The Original Since 1960 Volume 58, Number 7
Underdogs
STAY WARMER
SURF ALL DAY
JACK FREESTONE
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Editor’s Note I felt like the odd man out sitting on the boil at Rockpile, flanked on either side by a half dozen pros known for rushing the heaviest Hawaiian surf. Seeing as how I’m known for writing things like this magazine intro from the safety of my San Diego office, and not for throwing myself over mutant ledges in front of a literal pile of rocks, I thought maybe I’d crashed the wrong party. There was one surfer, however, who seemed even more out of place among the logo-clad surfing elite. An anonymous, middle-aged man had paddled through the gauntlet of pros earlier in the session, wearing a helmet and a bulky life vest, on an oversized board that had “garage-sale find” written all over it. He had moved well past the pack on the boil, lining up some 20 yards outside where not a single wave had broken all morning. He sat there for about an hour, occasionally looking back to check his lineup, otherwise simply staring out to sea. Then, suddenly, an enormous, shifty peak formed out the back and began lurching straight toward him. As the surfers sitting inside scrambled to get out of the way, this unknown, helmet-and-jacketclad, seemingly kooky surfer pointed his nose toward shore, took a few hard strokes and confidently backdoored the biggest, longest barrel that anyone — sponsored or otherwise — had ridden at Rockpile that day. That just might be the very best part about surfing. It doesn’t matter what brand of boardshorts you’re wearing, what dusty garage you dug your board out of or whether or not there’s a sticker on its nose. If you’re in the right spot and know what you’re doing, you’ll always have a shot at getting the wave of the day, whether you’re a multiple world-title holder with millions of social media followers or a nine-to-fiver with a flip phone. The ocean doesn’t play favorites. For this issue, we took aim at stories of surfing’s underdogs: people who weren’t necessarily sponsored from a young age, or touted as “the next big thing” by pro-surf pundits, but have managed to carve fascinating paths in surfing nonetheless. Take the Chinese National Surf Team, for example, which is filled with novice surfers cherry-picked by the Chinese government with the long-shot goal of getting a Chinese surfer on an Olympic podium in 2020 (“Golden Aspirations,” pg. 40). Or the
Rockpile, Hawaii. Photo by ELLIS
rapid ascent of Connor O’Leary, a surfer who most of us had never even heard of until he broke into the World Tour ranks and tore straight into the top 10 (“The Anonymous Contender,” pg. 58). Of all the underdogs we spotlight in this issue, perhaps none have done more impressive surfing while remaining in relative obscurity than a group of unhinged, blue-collar slab surfers from Australia (“Clock In, Clock Out, Pull In,” pg. 66). Surfers like Justen “Jughead” Allport, Mick Corbett and James Holmer-Cross don’t have big-ticket sponsors, but rather work day in and day out as a firefighter, electrician and house painter, respectively. They aren’t getting rich or famous for putting their lives on the line when hideous purple blobs pop up on the swell charts, but when they come flying out of some godforsaken cave in a euphoric cloud of spit, something tells me the last thing on their 10
minds is the size of their Instagram following. Which brings us back to Rockpile and the random charger standing in a carport-sized barrel. It was such a phenomenal wave that it electrified the lineup, with a few surfers hooting even as they ditched their boards and prepared to get throttled by the steamrolling whitewater. I took the wave on the head, got washed inside and probably looked like a half-drowned dog by the time I got back outside. But something changed in the lineup after that wave. The conditions were the same, and there were just as many pros on the boil, but it all seemed much less intimidating — like this whole surfing thing is anyone’s game.
TODD PRODANOVICH, Editor
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Masthead Editor
Contributing Editors
TODD PRODANOVICH
Ray Bergman, Steve Hawk
Photo Editor
Senior Writers
GRANT ELLIS
DONNY STEVENS
Sean Doherty, Steve Barilotti, William Finnegan, Matt George, Sam George, Derek Hynd, Janna Irons, Drew Kampion, Ben Marcus, Brad Melekian, Jeff Mull, Joel Patterson, Lewis Samuels, Gabe Sullivan, Kimball Taylor, Matt Warshaw
Digital Director
Contributing Writers
PETER TARAS
JUSTIN HOUSMAN
Will Bendix, Chris Dixon, Rob Gilley, Bruce Jenkins, Andrew Lewis, Andrew Kidman, Maxwell Klinger, Shea Lopez, Kirk Owers, Dave Parmenter, Harrison Roach, Matthew Shaw, Ben Weiland
Managing Editor
Surfer Photographers
ASHTYN DOUGLAS
Ryan “Chachi” Craig, Todd Glaser
Online Editor
Senior Photographers
DAVIS JONES
ADAM JARA
Erik Aeder, Kirk Lee Aeder, Bernie Baker, Chris Burkard, Jason Childs, Jeff Divine, Steve Fitzpatrick, Jon Frank, Pete Frieden, Anthony Ghiglia, Rob Gilley, Dylan Gordon, Ted Grambeau, Tony Heff, Peter “Joli” Wilson, Rob Keith, Jason Kenworthy, Kin Kimoto, Nick Lavecchia, Morgan Maassen, Tim McKenna, Dick Meseroll, Mike Moir, Jason Murray, Brian Nevins, Zak Noyle, Yassine Ouhilal, Frank Quirarte, Jim Russi, Daniel Russo, Tom Servais, William Sharp, Andrew Shield, Bernard Testemale, Patrick Trefz, Alan Van Gysen, J.P. Van Swae
Field Editor
Contributing Photographers
ZANDER MORTON
Branden Aroyan, Don Balch, Cole Barash, John S. Callahan, Tom Carey, Sylvain Cazenave, Mike Coots, Ray Collins, Donald Cresitello, Juan Fernandez, Mike Findlay, Ryan Foley, Russ Hennings, Pete Hodgson, Devon Howard, Kenny Hurtado, Timo Jarvinen, Matt Lusk, Myles McGuinness, Don Montgomery, Naki, Mike Nelson, James Parry, Dane Peterson, Mike Smolowe, Bryan Soderlind, David Sparkes, Ben Thouard
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Features Editor
Video Director ALEX KILAUANO
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Social Media Manager
Copy Editor KIM STRAVERS
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Lining Up
“To me, surfing has always felt like a way of life instead of a sport, but success comes the same way in both—with passion and determination.”
— Mikala Jones
17
New Zealand. Photo by ESTRADA 18
Contents
Underdogs
Volume 58, Number 7
Golden Aspirations
Sections
China isn’t known for producing worldclass surfers, but with surfing’s inclusion in the 2020 Olympics, the government will do whatever it takes to create a medal-winning team
28 30 32 36
Cult of the One True Fin With the fervor of a tent revival, an international crew of single-fin evangelists assembles in Indonesia to push the limits of classic logs
38 86 96
Corndogging Slater’s Final World Title To-Do List Creators A Silver Bullet for Board-Bag Fees? Archive 1998’s Underdog Title Race Wisdom Keala Kennelly, 39, Kauai Culture Why Do We Talk Like Surfers, Anyway? The 2017 Holiday Gift Guide This Season’s Best Surf Gear Perfect Day New Zealand
The Anonymous Contender Until recently, 23-year-old Connor O’Leary lived in relative obscurity, working at a surf shop and teaching surf lessons at his home break. Now he’s beating his heroes on surfing’s biggest stage
Clock In, Clock Out, Pull In Most of Australia’s hardest-charging slab surfers don’t call chasing terrifying waves a career. They call it a vacation
Pacific Rapture Moments of liquid bliss from California, Tahiti, New Zealand and beyond
On the cover: William Aliotti may not be the first name that comes to mind when thinking about Teahupoo’s hardest-charging heavyweights. But luckily for the St. Martin–born surfer, you don’t need worldwide acclaim to get a cover-worthy shot. You just need to possess the right amount of skill and be in the right place at the right time. Photo by BEN THOUARD 19
PSI (Personal Surf Infl ation) Vest
Preserving waves, promoting safety
Working with many of the world’s best big wave riders, we spent over fi ve years developing and testing our PSI (Personal Surf Inflation) Vest. The vest was designed to provide four rapid inflations for maximum safety in the XXL surf. Additional key innovations include a dump valve for quick deflation and a unique bladder design that is shaped to encourage face-up water flotation. Now available to surfers certified by the Big Wave Risk Assessment Group (BWRAG), we received a U.S. patent for our innovative technology in 2014. By sharing this technology with the industry in return for licensing fees that will go toward helping the Fundación Punta de Lobos, we are helping to protect this threatened iconic surf spot on the Chilean coast.
Punta de Lobos, Chile. PHILIP MULLER © 2017 Patagonia, Inc.
KANOA IGARASHI
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Slater’s Final World Title To-Do List
Corndogging Ñ
By TODD PRODANOVICH
Dated Nov. 9, 2011, the day after winning his 11th world title
In a rush to gather his things from the competitors’ area at Jeffreys Bay after breaking his foot, 11-time world champion Kelly Slater accidentally left behind a small piece of yellow notebook paper titled “Last One: To-Do List.” From the contents of the note, it seems that Slater is in fact talking about another world title — the grand finale of the GOAT’s career. Here is a scanned image of his list. (Warning: Spoilers ahead.)
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Traveling Light
Creators Ñ
By ZANDER MORTON
With their new board-sharing platform Awayco, Ace Buchan and friends want to bring the travel quiver to you
(Left, above) Awayco’s creator, World Tour veteran Ace Buchan. Photos by MILLER
This is how lugging boards abroad has played out since the beginning of surf travel: Figure out what kind of quiver to bring on your trip, stuff it into an oversized bag, haul it to the airport … and have a panic attack. “How much will they charge me?” you wonder. “Will the boards arrive in one piece?” At the check-in counter, the agent slaps you with an arbitrary charge, starting your trip off on a decidedly bad foot. “Six hundred dollars for four boards? That’s the price of my ticket!” Tour veteran Adrian “Ace” Buchan wants to put an end to the madness. Six months ago, he and his friend Gideon Silverman had an idea, and they realized that with Buchan’s industry connections and Silverman’s technical chops (he was a product manager at Google at the time), they could change the way surfers travel. “We’re trying to do two things with Awayco,” Buchan says of his surfy start-up. “Provide an option for board-less travel and give people the ability to try boards before they buy. I was just in New York without a board. The waves
were fun, and I wanted to surf, but I couldn’t access a good surfboard. That’s the problem we’re trying to solve.” Awayco partners with existing surf shops and manufacturers (like JS, Channel Islands, Firewire and Haydenshapes) to provide an inventory of boards in all shapes and sizes, catering to surfers of all levels. Awayco members can go to any partner shop, with a growing number of locations in surf hubs around the world, and pick up a quality board at any time. (Boards will also be searchable online and can be reserved in advance.) The price of membership is $60 per month, which lets you ride as many boards as you want and gives you damage protection in case you ding your borrowed craft. Awayco’s soft launch is focused on California, Australia and Bali. While there are plans to roll out worldwide soon, Buchan figures they’ll certainly have some kinks to iron out before then. “There are a lot of moving parts when trying to build a successful business, and there are days 30
when it’s overwhelming — when I’m tired from walking the halls at home with my 3-month-old at 2 a.m., or from training and surfing to get ready for an event — but it’s been a really fun challenge,” says Buchan. “The team we’ve assembled over the last six months is truly world class. And it’s been exciting to see the interest we’ve generated from some big venture capitalists.” While his career on the World Tour is still in sharp focus at the moment, Buchan sees growing Awayco as a logical next step for when he eventually moves away from full-time competition. “When I started thinking seriously about starting Awayco, I considered three things: Am I passionate about it? Am I helping people? Am I helping solve a problem? With Awayco it all made sense, and hopefully it will be successful. I’ve been lucky enough to do something I’m passionate about for a long time, and I think you can see that in the way I’ve surfed on Tour for the last 10 years. Now I want to take that passion and drive into the next chapter of my life.” S
Come together with Kala.
