
We decided to go surfing.
At Matanzas, it was smaller than yesterday, and not as clean. But, it was fun because there were still some glassy peelers, fairly green water, and my friends, Tom and Andy were there. Andy had a beautiful one, the wave was so green, his aqua board so gorgeous in color, his stall and relaxed stance in perfect harmony with the moment. We were having some fun, hooting for each other, as we practiced our corniest longboard-style moves!
The wind was a bit more variable today, and came onshore much earlier. All I can think about is what may be coming early next week, if that storm can stay alive and well out to sea...
I didn't expect to have as much fun as I did today. I had a surf lesson to give at 10 am, so I decided to mosey on down to Matanzas and check the waves there, since Andy said he had actually had fun there yesterday when I was at work.
As I walked along the top of the boardwalk, I could see little green lines peeling off like a point break, with only one guy out. It was only about thigh high, but the best shaped waves I have seen in some time. Pale green, groomed to perfection, they wedged up and sparkled in the sunshine.
I paddled out, excited about it, the beach deserted, the waves so perfectly formed that I could only imagine how good it would be if a real swell came along. We have our first tropical system brewing out there in the Atlantic, and just knowing that... everything seems that much better, somehow.
I had so much fun out there. It was wave after wave, little green tubes and tapered walls, with stingrays and dolphin darting here and there. Brian paddled out on the SUP, and I saw him get some good ones. He asked me if I wanted to try it, but it just doesn't interest me. I might like it, but it seems so bulky and awkward that I am not inspired to try. It seems good for paddling around on a river, but for waves... give me something that I can maneuver!
Soon, Tara, Eli, and Hope walked up the beach for Hope's first surf lesson. That kid was amazing! She charged, and stood up on nearly every single wave. I told her that this day was almost exactly like the first day I learned to surf. I told her it was forty-one years ago, nearly to the day. "You've surfed for forty-one years?" she asked, squinting up at me in the sun. "Yep," I said, "and I still feel like a kid every time I paddle out. Stoked!" She smiled, and caught another one, as I raised my arms in victory and watched her scream with delight.
I caught a few when she got tired, and watched a good surfer ride one and do some tricks. I even went back out after the lesson, as the wind was still offshore.
What an unexpected surprise today was. I would live it over again, any time, any day. I just wish Andy, Karen, and Bob had been out there, surfing with me.
HONOLULU - (Sunday, June 13, 2010) -- Stand-up paddling (SUP) came full circle back to its home of Waikiki, Hawaii, this weekend, surpassing every conceivable expectation with the ultimate combination of sport and lifestyle. Over 600 paddlers from around the world gathered for the inaugural Rainbow Sandals Gerry Lopez Battle of the Paddle Hawaii, presented by Quiksilver Waterman Collection, and thousands turned out to watch. When all was said and done, everyone had a story to tell.
The turquoise waters of Waikiki, and surreal backdrop of Diamond Head, were reminders of a time long ago, when the upright figure of Duke Kahanamoku riding a board first captured imaginations.
But it was Californian Danny Ching (Redondo Beach), 27, who captivated the crowd this time around, making a clean sweep of the 5-mile Elite Battle and the 10-mile Downwinder.
Above: Elite Race Excitement Photo: Pat Huber/Rainbow Sandals
In Saturday's Elite race, Ching was embroiled in a 5-mile battle royale with dark horse Australian paddler Travis Grant (Gold Coast). Punctuated by 19 buoy turns and two 75-yard beach sprints, their race ended in a sprint for the shoreline that left them separated by just 13 seconds after close to an hour and a half of dueling. He then overcame Sunday morning's fatigue to go on and win the 10-mile distance race.
"I didn't expect that at all," said Ching. "I was hoping to win one of the days but luckily it panned out for me. I definitely felt fatigued (in the distance race). But once I got out into the surf I was able to build a bit of a gap. I was figuring that would hold them off at the end because if you raced (the Elite race) you were going to have a hard time making the final push the last two miles.