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Blood, Sweat and Tears
Archive Ñ
By JUSTIN HOUSMAN
The year Aussie upstarts Danny Wills and Mick Campbell almost shocked the world and derailed Kelly Slater’s ’90s world-title spree, from SURFER Volume 40, Number 5
Look at the two fresh-faced Aussie pros in the above profile from May 1999. Danny Wills and Mick Campbell had just wrapped an astonishing year on the World Tour, streaked into the pro surf scene like meteors in 1998, shone as bright as suns, and they did it against some of the all-time greatest competitors, no less. World-title races in the 1990s were not exactly kind to lesser-known competitors. The decade was bookended by Tom Curren winning his third and last championship (1990) and Occy winning his first (1999). In between, Kelly Slater won six titles, Damien Hardman picked up his second and Derek Ho brought the trophy home for Hawaii. Just a step or two below these heavyweights on the podium were names like Rob Machado, Shane Beschen and Sunny Garcia. A first-ballot Hall of Famer, every single one of them. So yeah, it was a tough decade for any underdog with world-title aspirations. But in 1998, Campbell and Wills fell seemingly from the sky and nearly snatched the world title from King Kelly’s surf championship vault. Campbell and Wills finished second and third that charmed year and both seemed certain to be crowned champ at various points in the season. Campbell lost the title to Slater at the season-ending Pipe Masters, falling short of the champ’s year-end point total by a mere 38 points (the closest finish in World Tour history).
Had Campbell simply advanced through one more heat at any point in the season there’d be a strange, freckle-covered blip on the otherwise star-studded list of ’90s champions. Their paths from underdogs to relative stardom were quite different. Campbell’s ascendance came late in the season like a brazen racehorse charging around the final bend in the oval, thundering down the stretch, but tiring within spitting distance of the finish line. He’d been named ASP Rookie of the Year in 1997, but nobody — except for Campbell himself, maybe — expected that he’d be challenging the best in the sport just one year later. He was a ferocious competitor who out-gritted and out-wanted his opponents; hell, he went as far as coldcocking Andy Irons after a hard-surfed event in France in 2000. Willsy, on the other hand, finished the 1997 campaign ranked a distant 33rd, but exploded out of the gates the following year. For four months, he had a seemingly iron grip on the ratings lead. Fresh-faced with teen-heartthrob looks and a humble disposition, he was the feelgood dark-horse candidate to bump Slater from yet another championship. Wills had more natural surfing ability than Campbell — fast and decisive, while also smooth and controlled — but not otherworldly. Even if you remember his storied ’98 season, it’s probably his out-ofnowhere title push that stands out rather than 32
his actual surfing. Even if their surfing didn’t cause any seismic shifts, their approach to competition may have. Wills and Campbell trained with legendary rugby drill sergeant Rob Rowland-Smith, who, before he coached surfers, was the conditioning coach of the Australian Rugby League club Parramatta Eels. Wills and Campbell showed up every day to pump (rusted) iron and do endless cardio in Rowland-Smith’s tiny, Spartan backyard training compound in Newport Beach, New South Wales. They guessed that if they wanted to beat the most naturally talented surfers on Earth, it could only help to be the fittest, most shredded surfers on Earth, setting a new training standard for touring pros. “If not for these guys [Wills and Campbell], the 1998 WCT would have been soft,” said Derek Hynd, who wrote the above profile. “They took ten square yards of blood, sweat, and tears to the world’s best pros and many didn’t anticipate the damage.” Wills and Campbell, running on pure willpower and a foundation of bad-assery drilled into them by Rowland-Smith, gave fans of underdogs a welcome thrill in 1998. Even though they came up short of a title, the duo helped pave the way for the surfer/athlete who would dominate the coming decades of World Tour competition. S
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Big-Wave Surfer Kauai, Hawaii
As told to ASHTYN DOUGLAS
“You have no idea what you are capable of until you challenge yourself. You are so much stronger than you think.”
Sometimes girls feel like they have to prove themselves. Growing up on Kauai, I felt like the guys were especially hard on me because I was a girl. Even when I would do something awesome, they wouldn’t give me a lot of credit for it. But when we got a little older, that all changed. You have to be scrappy and resilient when you’re the underdog. Having that mentality is always beneficial, because life will throw shit at you. When someone is critical of you when you’re young, it can leave a really negative mark. I was told so many discouraging things as a grom. I’ve been called everything from loser to ugly, dyke and tomboy and was told I couldn’t do things because I was a girl. I wish I could say that those things didn’t have an effect on me, but they did. Even though I acted really tough, I was a sensitive little girl and I took everything the boys said to heart. Things have improved a lot for the Women’s Tour. The events have improved, there is a lot more prize money now and I feel like the women are getting a lot more respect. There are still a lot of really talented female athletes without sponsors, though. In an ideal world, women’s big-wave surfing would look a lot like the Pe’ahi Challenge last year — except with a bigger prize purse and all of the top female big-wave surfers would have major sponsors.
When it comes to finding sponsorship, my advice to female surfers is to be a role model for other women. You can play up your sexiness and try to be as appealing as you can to the male demographic or you can be like Carissa Moore and stay true to who you are and not let your surfing talent take a back seat. One of these days, brands are going to realize that sex isn’t the only thing that sells. If you’re gay, come out when you’re ready to come out, but come out before it kills you. It’s hard for athletes in the public eye to come out. I don’t judge athletes who want to remain in the closet; I’ve been there and I know the internal struggle they might be going through every second of every day. But I wish I could have come out earlier so I could’ve been a positive role model for LGBT people sooner. Not being true to yourself and hiding who you are erodes your soul in an indescribable way. When you can finally be true to who you are, it is one of the most freeing feelings you will ever experience in your life. I wouldn’t trade that for all the sponsorship dollars in the world. You have no idea what you are capable of until you challenge yourself. You are so much stronger than you think. The fear of missing out is far scarier than facing a fear. I was terrified to go back to Teahupoo after destroying my face on the reef there, but the thought of not going back and being 36
able to experience that wave again became far more than I could live comfortably with. The big-wave community is different from the rest of the surfing community. As big-wave surfers, we put ourselves in life-threatening situations and it’s something we all experience together. I think it makes us closer. Just like soldiers who fight in a battle together, there is an unspoken pact between us that I don’t think average surfers experience. The best part of big-wave surfing is the moment when all your senses are engaged. Putting yourself in a life-threatening situation forces you to be totally and completely present and makes you feel like you are one with the universe for a split second. I have never been able to get to that place any other way. There’s nothing quite like that rush you get from paddling into a wave the size of a two-story house. I think the glass ceiling shattered when Billabong gave Barrel of the Year to a woman. When they called my name, I think the exact thought I had in that moment was, “They are actually going to let me win this thing!” Not because I didn’t think I deserved it, but I wasn’t sure if they would actually allow a woman to beat all the men. I think there was a part of me that reverted back to my childhood and expected the boys to not give me the credit I deserved. But I realized that I’m not dealing with insecure little boys anymore.
Photo by HOOK 37
38
Surfspeak
Culture Ñ
By JUSTIN HOUSMAN
Why do we talk like surfers, anyway?
Do you have other interests besides surfing? Other life-consuming hobbies or sports, complete with their own unique cultures, charmingly peculiar vocabularies, verbal signifiers of who’s part of the in crowd and who’s not? Can you move freely between the languages of surf and your other interests? I ask because I’ve spent the past few years spiraling deeply down the fly-fishing rabbit hole. Surely fly-fishing has a codified lingo, a jargon indecipherable to the outsider that immediately separates the newbs (me) from the long-timers (Ted, the fly-shop dude). But if it does, I have yet to learn it. When I walk into a fly-shop (which, by the way, does not feel all that different from a surf shop — neoprene-footed waders even give the place a rubbery, surf-shop odor), my vocabulary and way of speaking do not immediately devolve to sound like 11th-grade Jeff Spicoli. “Hey, dude, where’d you get those epic elk-hair caddises?” is not a thing I’ve ever said. But, as my wife likes to point out, that is exactly what happens when I stroll into a surf shop, flipflops slapping my heels. I hadn’t really thought much about this until I caught myself Spicoli-ing away in the lineup the other day. A 40-something guy was paddling toward me just as I kicked out of a head-high runner. The surf zone was full of glassy, crossed-up peaks, typical of a glorious late-summer/early fall day in Northern California. “Yew! That was a sick one,” the guy said to me as we both paddled for the horizon. “Ya, dude, super fun,” I responded. “Some wedge-y little nugs out here for sure.” I didn’t know this man, had never seen him before in my life. And yet: wedge-y little nugs? We were two grown men talking like Strider in the …Lost movies. “Shit,” I thought. “My wife was right.” When I got out of the water and
walked back to my truck, I noticed that my new buddy was toweling off a few cars over. I’m just a regular schlub slacking off in the middle of the day from a job writing about surfing, so it makes at least a little bit of sense I’d pepper my speech with words like “nugs,” but he was driving a very new and very nice Audi SUV with a sticker advertising a snooty private high school where he must send his kids. Presumably, he was a very-good-jobhaving dude. And even he began a conversation with a stranger with the term “yew.” What does it all mean? Why are so many members of the surf community so quick to lapse into only slightly more articulate versions of the “so pitted” guy from YouTube? When you think about it, there aren’t any obvious reasons why surfers would tend toward infantilizing their language around each other. But we do (or maybe you don’t, and that’s fine and I’m very impressed, but at least a whole lot of us do). And the reason we do probably has something to do with “groupspeak.” Academics use the term to describe the weird lingo of members of little subcultures. Jargon is part of it, but groupspeak is also the tone and mannerisms of the way a group talks. I asked Dr. Matt Warshaw, chair of the history department at Encyclopedia of Surfing University, about groupspeak within the surf community and why our version often has us sounding like total rubes. Are we dumbing ourselves down when we drop terms like “sick,” “yew” or “bowly ones” into casual parking-lot or surf-shop counter talk? “I don’t think of it as dumbing down,” says Warshaw. “It’s nice. It’s polite. Without trying or thinking about it, you’re looking for the easiest way to communicate. It’s connecting with another person any way you can, at any level 39
you can, on whatever subject you have in common at the moment: the weather, your last session, the other guy’s last session. Maybe at some point you bump it up a level — probably not. But you start somewhere. Maybe the transcript of your conversation is boring as hell, but that’s not the point. The surfer in you has bowed to the surfer in the other guy or girl.” And that lovely, nonjudgmental response is about as perfect a description of groupspeak as any sociologist could come up with. Just a couple of surfers speaking the same surfy language, because though we may not know anything else about each other’s background, we know we’ll connect in our shared surf language at least, even if none of that is a conscious decision. It’s a nice little moment. There’s another little sociological element at play in a “Dude, looks sick” exchange between two grown men in the middle of the day: code-switching. The sketch show “Key & Peele” was practically built on the concept — people with one foot in two different cultural worlds switching from one language to another based on whatever social situation they’re in, mostly in order to fit in or to show they belong. I don’t talk like Spicoli when I go to the bank or meet my wife’s boss or enter some other normal adult situation in my life. But the moment I meet another surfer? Boom, the “sicks” and “epics” come flying. Part of it is the bowing to the surfer in the other guy or girl, just as Warshaw said, but another part of it is not wanting to seem like an outsider, to let other surfers around us know that yeah, dude, we’re cool. And maybe there’s nothing wrong with that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to figure out how to bow to the other fly-fisherman. Can’t have fly-shop Ted thinking I’m a kook, or whatever the hell a fly-fisherman would call it. S
China isn’t known for producing worldclass surfers, but with surfing’s inclusion in the 2020 Olympics, the government will do whatever it takes to create a medal-winning team By ASHTYN DOUGLAS
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(Clockwise from top left) Huang Yige, Lin Tianzhi, Dong Keying, Huang Moyu, Zhu Yan, Peter Townend, Zhao Yuan Hong, Qiu Zhuo. Photos: ELLIS
GOLDEN ASPIRATIONS
IT was just past 11 a.m. a few weeks before the start of the Hurley Pro, and a solid south swell was producing overhead sets at Lower Trestles. The air was hot and sticky and the lineup was crowded, looking like a tepid pool dotted with gnats between sets. As I stood near the water’s edge, I watched Gabriel Medina, Ian Gouveia and Filipe Toledo trade lefts in preparation for the upcoming World Tour event. But it wasn’t Brazil’s best that brought me to the cobblestone break. I was there to meet the pride of another nation — one seldom mentioned in discussions about top-tier surfing. Conversations in Mandarin filled the air as seven visiting Chinese surfers — three women and four men, ranging from 14 to 27 years old — sat to my left and right, watching a set pour through the lineup. A few of the surfers, already in their wetsuits, began a coordinated stretching routine. Two of the youngest boys, Qiu Zhuo and Huang Yige, stood next to each other, letting out ahhs of approval each time Medina or Gouveia smacked the lip and sent buckets of water skyward. One of the teenage girls, seemingly uninterested in the action in the water, was crouched over, drawing in the sand with a discarded tree branch. Unlike Brazil, Australia or the United States, China isn’t exactly what you’d call a surfing powerhouse. In fact, before the 2010s, they were completely absent in almost all forms of competitive surfing outside of small domestic events or a few international longboarding contests. Among the almost 600 million people living along China’s coastline (the country’s entire population is 1.3 billion), only a couple hundred surfers exist, and almost all of them caught their first wave less than a decade ago. So when the International Olympic Committee (IOC) announced the inclusion of surfing in the 2020 Olympics in Tokyo back in August of 2016, the Chinese government decided to take drastic action to prepare a handful of surfers for the international stage. Standing a few feet away, characteristically clad in a pink ensemble and futzing with an oversized Nike beach umbrella, was 65-year-old 1976 world champion Peter Townend. The day after the Olympics announcement was made, Townend was contacted by the Chinese government. A few months later, the first-ever Chinese National Surf Team was formed. Since the waves in China are typically flat during the summer, Townend had this small subset of the team — the ones with the highest chances of qualifying for the Olympics — fly out to California for a few weeks of training. With the umbrella firmly planted, Townend could focus on the larger task at hand — namely, helping the Chinese surfers figure out one of the most competitive lineups in California. “Pablo!” Townend shouted, using the nickname of his assistant coach and translator, Huang Moyu. “Tell them to paddle around the left so they don’t get swept down the beach.” Huang, one of the first generation of Chinese surfers, translated Townend’s advice for some of the younger kids, gesturing toward the lineup before grabbing his board and slowly heading out into the water. I asked Townend if he’s learned any Mandarin since becoming coach. “Only to order a beer!” he replied. Sitting on a towel behind me, 27-year-old Zhu Yan was waxing up her board, her face caked in sunscreen and her chin-length bob pulled back behind her ears. According to Townend, Zhu is currently the best female shortboarder in China. But like many on the national team, Zhu didn’t grow up surfing. She was raised in a small town near Yueyang, almost 600 miles from the coast, and had never even seen the ocean until 2013, when, fed up with her cubicle-bound online marketing job, she decided to take a vacation. She Googled “surfing in China” and found a club in Hainan — a Waikiki-like island off the southeast coast of the country — that taught surf lessons.
“I started surfing and met my boyfriend there,” Zhu recalled. “So I quit my job, went back to pack all my stuff and flew back to Hainan.” Zhu started working at the local surf club and spent all her free time figuring her way around a longboard on the gentle, palm-tree-lined waves of Riyue Bay. She joined the small yet growing population of surfers who, like her, felt unfulfilled by their careers and preferred the simple life of riding waves and making just enough money to live near the beach. Zhu loved her new surf-centric life, but her family wasn’t thrilled about her career change. “Every time I went home, everyone in the city, including my parents, just looked at me strange because I’m too tan,” she said. “In my city, all the girls are white. I had never seen someone get tanned like me before.” One of the reasons surfing in China remains on the fringe is a culturally ingrained belief that having a tan is a sign of needing to work outdoors as a laborer and therefore being a member of a lower socioeconomic class. “When most people go to the beach, they have their faces covered. They don’t enjoy the sun. Some people will wear hats; others wear those face bikinis,” said Zhu, referring to something resembling a rubber ski mask sometimes worn by Chinese beachgoers. Another reason surfing remains largely unpopular in China — despite the many waves dotting its long coastline and its receptiveness to typhoon swells — is that older generations always viewed the ocean as a dangerous, uncontrollable entity and forbid their children from swimming past the shallows. Zhu switched to shortboarding earlier this year when she heard the Olympic event won’t have a longboarding division. She admitted that she was chosen for the team because there are so few women in China who surf, and that in comparison to the surfers she watched flying above the lip at Lowers, she’s still very much a beginner. “I’ve been wondering if other surfers are already so good, why we even started the team,” she said. “I’m not sure we can even get into the Olympics because these guys are so amazing.” As I watched Zhu nervously paddle out into the lineup and catch her first few waves, linking shaky mid-face bottom turns with a couple of awkward redirects, I also wondered if a handful of fledgling surfers could actually become Olympic medalists in the span of three short years. Is it possible, in a sport that typically takes decades to master, that a beginner surfer can be coached into performing as well as internationally acclaimed athletes, many of whom were pushed into waves before they could even walk? TOWNEND is no stranger to being in a coaching role. After becoming surfing’s first world champion, in 1976, and raising eyebrows at surf events with his velour jumpsuit as part of the Bronzed Aussies, he spent the subsequent decades training the likes of Tom Curren, Brad Gerlach, Mike Parsons and Courtney Conlogue as head coach of the National Scholastic Surfing Association (NSSA) and USA Junior teams. Helping World Tour–bound surfers refine their natural skills was one thing, but teaching a group of late learners the basics of wave riding has proved to be quite the challenge. After the national team was selected in March, Townend spent the next two months in Hainan. The team received a stipend from the Chinese government and was moved into the Forest Inn overlooking Riyue Bay to begin training together full-time. Not long after, the government began construction on a high-performance training center, commissioned specifically for the developing surf team. Out at Riyue Bay or other nearby sand-bottom pointbreaks, Townend had the team surfing as much as possible. When the waves were small, 41
ONE of the most challenging parts of Townend’s new position has been adapting to China’s centralized sports system — an infrastructure that was designed solely to churn out as many Olympic gold medalists as possible. Here in the Unites States, sports are developed at a grassroots level through organizations like Little League or the NSSA. But in China, all aspects of athletics are controlled in a top-down manner by the government under the General Administration of Sport. In the past, sports participation was never an important part of Chinese society. It wasn’t until 1932 that China entered its first athlete in the Olympics, and they remained underdogs for many years after. According to Xu Guoqi, author of “Olympic Dreams: China and Sports, 1895-2008,” in 1979, the government decided to create a state-run institution that would act as a production line of gold-medal athletes. “They were determined to use sports to project an image of a strong and powerful China,” Xu told me over email. “So they developed centralized sports management to achieve as many gold medals in international sports programs [as possible].” In the decades since, China has adopted a Soviet style of athletic development, building thousands of “sports schools” around the country to train and mold children into world-class athletes. Government officials traveled to cities far and wide, recruiting children, some as young as 4 years old, with specific physical attributes and enrolling them in these training institutes to focus on the sports they seemed best suited for. Now there are an estimated 400,000 children enrolled in sports schools throughout the country. In previous years, various international media outlets have released footage from inside these schools, showing tiny gymnasts or swimmers training for 10 hours each day. Back in 2008, a reporter for Time magazine went to the Weifang City Sports School to interview some of its athletes. Chen Yun, a then14-year-old daughter of a vegetable vendor in Shandong province, told the reporter that she was selected by recruiters to be a weight lifter based on her shoulder width, thigh length and waist size. Before that, the young girl had no idea what weight lifting was. Depending on whom you talk to, this regimented style of manufacturing gold medalists may have loosened up over the last few years. But in Townend’s eyes, the expectation of the General Administration of Sport is that their funding of a national surf team will increase their overall medal count in 2020 and beyond — and they’re already developing metrics to decide how to recruit future surfers. When he was first interviewed for the coaching position, Townend sat down for a formal dinner with one of the key officials in the General Administration of Sport. “He looked at me and, through a translator, said, ‘How are we going to get any good at this?’” Townend remembers. “And my answer was, ‘We have to learn how to swim first.’” Townend was speaking metaphorically, meaning that they needed to grasp the fundamentals before thinking about winning any medals, but the official took it literally. He took Townend to Hangzhou, a populated city near Shanghai and home to China’s No. 1 swim academy. He walked him past the school’s natatorium and into the basketball gymnasium, where about 20 of the school’s top teenage swimmers were standing. Most of them had never even seen a breaking wave before, but the official asked Townend to figure out which ones could potentially be groomed into brilliant surfers. With no ocean nearby, Townend put a surfboard onto a mat and told each kid to jump to his or her feet. “If they stood up with one foot forward, then I knew they had some idea, whether from skateboarding or snowboarding. But if they jumped up parallel, then I knew they didn’t understand,” he said. He then had them roll around on a skateboard to measure their balance.