"Sparky's Rainbow Sandal races are the best," said Ching. "He puts up the biggest prize purse, the best competitors and the biggest event. Everything about it is amazing."
Ching crossed the Elite race line in one hour, 22 minutes and 42 seconds to take win $5,000. He completed the 10-mile downwind race in 1 hour and 26 minutes for an added $1,100.
Grant, 27, finished the Elite race in 1:22:55 for $3,500; and veteran Hawaiian paddler Aaron Napoleon, 43, was third in 1:26:30 for $2,500. Jamie Mitchell (Australia), the most dominant paddleboarder in the world, was fourth in 1:27:00.
In the women's division, San Clemente's Candice Appleby took out the Elite battle, earning $2,500 with her time of 1:35:25. Second was Australian Shakira Westdorp. In the distance race, Maui's Andrea Moller took line honors.
Beyond the world's best, paddlers who participated this weekend ranged from pint-sized, surf-savy kids, to mothers, grand-mothers, and 72-year-old Frank Perna (Malibu, CA) - the oldest competitor of the weekend.
The Battle of the Paddle also featured exhibits, booths, clinics for children, relays for families, fun races and plenty of SUP sampling. There were spirit-moving cultural ceremonies, impassioned volunteers and priceless ocean-based programs like Na Kama Kai. But beneath it all, there was the pure and simple fun that Waikiki has famously offered the world for centuries.
In some ingenious way, Gerry Lopez, Jay "Sparky" Longley, and the families of Rainbow Sandals and Quiksilver Waterman Collection tied together all the best elements of the stand-up paddle lifestyle and presented them in an exciting, easy to grasp, 21st century framework. The total prize purse for the weekend was equally stunning: $25,000.
It takes a community to raise a lifestyle: Mahalo to the SUP families of Rainbow Sandals, Quiksilver Waterman Collection, Patagonia, Maui Jim Sunglasses, Outrigger Hotels & Resorts, Kona Brewing Co., DaKine, Duke's Waikiki, and Surftech, for bringing a new dawn of SUP to Waikiki Beach.
Aloha!
ELITE RACE - MEN'S TOP 10: 1 1 hour 22 minutes 42.3 seconds DANNY CHING (Redondo Beach, CA) 2 1:22:55.1 - TRAVIS GRANT (Queensland, Australia) 3 1:26:30.8 - AARON NAPOLEON (Waianae, HI) 4 1:27:00.6 - JAMIE MITCHELL (Queensland, Australia) 5 1:27:20.6 - BYRON KURT 6 1:27:23.1 - SCOTT GAMBLE 7 1:27:26.1 - SLATER TROUT (Maui, HI) 8 1:27:32.7 - CONNOR BAXTER (Maui, HI) 9 1:28:39.0 - MATT BECKER 10 1:28:47.4 - SEPA K. NAPOLEON
ELITE RACE - WOMEN'S TOP 5 1. 1:35:25.3 - CANDICE APPLEBY (San Clemente, CA/Honolulu, HI) 2. 1:36:35.2 - SHAKIRA WESTDORP (Queensland, Australia) 3. 1:37:51.6 - BRANDI BAKSIC (San Clemente, CA) 4. 1:41:30.2 - JENNY KALMBACH (Big Island, HI) 5. 1:41:50.9 - MORGAN HOESTEREY (Oahu, HI)
HAWAII KAI DISTANCE RACE MEN:
1st male: DANNY CHING (Redondo Beach, CA) 1st female: ANDREA MOLLER (Maui)
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Ok, that was the end of the press release, and since there's no official result on the race website, I'm going to unofficially add that Scott Gamble came second in the long distance (I think... I was helping a customer and I overheard that), while I'm sure that Connor Baxter came third.