(Above) While he still has a long way to go before he can contend with world-class surfers, 14-year-old Qui Zhou is China’s best bet at making the Olympic podium in the near future. Photo by VARGAS
he’d run various paddle drills in order to build their stamina. But, more than anything, Townend, channeling John Candy in “Cool Runnings,” spent most of his time teaching them the ABCs of technique and wave selection. According to Glenn Brumage, a business consultant at Wabsono International (a company working to grow China’s action-sports industry) and a friend of Townend, most of the surfers had a difficult time assessing their own skill levels. “Their biggest challenge was that what they saw of themselves in photos and video wasn’t necessarily translating into how they’re actually surfing,” Brumage told me over the phone. “They would swish their board around a lot and would think that what they were doing was the same thing the pros were doing. They couldn’t see the nuances — that other surfers were on their rail. PT would have to show a photo of one of them next to a photo of Mick Fanning and say, ‘See this turn? Look at your turn; what do you see that’s different?’ He’s really having to take it down to the basis of what performance surfing is.” Townend showed me a few laminated photos that he uses during lectures for the team. On one, there’s a grainy split image of Kelly Slater on the left and Courtney Conlogue on the right. Both are doing vertical hacks, Slater on his forehand, Conlogue going left on her backhand. “IF YOU WANT TO SCORE POINTS, YOU MUST GET VERT!” is printed in big block letters at the top of the photos. “I realized that they’re really starting from ground zero,” said Townend. “They’ve had no surfing role models, no SURFER magazine to look at and study. They’re really starting from the basics and they’ve already developed some bad habits. Besides the surfing itself, they also really have no idea how to compete. There’s no competition structure like the NSSA or Surfing America for young people in China.” In May, Townend took a small portion of the team to the International Surfing Association’s World Surfing Games in Biarritz, France, which turned out to be an eye-opening experience for the Chinese surfers. On the morning of the first day of competition, the team stood on the shores of La Grande Plage in their red, white and yellow uniforms, looking out at the punchy French beachbreaks in front of them. Many of them squeezed into wetsuits for the first time in their lives and paddled out for their Round 1 heats in chunky, wind-torn waves — some of the most difficult conditions many of them had ever dealt with. No one from their team continued on to Round 2. One member of the team couldn’t make it past the whitewater. 42
(Left) China’s lack of world-class surf talent isn’t from a lack of quality surf. Hainan, case in point. Photo by CALLAHAN (Above) Coach Peter Townend, leading the future of Chinese surfing down to Trestles for a training session at Lowers. Photo by ELLIS
an air reverse.” Excited by the proposition, Qiu began sprinting down to the water, but he tripped in the sand on the way down, landing on all fours and sending the rest of the team into a fit of laughter. Qiu is easily the most talented surfer among the bunch. His dad was also a surfer and pushed Qiu into his first wave at the age of 4, making him one of the few second-generation surfers in China. Thanks to his early start, Qiu has developed a relaxed style and has a knack for generating speed. Townend thinks Qiu is improving at a quick pace and has the greatest potential to qualify for the Olympics. But in 2020, he will be only 17, and he still has a lot to learn in terms of heat strategy and competition. Out in the lineup, Medina stroked into a set wave out the back. Seemingly effortlessly, he linked four wrapping frontside arcs and finished the wave with a flawless air reverse — a combination that’s likely become muscle memory after the countless times he’s done it. Even with the help of government-funded training centers and all the technique instruction in the world, bringing any of the Chinese surfers to a level where they could compete with someone like Medina in three years was difficult to imagine. The IOC will release the full details on the qualification process in early 2018 (the qualification period will start a few months later), but they’ve made it clear that only 20 men and 20 women will have the chance to compete in Tokyo, and there will likely be a cap of two or three surfers per country. With nations like Brazil, Australia, France, Portugal, Tahiti, South Africa, Fiji, Spain and the USA with one or more surfers on the World Tour and the upper echelon of the Qualifying Series, getting just a single Chinese national in the games will be a very tall order, even with all the support the Chinese government can offer. But if a Chinese surfer did qualify in 2020, it wouldn’t be the first time China had successfully taken beginners in a certain sport and transformed them into first-rate athletes. A little over 10 years ago, when China decided to build an Olympic snowboard team, the government chose a handful of gymnasts and acrobats, handed them boards and bindings and moved some of them to Whistler, British Columbia, to train with foreign coaches. Liu Jiayu was selected for the program at age 11 based on her martial-arts skills. Seven years later, she placed fourth in the halfpipe event at the 2010 Vancouver Olympics. For the surfers, however, Townend isn’t getting too ahead of himself. He sees this as a long-term project and is trying to convince the government to do the same. “I know I can close the gap,” he said. “But I don’t think I can close the gap as fast as the Chinese government thinks it can be closed. It’s going to take some time.” S
The group was whittled down to six and taken back to Hainan to see how they fared in an actual ocean. “The ocean terrified them,” said Townend. Not surprisingly, kids who had been trained their entire lives to swim in a chlorinated pool had no idea what to do with a surfboard. None of the selected six remained in Hainan, but the government has continued its efforts to backfill the pipeline, plucking kids from cities all over China and sending prospects to Hainan. “I’ve told them they’ve got to be able to get out on a 9-foot soft-top, turn around and catch a wave without assistance. Otherwise forget about it,” said Townend. At the time of this writing, about a dozen kids from six different provinces all over China — all of whom were junior athletes in paddling, swimming, windsurfing and kayaking — have been relocated to Hainan by the government to become surfers. Townend’s biggest frustration is trying to get the government to understand that the sport of surfing is in a league of its own; you can’t manufacture talent and you can’t teach wave knowledge overnight. “The government wants to accelerate the process so that they can win medals and look good to the world, but what they don’t understand is that surfing has never been formulized like what they’re used to,” he said. “Even with snowboarding, the mountain is constant. You go up a chairlift and the mountain doesn’t move. But the whole learning curve of being a surfer is much longer than [that of ] a snowboarder because you have to learn the ocean. And it takes years of years of paddling out and getting smashed — like we’ve all learned.” Townend said that this has been a bitter pill for the sports administration to swallow. But the Chinese government hasn’t given up on looking for ways to accelerate the learning process for their budding surf team. According to Brumage, there have been initial talks with the government about building wave pools at the sports universities of some major cities, which would allow surfers to train in uniform waves and avoid dealing with the unpredictability of the ocean. AFTER her session at Lowers, Zhu sat down in the sand next to Townend. Recalling her last wave, Townend dissected each turn, explaining what she did well and what she needs to do to improve. She simply smiled and nodded. Standing in front of me, 14-year-old Qiu Zhou was getting ready for his second session of the day. Looking not unlike a typical California grom, he forced his head and sun-bleached shoulder-length hair through the top of his brightly colored Hurley wetsuit and grabbed his board. He told Townend that he was going to land an air reverse, and Townend responded with an offer: “I’ll give you 100 bucks if you land 44
O’NEILL WETSUITS, LLC 2017 US.ONEILL.COM
CULT OF THE
O N E TRU E FIN With the fervor of a tent revival, an international crew of single-fin evangelists assembles in Indonesia to push the limits of classic logs
By MATTHEW SHAW
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are punished repeatedly by the inside section, their leash-less boards catapulted onto the black-sand beach. Yet after swimming to their boards and inspecting them for damage, the surfers shake it off and paddle back out with resolute conviction. Although not a cult in the traditional sense, the gathering here in Bali is certainly cult-like. It’s a congregation dedicated to the exultation of single-fin longboards to a degree that might seem extreme to outsiders. I’ve spent the last week with this eclectic crew — teenagers to middle-agers, underground stylists from New Zealand, Japan, Indonesia, Australia, Portugal, America and elsewhere. Beyond the sense of belonging that the event provides its participants, there’s also a deep sense of purpose evident in this yearly pilgrimage, as surfers risk life and limb atop relics of surf design. It’s part ritualistic self-flagellation, part worship of surfing’s forefathers who rode Waimea, Sunset and Pipeline on similar equipment. In his 1949 book “These Also Believe,” religious scholar Charles Braden defines a cult as “any religious group which differs significantly in … belief or practice from those religious groups which are regarded as normative expressions of religion in our total culture.” In other words, any group ascribing to a belief system outside of the mainstream. While the word “cult” can bring to mind headline-grabbing organizations fronted by lunatics claiming to be prophets (David Koresh and the Branch Davidians in Waco, Texas, and Jim Jones and The People’s Temple in Guyana are well-known examples), most cults are not created or organized around nefarious ideals. Braden argues that the term cult means “nothing derogatory,” and he sums up his view toward cults thusly: “All roads that lead to God are good.” For those here for the 9 Foot and Single, the road has brought them to the Pererenan river mouth.
Under the gaze of a colossal beachfront statue depicting the Hindu goddess Gajah Mina, a hulking right-hander is detonating into the Pererenan river mouth in southwest Bali. According to Hindu mythology, while the sky and the mountains are the realm of virtuous gods, the ocean is home to the ill-intentioned spirits of the underworld. These insidious entities prevent those occupying the middle world — us, that is — from traversing the oceans. But the Gajah Mina, depicted here in Canggu as a nearly 20-foot-tall elephant-headed fish, has long bestowed believers with the courage and spiritual fortitude necessary to navigate treacherous waters. It seems fitting, then, that Gajah Mina should be watching the lineup on this overcast June day, with well-overhead waves shutting down over the sand-covered reef. A group of more than 30 alternative-surfcraft devotees from all corners of the Earth have converged here for a surf exhibition called the Deus 9 Foot and Single, put on by Bali-based surf/motorcycle brand Deus Ex Machina (Latin for “god from the machine”). At a glance, the conditions seem perilous for the surfers in the water, who are armed with wide, heavy, single-fin surfboards. Yet all day they’ve pushed their logs into critical positions, sweeping into the pocket with stylish cutbacks, driving through the trough with Windansea-style bottom turns and locking into perched noserides. Surfers like Byron Bay’s Jack Lynch, Kamakura’s Yuta Sezutsu and Noosa’s Zye Norris work the entirety of their longboards, gracefully connecting each maneuver with the aplomb of someone riding much smaller waves. Others, like California’s Jared Mell and Newcastle’s Lewie Dunn, opt for highlines instead, grabbing their outside rails and threading thick-lipped barrels. As the wind turns onshore and the tide backs out, the competitors 49
(Previous, left) Utilizing only single-finned equipment and loads of inherent style, contestants like Matt Cuddihy (pictured here) make an annual pilgrimage to Bali to surf in the Deus 9 Foot and Single event. Photo by GOOCH (Previous, opposite) The chosen craft of the 9 Foot and Single competitors. Photo by ADIGUNA K
(Left) Honolua Blomfield, 2016 winner of the Deus Ladies’ Log Jam division, gracefully perched in Canggu. Photo by OSBORNE (Opposite) The contestants of the Ladies’ Log Jam, a 30-minute heat that takes place during the multi-day Deus 9 Foot and Single festival. Clockwise from left to right: Mele Saili, Erin Ashley, Kassia Meador, Jen Smith, Ryo Bay, Borabora Hwang, Leah Dawson. Photo by BOW
indonesia’s history of religious pluralism has made the country a bucket-list destination for the spiritually curious. With a population of more than 200 million adherents to Islam across Indonesia and nearly 90 percent of the population of Bali practicing Hinduism, the country has long held religious freedom as one of its core tenets. And the country’s acknowledgement of disparate pathways to enlightenment permeates the ethos of the 9 Foot and Single, right up to its leadership. “It’s cool that it’s caught on with more and more people,” says Deus director of surf Dustin Humphrey of the burgeoning popularity of alternative longboard events like the Noosa Surf Festival and the Duct Tape Invitational. I’m talking to Humphrey in his upstairs office, which overlooks the courtyard of the Temple of Enthusiasm, an open-air compound in Canggu that serves as Deus’ Indonesian headquarters. “I don’t want to preach it, though. We get written off constantly, so I always just say, ‘If you’re into it, you’re into it.’” At taller than 6 feet and with broad shoulders, his arms and legs covered in tattoos, and an untamed beard that comes to a narrow point below his chin, Humphrey cuts an imposing figure. An acclaimed photographer, he’s won awards for his commercial work and side projects like “Sipping Jet Streams,” a book he published with his longtime friend, filmmaker Taylor Steele, who made a surf movie of the same name. In the late aughts, burnt out on surf photography, Humphrey partnered with Australian entrepreneur Dare Jennings to bring the then-Sydneybased Deus to Bali and expand the brand’s foray into surf. “It took off right away,” Humphreys remembers. “People were like, ‘Single-fins in Indo? What’s going on out there?’” Less than 10 years ago, when the Temple of Enthusiasm was first established, Canggu was just a rural outpost of rice paddies and a stretch of beachbreak accessible only by dirt bike. This isolated stretch of Bali, far away from the Westernized hustle of Kuta, would have seemed a perfect place for the Deus crew to insulate themselves and explore their single-fin-centric ideology. Though the company made waves early on, Deus’s emphasis on retro surfboards and vintage, custom motorcycles led some to deride the company as a “midlife crisis brand” appealing to older, nostalgic surfers fetishizing the craft of their youth. But one man’s crisis is another man’s opportunity to be born again. And it was during surfing’s own rebirth — which began around the dawn of the millennium, when Thomas Campbell released his watershed 1999 longboarding film, “The Seedling” — that the seeds for alternative events like 9 Foot and Single were planted.
In the years that followed, as the alternative-surfcraft movement slowly began to take hold across America and Australia, Humphrey began to feel the pull toward single-finned boards himself while accompanying El Segundo, California, surfer/shaper Tyler Hatzikian through Indo to work on Campbell’s follow-up to “The Seedling.” “That was the first time since surfing San O with Robert August as a kid that I’d ridden classic, single-fin logs,” Humphrey says of the trip for 2004’s “Sprout.” “That changed my outlook. It felt more authentic and interesting than anything else that was happening at the time. After that, I really only wanted to take pictures of classic surfing on single-fins and twins.” At the Temple of Enthusiasm, Humphrey has made a kind of incubator for the creative minds drawn to alternative modes of surfing. He’s outfitted the Temple with a shaping bay and glassing room, a motorcycle workshop, a photography studio and an editing bay. As Canggu has grown around it, the Temple has become a kind of cultural locus for the area, luring in more converts with an open-air restaurant that caters to Western palettes and a retail store that sells apparel, motorcycles and a wide range of alternative surfcraft. In the back, a smattering of two-story villas encloses a large courtyard where patrons sip cocktails on padded patio furniture. “It could have easily been just a little storefront,” Humphreys says, looking down at Temple’s courtyard from his office. “But I’m kind of an all-or-nothing guy.” 50
to attract a few well-known alternative-surfcraft devotees over its seven-year lifespan, like Alex Knost, Tyler Warren and Devon Howard. This year, Harrison Roach and Mell are probably the closest to household names, but there are plenty of wildly talented lesser-known loggers also on hand. There are Californians like 17-year-old up-and-comer West Adler and surfer/shaper Forrest Minchinton. Enrico Goncalves is here from Portugal, and Tetsu Ogawa traveled from Japan. Ambrose McNeill is the lone Kiwi, while Indonesia is well represented by Java’s Deni Firdaus and Husni Ridhwan, as well as several members of the local Canggu surf community. The roster is rounded out by the Noosa contingent, with Roach, Norris, surfer/shaper Thomas Bexon and his 16-year-old protégé Tom Morat, and Matt Cuddihy. “It’s just a hell time,” Flanders says of the event. “I don’t do contests. But I’ll do this one. At home there are cliquey scenes and egos. That’s not what goes on here. It’s all about single-fins and having fun.” In her book “Cults in Our Midst,” psychologist Margaret Thaler Singer takes a stab at identifying what draws people into cults and what coheres them once they join. “Cults come in all sizes, form around any theme, and recruit persons of all ages and backgrounds,” Singer writes. “Their reasons for existing may concern religion, lifestyle, politics, or asserted philosophies.” As Singer notes, cults tend to offer a sense of belonging to individuals who are “temporarily unaffiliated.” The group that has decamped here to Canggu seems particularly transient, with little connection to the surfing mainstream or any other form of competition. Their only unifying thread is an appreciation for left-field surfcraft. Artist Paul McNeil — whose whimsical, surf-inspired artwork has been on display at the Temple during the contest — notes, “Years ago, these guys were about as popular as poets without a home. They didn’t have anywhere to go where they could be around their people.” As alternative surfcraft, especially longboards, have gained cultural cachet in recent years, the contest has grown, putting a spotlight on the community that congregates here each year. “Now,” McNeil adds, “what they do is more accepted.”
looking around the contest this morning, there is at least one
conspicuous absence. Standing a touch above 6'7", Newcastle surfer Luke “The Flapper” Flanders would certainly be hard to miss. A few hours earlier, unable to find Flanders for his heat, contest organizers bounced him to a later one. They are just about to do it again when Flanders comes scurrying up the beach. A half-smoked Marlboro Light between his lips, Flanders’s panic is hidden behind the black ovals of his feminine-looking shades as he meets his fellow competitors on the beach. “My alarm never went off,” he exclaims to no one in particular before setting down his 9'4" noserider, which looks more like a midlength next to his oversized frame. After waxing up his board, Flanders pulls on a jersey and paddles into the lineup. In the water, he impresses with a mix of powerful turns and a graceful footwork surprising for someone his size. Five years ago Flanders was bartending at a nightclub in Newcastle — an establishment he describes as a kind of “tacky, trashy place that everyone loved for some reason.” One evening at the club, a local surf shop showed a short film about the 9 Foot and Single contest. Flanders thought it looked fun, so he contacted Deus, sent a few clips of him surfing longboards and was promptly invited to the next event. Covered in tattoos, his earlobes stretched from his years of sporting gauge earrings, Flanders typifies the underground, counterculture surfer to which the contest opens its doors. The event has also managed 51
(Right) Australian logger Jack Lynch is a good example of the experimental mindset shared among the 9 Foot and Single devotees. Here he drives hard off his hull en route to a second place finish on a craft he’s worked on with Gold Coast Shaper Cory Munn. Photo by BOW
DOWN the street from the Temple, at a small open-air restaurant
called Canteen, I meet Steve “Monty” Montell, head judge at the 9 Foot and Single. Inside, Montell shows me his assembly of hallowed icons lining the restaurant’s west wall: a late-’50s Barry Bennett with a parabolic stringer, an all-white, stringer-less Midget Farrelly, a redand-yellow Lightning Bolt, a Mark Richards twin-fin and a couple of ’70s-era Hot Buttereds. For years, Montell headed up the Noosa Boardriders Club (also known as the Noosa Malibu Club), where he helped groom an entire generation of classic stylists like Roach, Norris, Cuddihy and Jai Lee. A longtime visitor to and then resident of Canggu, Montell fell in with a small, well-connected group of longboarders here that included Jennings and Humphrey. Because of his experience organizing contests, Montell was tapped to help bring the 9 Foot and Single to life. “We thought, ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if we surfed a premier, worldclass break on these classic longboards?’” he continues. “‘Could we surf it? Would we surf it? Should we surf it?’” Heavily inspired by Joel Tudor’s Duct Tape Invitational contests, Montell says he was hesitant about putting surfers on single-fin logs in waves that didn’t seem to call for them. “We had to figure out if it was appropriate,” he says. Montell’s alluding to a strongly held belief among those in the alternative-surfcraft movement that longboards should be ridden only when the waves are under head-high. That school of thought can be traced back to Campbell’s “The Seedling,” where he posits on screen, “The Seedling figures if it’s overhead, ride a shortboard. Logging is really an under-head-high trip …” Earlier, at the Temple, Humphrey told me a story about the time when San Diego’s Devon Howard came to surf in one of the first iterations of the 9 Foot and Single. “The swell was supposed to be huge, so I suggested that if it’s over head-high we just ride smaller single-fins,” Humphrey recalled. “Devon was like, ‘No way. In the ’60s, they had one board. They rode it at Pipe and they rode it at San O.’ That solidified it for me. It made perfect sense once Devon said that.” A spiritual ethos was born. Participants would have to channel their forefathers, pushing longboards to their functional limits, safety and conventional surfing wisdom be damned. 52
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(Above) Deus’ Indonesian Headquarters—the altar upon which the single-fin log is worshipped. Photo by HAWKINS
resent the last era of widespread experimentation in longboard design. “Longboards like the ones we’re riding here stopped progressing in the mid-1960s,” he says. “Meanwhile, the shortboard now has had over 30 years of refinement.” Bexon’s surfed in the contest every year since its inception. While he says he wouldn’t typically ride a longboard in the kind of waves on offer in the river mouth, he says the 9 Foot and Single helps advance or debunk theories he might have. “Taking a design to an extreme or putting it outside its comfort zone is very instructive,” he says. “You can really see why certain design elements work.” “Longboarding is pretty easy, as there’s kind of a low entry level,” says frequent 9 Foot and Single finalist Roach. Roach shaped his own board this year, basing his narrow-railed, pintail shape on boards he’d worked on with Bexon. “Where I’m from, there are so many young kids now riding longboards who haven’t been doing it that long but are surfing so well. But put them out in conditions like this and you see the difference between a person who can hang heels in small waves and somebody who is really an accomplished surfer.” Days prior, I found noted California master shaper Rich Pavel at work in the Temple shaping bay. It’s somewhat of a revolving door for shapers here, and boards waiting to be glassed line the bay’s walls, ranging from sub-5-foot fishes to 10-foot-plus logs crafted by the likes of Neal Purchase Jr., Josh Hall, Bexon and Pavel. “When I see this group of people gathered, I think of enlightenment or awakening,” Pavel tells me. “What’s available to us in any moment is not limited. There is room for progress with all boards — the single-fin longboard included.” After nearly losing me with an analogy about genomic expression in freshwater salmon, Pavel brings it full circle, arguing that the gathering is about something much bigger than this yearly competition. “Today we’re talking about riding classic longboards in heavy surf,” he reminds me. “But this contest is part of a burgeoning consciousness allowing for more outside-the-box thinking. I think it’s going to lead to more breakthroughs and positive changes. When it comes to the definition of what it is to ride a longboard, these guys here are helping to redefine what that is in terms of potential.”