So congrats to Andrea and Connor, but I was overly impressed by Danny Ching, who took the place of Jamie Mitchell as the new paddling machine to beat. Temporarily, I'd say... they will all have to deal with me and my ultra hi-tech Timpone 12.6 in July! :)
Oh, Italy is about to play their first game this morning. I'm quite excited, since the italians have been refining their unique skills with some pretty hard training lately. Check this out:
Fortunately, I was able to entertain myself with these photos, because the surfing, as usual, sucked. I can take knee high and clean or shoulder high and onshore, but not the two things (knee high and onshore) together. And that is what most of the times, unfortunately, Maui's south shore offers when the buoy is at 2 feet. Under the same conditions, Oahu offers shoulder high and offshore, that's why last year I went there and had a blast.
Fortunately, I can now see the first decent fetch in the south pacific maps. This one is forecasted to happen on Thursday June 17 and that means after one week we'll have a big south swell. Bigger than two feet at the buoy, so hopefully we'll see some energy in the water. I wouldn't get excited if I were you, since you never know with the south swells... but I am actually excited because it will hopefully be my return on a regular surfboard. Man, I hope I can still pop upright...
Very nice webcast of the Battle of the paddle yesterday from Waikiki (good job Bart, who came in before Mark, Scott and Livio!). Today's there's a "downwind" course. Start at 10am Hawaii time.
only found half a foot mini-peelers at Matanzas. The pier had 3/4 of a foot peelers, with a fisherman standing on the only sandbar that looked appealing. Blueberry pancakes seemed like a better idea. Meanwhile, in Nicaragua...
I was driving back from Andy's ramp after surfing today, thinking about how much had happened by 9 am. It all started when Andy and I launched the jet ski from the boat ramp at Lighthouse Park. We had a nice glide out to the entrance to the inlet, past the boat with the cats on it that we saw last night during Brie's birthday party tour boat ride at sunset. The waves weren't that good, small and weak. We decided to go grab the longboards and find a sandbar somewhere, just to get some exercise.
We flew back across the water, seeing a dolphin, or possibly a manatee, surface as we passed. The morning was busy with all manner of boats. Karen told me later that it was the Kingfish tournament today. Poor kingfish.
Andy dropped me off at my place, and I headed for the pier. But it, too, was small and uninspiring. I drove to his ramp, and saw a set of rights rifle off in the sun. I called Andy, and he said he was on his way.
It was worth it. We had some fun little peelers that were just big enough for us to roll along, smiling in the sunshine. We surfed for about an hour. The tide started going out, and we decided to go on in. As I drove home and looked at the clock, I noticed it was only 9 am. We had already done so much! I love mornings...
I could go into work late this morning. It was the last day of school for teachers. I decided to take a chance, and ride the bike out to the point. Bruce met me in pre-dawn darkness, on his way for his morning walk to the beach. He had the bike all ready for me, the pit crew extraordinaire!
I was the only person who felt it was worth it, apparently, as I surfed the entire time alone. It was weak, but light offshore winds had groomed it a bit. A few sets had me hooting, screaming that they were going unridden. They seemed to be about waist to chest high. The water was chilly, and chocolate brown, so this brought the overall desirability factor down. But, I never sat still. It was one wave after another, and as I rode back along the empty beach, I realized, again, why I love the mornings so much. The moment could be from any point in time in the past. The only tracks I saw on the way down were the set of turtle tracks that wound up to the dunes and then back down to the water again.
Oh, what a beautiful morning.
Time for: MOVIE REVIEW. I have been so busy with studying, I haven't been watching many films lately. Last night I watched another Ingmar Bergman film, "Wild Strawberries." If you love old, classic, black and white movies, this is not to be missed (1957). An aging professor travels by car for fourteen hours to receive an award for his years of teaching. He travels with his daughter-in-law across the countryside, reflecting on his life. He stops by his boyhood home, and memories come alive. It was beautifully filmed and acted. Lots of character study, with somber moments of reflection. I loved the sequence portraying his dream. He walks along a deserted street and suddenly a carriage, riderless, pulled by dark horses, comes around the bend. He watches as it passes, and sees it is carrying a casket. The horses haphazardly pull the carriage into a lamp post and it crashes. The coffin falls out and opens...
And now, you have to rent this to find out what happens. A very dark film, just the way I like them.
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