(Opposite) While most surf spots in and around Canggu are normally filled with thruster-toting shredders, it’s not unlikely to see alternative crafters like Noosa’s Harrison Roach in the lineup riding heavy logs during the week of the Deus festival. Photo by BOW
though he’s been seen napping between heats, Lynch is no slouch in the water, advancing to the finals with powerful gouges in the pocket atop a thinly foiled 9'2" with a displacement bottom contour that he’s been developing with Gold Coast shaper Cory Munn. The strange design appears to work well with Lynch’s casual approach, as he slides down the face of each set wave, grabs hold of his outside rail to project up the face, then moves to the nose to lock into a picture-perfect cheater five, the deep nose concave providing crucial lift. Lynch’s is a unique design, but it adheres to the contest’s simple set of guidelines: All boards must be over 9 feet. One fin. No leash. Beyond those simple parameters, anything goes. And while a log may seem a log to the undiscerning eye, the equipment being ridden here is vastly diverse. Virtually every rail and tail shape is on display. Concave and convex contours are carved into every imaginable portion of the boards. If Canggu is a laboratory for design ideas, all the competitors came prepared to experiment. But, like many cults, this group of zealots is also committed to a singular, common goal, which they see as bigger than themselves. In this case, that cause is the advancement of the single-fin log. “We are trying to find that happy medium between tradition and progression,” says Bexon, who has shaped boards for at least a third of the surfers competing here. “I think we’re picking up where they left off in the 1960s.” At home in Noosa, Bexon has been tinkering with Magic Sam–inspired designs — traditional pig outlines with narrower noses and a wide point set back from the middle, allowing better turning ability. Bexon argues that boards like the Sam — created just before the shortboard revolution — rep-
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many of these surfers will soon leave this place of single-fin worship and scatter across the globe. Roach, Flanders, Dunn and a few others are planning to meet an impending swell elsewhere in Indonesia. Bexon will spend a few weeks shaping and spreading his gospel of the traditional log across Europe. Many of the competitors will have opportunities to reunite at one of the similar longboarding competitions that are popping up around the world, as the traditional single-fin ethos continues its rapid revival, claiming a stronger foothold within the broader surf culture with each passing year. It seems possible that the cult of the single-fin may eventually become just another sect of mainstream surfing. If it did, would these homeless poets still need the 9 Foot and Single? Though many may view them as the prophets who helped bring traditional logging back from the grave, no one in this group seems to revel in his role as revivalist. Despite finding common ground in Canggu, their inclination for experimentation means that they’re bound to diverge over time, each seeking their own individual version of surfing enlightenment along the fringes of board design. But for now, as the surf world at large closes in around the Temple of Enthusiasm, Humphrey tries to gain the attention of the group while I stare at the glass of mysterious liquid in front of me with mild suspicion. Humphrey offers a simple “Cheers everyone. See you next year.” As we ceremoniously touch our glasses together, we still have no idea what we’re about to drink. Ultimately, it might not matter. It seems that we’ve all drunk the Kool-Aid already. S
(Above) Roach and Zye Norris have long bonded over a mutual love of traditional longboarding, and that appreciation led both to the finals of the 9 Foot and Single. Photo by BOW
outside the Temple, a Deus employee is busy placing Canang saris in strategic positions around the property. The palm-leaf baskets hold offerings — colorful carnations, cigarettes and money — meant to appease powerful gods and acknowledge a common desire for peace in the world. In Canggu, like in many other places across Bali, Canang saris can be found scattered along roads and in front of driveways, at the entrances to businesses and restaurants, at the feet of altars, even on the dashboards of taxis. Inside the Temple, those who’d participated in the 9 Foot and Single are enjoying the post-contest festivities in the courtyard. I’m sitting with Humphrey and several other competitors as Montell announces the winners from the stage. Roach barely edged out finalists Lynch, Mell and Norris. Fresh from accepting his first-place prize package — an original piece of art by McNeil, a Bexon longboard (which he gifted to Adler) and a bottle of Jose Cuervo — he approaches the group for a round of tequila pulls. A tray of shot glasses arrives shortly thereafter, containing a clear, mysterious liquid ordered at the behest of Humphrey. Tonight marks the end of the event, but more than that it means
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Photo: Russell Ord
The Contender Until recently, 23-year-old Connor O’Leary lived in relative obscurity, working at a surf shop and teaching surf lessons at his home break. Now he’s beating his heroes on surfing’s biggest stage Interview by ZANDER MORTON
Admit it: Before Connor O’Leary blitzed the World Qualifying Series in 2016 — winning the whole damn thing and qualifying for the World Tour — you had no idea who he was. And that’s OK. Neither did we. The half-Irish, half-Japanese goofyfoot from Cronulla, Australia, has always flown under the radar. He never won a junior championship title — hell, he never even qualified to compete for one — he’s never had a six-figure contract and he’s never been hailed as “the next big thing” by pro-surf pundits. So when he won the Qualifying Series (QS), besting a highly touted group of World Tour qualifiers that included Leonardo Fioravanti, Ezekiel Lau, Ethan Ewing and Frederico Morais, a lot of people (us included) asked, “Connor … who?” But even if you didn’t know O’Leary by name, you couldn’t deny his obvious merits on a surfboard. His tack-sharp backside attack and clinical frontside rail work turned heads from the very start of the 2017 World Tour season. O’Leary earned a quarterfinal finish at the Quik Pro Gold Coast, followed by a second-place result at the Outerknown Fiji Pro, which marked only his fifth appearance in an elite-level event. As of press time, he sits in 15th place overall, with two events to go. Considering the likelihood of him finishing the season as Rookie of the Year, and the damage he’s sure to do on Tour for the foreseeable future, O’Leary is finally finding himself in the unfamiliar glow of the spotlight. 58
(Opposite) Photo by SHERMAN (This page) For most of his life, Connor O’Leary has remained largely outside of the public eye. But after rocketing to the top of the ‘QS ratings last year with sharp backhand turns like this one, O’Leary has found himself squarely in the limelight. Photo by FRIEDEN
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(Opposite) O’Leary didn’t spend his youth immersed in a cloud of hype like fellow World Tour surfers Kolohe Andino or John Florence. But now he’s using his hard-earned success and talent to take down some of the biggest names on the Tour. Photo by FRIEDEN
Can you tell us a bit about your background? Your parents actually met at a pro surfing event in the ’80s, right? My mom was born in Tokyo, and she didn’t really come from a surfing background. My grandma was actually a really good volleyball player, but my mom decided when she was about 16 that she wanted to move to the coast. She got a job as a waitress in Chōnan, in Japan, and started surfing there. As she got better, she started traveling and competing. My dad has been a surfer his whole life. His parents are Irish, but he grew up in a little town outside of Cronulla along with his two brothers and two sisters. So he’s been surrounded by the ocean forever. Unlike mom, he doesn’t have much of a competitive side, so for him surfing was always just a hobby. He’s still a really good surfer; he just never pursued it as a professional career. But yeah, they met because mom was in Cronulla for a professional event in the ’80s, and they’ve been together since. What was it like growing up and surfing in Cronulla? They call it a “city beach,” but it’s not like Bondi or anything. It’s a nice distance away from the mayhem. We have a really good variety of waves in Cronulla, from slabs to reefbreaks to beachbreaks, which is really great exposure if you want to become a professional surfer one day. It was a good practice ground growing up as a kid. I started on a boogie board at 5 or so and then dad got me surfing on his boards a few years after that. My parents didn’t push me to be pro or anything like that. I was actually really into soccer for a long time, but it was taking up every weekend, so I just went, “Nah, I think I’ll stick to surfing.” At that age, did it even cross your mind that surfing could become your career? I’m not sure I ever thought about it as a career back then, but I definitely didn’t ever want to stop. Everything sort of happened organically. I started entering competitions most weekends and I had a really good group of mates that I surfed with every day after school. I started with Quiksilver when I was about 15, so they’ve always looked after me. But I was easy for them: I just wanted wetsuits and T-shirts. [Laughs.] Even after getting sponsored, though, my whole career has been pretty under the radar. But fame has never been a motivator for me. I’ve never strived for more attention; I’ve just always wanted to do well for myself. That’s been enough motivation. During your ’QS bid, you worked at a surf shop between events, and you also coached and taught surf lessons. Was that out of financial necessity or something you just enjoyed doing? A bit of both. It was really grounding for me to go, “OK, I don’t want to work in a surf shop or push kids into waves for the rest of my life.” Coming home between events to work, coach and sell surfboards got me even more inspired to go out and compete and be successful at it. It was definitely motivation for me to surf my best and see where that could take me. 60
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(Opposite) With a well-polished rail game and an aerial repertoire to match, it’s easy to see why O’Leary is in the running for the 2017 Rookie of the Year award. Photo by SHIELD (Right) A rookie’s first year on Tour can be challenging, but for O’Leary, this season has allowed him to show the world his chops. Photo by SHIELD
rushing, or if I’m a bit flustered in a heat, I’ll remember Dad’s voice in my head — “Go long” — and everything falls back into rhythm.
Did you ever lose confidence in yourself ? After remaining under the radar throughout your junior career, did you think maybe pro surfing just wasn’t in the cards? To be honest, I didn’t even really have a junior career. There were flashes where I did OK, but I didn’t make a single World Junior Championship, and the last year I had on the junior series, I broke my leg trying an air at the start of the year and was out for the whole season. When I got healthy I was too old for the juniors and just decided to have a real dig at the ’QS. My first year on the ’QS, I was just feeling my way through it and seeing what the judges thought of me. I chipped away at it, and then two years ago I ended up in ninth heading into Hawaii and almost qualified, which I wasn’t expecting at all. I didn’t end up qualifying that year, but it gave me a lot of confidence, because at that point I knew I had the talent. And then last year I went into it with the goal of getting on Tour and ended up winning the ’QS.
I’m sure that’s come in handy this year on the Tour. What have been the highlights for you so far? Getting second in Fiji was huge. Cloudbreak is such a tricky wave and to do well there felt amazing. I was able to show people I can surf decent waves. [Laughs.] The whole event was a big blur, honestly. But it’s definitely gonna be a highlight of my life — something to reflect back on when I’m 60 years old and riding longboards. [Laughs.] Speaking of big accomplishments, you’re obviously in the mix for Rookie of the Year. How important would it be for you to win that? It’s a big deal. You only get one shot at that, and I feel like this year has more talented rookies than ever, so to stand out among these guys would be a massive confidence booster for me. At the start of the year everyone was talking about Zeke [Lau], Ethan [Ewing], Leo [Fioravanti], Fred [Morais] … and then it was like, “Connor? Who’s that?” [Laughs.]
It seems like getting so close to qualifying can either help or hurt your confidence. For some people it’s heartbreaking to get that far and not qualify, and they never get close again. You’re obviously not one of those people. Going into Hawaii in 2015 I had a few people saying to me, “Man, you don’t want to be that guy that nearly qualifies and then never gets close again,” and it got in my head. But during my whole career, I’ve always just wanted to improve my surfing, and I’ve always focused more on that than anything else. The results themselves weren’t the biggest thing for me, and that outlook helped me immensely. I haven’t had the most amazing results, but I feel like I’ve improved every year and that’s ended up impacting how well I do in events.
For you, that’s got to be the weirdest thing about arriving on Tour: Just dealing with the attention and the naysayers. Yeah, until I qualified I never had any media attention at all, so I’m not used to that. And you realize there are people who love your surfing and people who hate your surfing, and you’ve just got to accept that and not let it get in your head too much. I try to just have a laugh at it all, but it does affect you in small ways. I used to be pretty loose with my Instagram, and a couple of months ago I was in the gym and this guy was trying and failing to do a box jump — a really high one, like the same height as me — and he was kind of acting like a dick. I thought it was funny, so I filmed him for a second and put it on my Instagram story, and straight away I had people calling me out and telling me it was disrespectful, and I realized I have to watch myself a bit more now. There are more people paying attention to me now and I want to be a good, positive influence. But last year nobody would have even noticed something like that. [Laughs.]
What’s the best advice you’ve ever received in terms of surfing and competing? When I was younger, before every heat my dad would say, “Connor, just go long.” It meant to take my time. To draw out turns. To not rush. That’s stuck with me my entire life. Now if I take off on a wave and I feel like I’m 63
(Left) O’Leary, clearly happy about his current status on Tour—having a trunk full of fresh boards never hurts either. Photo by SHERMAN (Right) With direct access to a mix of surf spots while growing up in Cronulla, O’Leary has developed a versatile knack for small and heavy waves alike. Photo by SHIELD
Do you ever get overwhelmed by the social media world? You don’t seem like the type to relish that kind of attention. I’m not a massive fan of social media, and I never have been. But I get that it has a big impact, and there are a lot of people in my ear telling me I need to use it, so I try to stay on top of it. I think we all wish we could just shut it off sometimes, but I don’t get too overwhelmed by it. I’ve been reading more books to switch it up. You get so sucked into your phone that it’s really nice to take a break and open up a book. Every time I’m in the airport now I buy a new one. So now that you’re on the Tour, and you’ve proven you belong there, what comes next? Where do you set the new goalposts? The end goal is to win a world title, but it’s been a process getting to that headspace. At the start of this year I just wanted to get comfortable as quick as I could on Tour and re-qualify through the ’CT so I didn’t have to chase the ’QS. Then, after a few good results, I started thinking, “Why not try to crack the top 10?” Last year was exactly the same: At the start of the year I just wanted to qualify for the Tour, but halfway through the season, after winning Ballito, I decided I should try to win the whole thing. Which you did, and what an incredible accomplishment that was. Now that you’re in this new chapter of your life on Tour, do you think much about where you were just a few years ago? Yeah, for sure. I think after my surfing career it would be cool to go back to Cronulla and share the experiences I’ve had on Tour with the kids there and try to help and coach them. There’s a lot of knowledge I’ve gained and am still gaining, and I wish there would have been someone like that to help me when I was younger. It would be really cool to give back to the kids. Considering you’ve been the underdog for much of your career, any guidance would probably mean a lot coming from you. If you could do it, that probably helps them believe that they can too. Definitely. I’d love to help kids that aren’t necessarily the best or the most touted surfers their age, because I was exactly like that. I wasn’t the best kid, but it’s all about improving every day and listening to the people that want to help you. That’s what got me to where I am today. S 64
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CLOCK IN CLOCK OUT Most of Australia’s hardest-charging slab surfers don’t call chasing terrifying waves a career. They call it a vacation
By SEAN DOHERTY
houses into the ocean and lighting up reefs and bommies that had lain dormant for a generation. Cape Solander — Cape Fear, also known as Ours, pre-branding makeover — was a dangerous wave at 6 foot, and with the storm sucking fuel from the Tasman, it appeared it would be two or three times that size and beyond contemplation. But with the storm eye tracking the coast and the whole thing so damn volatile, at the last minute Mathews saw a glimmer of hope. He traded calls in turn with his forecaster and his insurance broker. If it ran, it would be something else. That only left the problem of finding someone to surf it. Where, at short notice, could you find a group of lunatics gladly willing to sign the waiver and surf the blackest of black-diamond days? Where indeed.
It was a week before famed Australian slab surfer Mark Mathews’ Cape Fear contest was set to run, featuring an international field of big-wave legends including Shane Dorian, Bruce Irons, Ian Walsh, Albee Layer, Jamie O’Brien and Makua Rothman. The only problem was that the World Surf League (WSL), locked in a cold war with event sponsor Red Bull, threatened to ban any surfer who competed in the event from participating in future WSL contests. The big names all pulled out. It might not have mattered, however, since it appeared the contest wouldn’t run. Couldn’t run. The forecast just looked too big. The system spawning in the Tasman Sea would eventually be known as the “Black Nor’easter” and would batter the whole Eastern Seaboard, washing
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Dan Ryan may not be a household name in surfing, but he certainly possesses the unique blend of grit, courage, and insanity that it takes to charge the bottomless slabs of Australia. Photo by ORD
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electricians and dockhands. During the week, they wore hi-vis yellow and orange — the ceremonial uniform of the Australian tradesman — and they worked shifts to buy time inside 20-foot tubes. In Australia, it’s not the aristocracy or the academic class but the humble “tradie” who sits atop the cultural totem, and the fact that they were now surfing waves the pros wouldn’t was cause for national celebration. Australians cheered as garbagemen and caretakers of invalids were spat out of enormous barrels. “It’s pretty nuts how hard they charged when you consider they were getting nothing out of it apart from the rush,” says Mathews, who was one of the first professional slab surfers. “It shows how f--king addictive it actually is. These guys were risking their lives and it wasn’t even their livelihood.” While Mathews and fellow pro charger Koby Abberton might have pioneered Cape Solander, they were quickly followed into the lineup by a small army of carpet layers. In Maroubra, laying carpet for a living was a generational rite of passage — along with throwing eggs at police cars and the occasional holiday up the hill at Long Bay Correctional Centre. So when a submarine slab wave suddenly turned up on their doorstep, it was immediately ritualized in much the same way. The carpet layers took over the joint on every big swell, goading each other into dry-reef closeouts and cackling maniacally whenever someone was smashed into the cliff and dragged across the barnacles. “You know what it reminded me of?” Mathews says of those early days. “It was like a game of park football that just got out of control. Those guys would go mental out there — no rules, just destroying themselves, not getting paid and actually going harder because they weren’t getting paid. Then they’d turn up to work the next day limping and bleeding and laughing.”
ince it first appeared on magazine covers and in videos in the early 2000s, slab surfing has been a misunderstood movement, cast almost immediately as the redheaded, snaggletoothed cousin of big-wave surfing. While traditional big-wave surfing could trace its ancestry to the ancient Polynesians, slab surfing, with its smoke-belching skis, energy drinks and aquatic stunts, seemed like the seafaring spawn of motocross and “Jackass.” The waves being ridden didn’t even look like waves. Some looked like Escher staircases. Some looked like three-dimensional renderings of the reef below. Others seemed to contain the trapped souls of shipwreck victims screaming to get out. They were gothic hellscapes every bit as grotesque as Teahupoo was perfect. While slabs were being surfed all over the world, the epicenter of slab surfing was undeniably Australia. Shipstern Bluff, Cape Solander and The Right were revealed to the world in relatively short succession, and the first publicized sessions at those waves seemed almost colonial. It all felt very “The Fatal Shore,” down to the symbolism of Cape Solander being just a mile from where Captain Cook claimed Australia for the British, and Shipstern Bluff a couple of bays away from the ruins of the infamous Port Arthur penal colony. More than anything, however, slab surfing was defined by the guys doing it. The surf stars of the day were too sensible, too highly paid and too good-looking to risk their necks on the end of a rope. Of the skill set required to slab-surf, having the balls to let go of the rope was by far the most crucial, and that opened the door to a whole bunch of guys you’d never heard of — guys outside the diorama of pro surfing, guys on the fringes … guys with day jobs. They were miners, divers, firemen, fishermen, plumbers, bricklayers, 68
(Opposite) Over the past decade, Australia has produced a cadre of unflinching hellmen who take on beastly waves purely for their love of the mayhem. Justen “Jughead” Allport, slotted terrifyingly deep at Ours on his day off. Photo by HORNBY (Left) When he’s not throwing himself over liquid ledges at The Right or Ours, Allport works as a fireman to support his wave-chasing habits. Photo by CRAIG (Below) Allport, enjoying his favorite pastime below sea level at Cyclops. Photo by ORD
off. Allport currently works 24 days on, 24 days off, 24 back on and then another five off. And even when a swell clashes with the schedule, he can “negotiate.” The boss at the fire station knows the look when Allport walks up: “All he ever asks is ‘Where are you going?’ and ‘How big is it gonna be?’” It’s this gusto for heavy surf that has made Allport a standout in slabs, but it’s also taken a steep physical toll. Twelve years ago, on his first-ever trip to the USA, he chased a swell to Mavericks, but upon landing at LAX he got a call from good friend Ken “Skindog” Collins telling him to change his connecting flight to San Jose. “We’re surfing Ghost Trees,” Collins said. Allport’s American odyssey lasted five waves. “Skinny said, ‘Whatever you do, don’t fade.’ So of course I faded, bunny hopped a boil, and as I landed, my back foot slipped out of the straps and the board did a 360 with my front foot still in the strap.” His left fibula spiral fractured in four places, his tibia snapped clean in half and the nerves in his lower leg shredded like cooked spaghetti. He still has the screws in his leg today; the big toe on his left foot no longer works, and if he touches his shin he feels like he’s being stabbed. He returned home and was on paid medical leave from the fire brigade for a year while he recovered.
he Kelly Slater of slab surfing is a guy called Jughead. In a previous life Jughead had been Justen Allport, a laconic father of three with a “Beavis and Butthead” laugh who worked as a fireman at the Bateau Bay Fire Station. On his days off, however, he chased impossible surf. “Jug chased it hard,” recalls Mathews. “I remember when I was young looking at photos of him surfing and thinking, ‘How is this guy not dead?’” Allport, of course, almost was dead on several occasions. Allport chased waves, not magazine covers. “I went to The Right one time,” he recalls, “and Mark sat way out the back and waited three hours. He caught one wave that day. Koby didn’t even catch one, because they were waiting for the biggest, darkest one for the cover shot. Meanwhile, I was inside taking a thousand smaller ones that were better than any wave I’d ever get back at home.” Allport reasoned like a working father, not a pro surfer: “If I get days away from work and the kids, I’m catching everything that moves. That’s the difference: It’s recreation for us; for them, it’s a job.” Being a fireman is in many ways the perfect day job for a guy like Allport. For one, slab surfing seems less dangerous than walking into a burning building, but most importantly, the job affords plenty of days 69
(Below) The Right, arguably the mecca of slab surfing, is electrician Mick Corbett’s playground when the swell is just right. Photo by SLATTER (Right, opposite) Like most of Australia’s legendary slab hunters, James Hollmer-Cross doesn’t make a living off his heroic surf efforts. By day he runs a house-painting business, but when his schedule allows, he spends his free time navigating the depths of Shipstern Bluff ’s mutant waves. Photos by CRAIG AND CHISHOLM
Watching it break on a big swell, moving with the viscosity of liquid metal, a head-high tube spinning perfectly at the base of a 20-foot mound of water, it’s hard to imagine a more monstrous wave being ridden. “It’s a hell of a wave,” chirps Corbett. There’s no horizon-staring faux romance in the way he delivers this line. He says it like he’s checking your fuse box. “Once you get to the bottom of the wave, it feels like you kind of start surfing uphill, then it just takes the biggest breath in before it roars past you and just rips your face off.” Over time he’s reached a perverse level of comfort out there, although he was shortened up recently while trying a floater on the end section and is now out of the water for six months with torn ligaments in his knee. It could be worse. In this land of oversized everything, Corbett was recently sitting next to a guy in the water who got launched into the air by a 16-foot great white. “I turned around and there it was. I’ve been in the ocean all my life and have always wondered what my first great white would look like,” he laughs. “I don’t wonder anymore.”
f you’ve seen a photo of The Right over the past five years and noticed a hairy, marsupial-sized creature at the base of the wave scurrying for its life, it was probably Mick Corbett. Like a lot of young guys in Western Australia, Corbett’s done well from the mining boom. Between running his own electrical business down south and subcontracting to the big red quarries in the north, he’s squirrelled away enough to live off of. And like a lot of young surfers out west, Corbett now has money, time, toys and 2,000 miles of empty coastline to play with. “When I was first starting up my sparky business, I didn’t have a lot of time, but since then I took a step back and started living my life a bit more and chasing waves,” says Corbett. “It’s funny: Every single person I surf with is a tradie. Everyone works to go surfing. We’re all good lads, out there to catch a wave and have a good time. No point doing it otherwise.” The Right, an offshore seamount open to everything the Southern Ocean has got, might be the pinnacle of the slab-surfing movement. 70
the bush on the down-low and surfing it alone, before taking Hollmer-Cross and friend Marti Paradisis along one afternoon. “We only had two hours before dark and it was f--king pumping,” remembers Hollmer-Cross. “I only caught two waves: one I made and one I got absolutely punished on. We ended up getting lost and walking out in the dark.” After salmon farming and bulldozing old-growth forest, surfing at Shipstern Bluff quickly became Tasmania’s new boom industry. The Tassie boys charged hard on bigger and bigger swells, and this menagerie of house painters, abalone divers and cray fishermen put the forgotten island at the bottom of Australia back on the map. Some of them, God forbid, even went pro, including Hollmer-Cross. Slab surfing had arrived and evolved so quickly in the early 2000s that every new swell felt like a quantum leap, and surf fans around the world couldn’t get enough of the ensuing carnage and heroism. When the new discoveries dried up and the limits plateaued, however, the surfing public grew bored just as fast. Deskbound thrill seekers yawned as footage of another 20-foot Shipstern swell played out on their screen, and Hollmer-Cross soon found himself working as a house painter. “I was pretty rattled at the time, but it was actually the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he recalls. “We were pretty obsessive, and surfing for a living was testing my relationship with my family. That change meant I could juggle surfing with my own business, and, you know what, I feel like I earn my surfs more now.”
ames Hollmer-Cross answers the phone with his good arm. He’s at home in Hobart, Tasmania, and rolls straight into an itemized list of trauma inflicted by giant, ugly surf: “I’ve broken three bones in two years, all surfing.” Hollmer-Cross runs his own business as a house painter, but moonlights as one of Shipstern Bluff ’s deepest. “It’s lucky that I’m insured, but the injuries have burned bridges with a couple of regular clients. After the second or third time I got hurt, they were over it.” The latest injury was a broken arm suffered while surfing Shippies. Fortunately, it wasn’t his painting arm. It was a wipeout at Pedra Branca, though, that almost finished both his surfing and house-painting careers. “Yeah, it was pretty savage” is how Hollmer-Cross remembers that violent spill three years ago. At the time he thought he’d broken his back, but had instead broken his leg in two places, torn the ligaments in his knee and perforated his eardrum. He’d been pinned to the reef and the power of the wave squeezed him like a tube of toothpaste — only it wasn’t toothpaste that came out. In a perverse yet redemptive twist, the footage of his wipeout was picked up and spliced into the 2015 remake of “Point Break.” The humble house painter from Hobart made it to Hollywood and the payout floated his family while he got back on his feet. When Hollmer-Cross was a young lad, Shipstern, like most slabs, was nothing more than a myth. “We heard rumors,” he recalls, “about this really, really heavy wave down south that was secretly being ridden.” Turns out a guy named Andy Campbell had been walking into 71
(Left) Corbett, working overtime at The Right. Photo by ORD (Right) Chris Shanahan, taking in a harrowing view at a secret slab in Oz. Photo by ORD
When the day arrived, the swell at Cape Solander was too big, too east and totally out of bounds. People would be turned into pet food. In other words, it was perfect. It was the rarest of sporting broadcasts, the kind you watched thinking that it was not only possible, but likely that someone would die on the live stream. It was so dangerous that the surfers voted whether to run or not, although with Koby Abberton conducting the silent vote, nobody was game to say no anyway. By the time they passed the hat around and the surfers had voted to run, Allport had already slipped out the door, put his wetsuit on and was running down to the rocks to jump off. He didn’t even know the contest had been called on. There was nobody out, so he was going surfing. Half an hour later and Allport was lying on a sled, bleeding badly after taking the first big set of the day and duly being slammed head first into the rocks. “I was a bit dazed and saw this blood and said, ‘Is that mine?’” Allport recalls. “I remember driving in on the ski and looking in toward shore. My kids were all there that day and I was thinking, ‘This isn’t that cool.’ My middle girl, Millie, was a bit upset. My eldest girl was worried about the middle girl being worried, and my youngest bloke was jumping up and down going, ‘Dad got smashed!’ He thought it was great.” “That’s what amazes me,” says Mathews of Allport, shaking his head, “that he’s kept going that hard. It proves it’s something that doesn’t let go of you. It slows down in the way that you chase it less and it takes up less of your life, but you put a guy like Jughead in the water and the instinct just takes over.” As Allport was carted away, the show rolled on, the surfers making the most of their day off work, lining up one after the other to be ritually marmalized, surfacing down in the bay, eyes wide, huffing foam, and after a quick inventory of limbs, laughing perversely. In a way, it was a blessing that the international field wasn’t there — a sentiment that the international field, watching on from back home, no doubt shared. As for Allport, he remembers only flashes of the ski ride back into Botany Bay and the trip to the hospital, but remembers clearly what he was thinking. “During that whole time, I was thinking to myself, ‘You dickhead! This is day one of the swell. There are five more days of waves and you’ve got the week off!’” S
n recent years, as the public’s fascination with big, bloodthirsty slabs has waned, slab surfing has begun a slow drift into obscurity. The renaissance of big-wave paddle-in surfing has certainly played a part, but perhaps it has more to do with the total cartoonish detachment the average surfer feels looking at these mutant waves, finding it far more relatable to watch someone ripping Snapper when it’s 3 foot and perfect. Or maybe surfing’s eternal feedback loop just hasn’t made us feel sentimental about guys wearing energy-drink trucker hats yet. “Slab surfing” doesn’t have an entry in the Encyclopedia of Surfing, despite being historic on every level. Maybe it was too underground, too provincial, or maybe, like a slab wave itself, the whole thing was so momentary that it simply imploded, leaving only some hissing whitewater and a bunch of guys held together with screws, hobbling around jobsites with some good stories. Mathews — himself hobbling after a slab wipeout that initially had doctors telling him he may never walk again — laments the fact that these guys never truly got their day in the sun. On the other hand, Mathews has surfed with them enough to know they live in a different world — a world decoupled from the vainglorious ideal of the big-wave rider, a world without a fame metric and a world where surfing stays pure in a way that can happen only when it’s done without a paycheck. Mathews has a theory on the psychology behind the hard-charging tradesman. “It’s bullshit that you only do something purely for the love of doing it,” he says. “That you only do it for you. There’s always some level of acknowledgement you’re after by doing something, especially something as crazy as slab surfing. You want some form of acknowledgement, but these guys don’t want it from the rest of the world; they just want it from their mates. They’re famous with their mates and that’s enough.” One phone call in June 2016 put Mathews’ theory to the test. After getting word that all the big-ticket sponsored pros pulled out of the Cape Fear event, Mathews scrolled through his phone and by lunchtime had pulled together a “Star Wars” Cantina of firemen, fishermen and carpet layers from all corners of the country. If they surfed like the maddest of mad dogs with just their mates around, what would they do when the world was watching? 72
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Derrick Disney, San Diego County. Photo by GLASER
Moments of liquid bliss from California, Tahiti, New Zealand and beyond 75
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The Wedge. Photo by WOODWORTH
South swell secret spot. Photo by MORGAN
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Bay of Plenty, New Zealand. Photo by ESTRADA
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Peter Devries, Canada. Photo by PALADINO
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William Aliotti, Tahiti. Photo by THOUARD
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2017 SURFER AWARDS
WATCH IT ON SURFERAWARDS.COM
DECEMBER 6, 2017 SHOW BEGINS 8pm HST
A CELEBRATION OF SURFING
PRESENTED BY
Channel Islands Surfboards
CISURFBOARDS.COM
Essential Surf Pack
Wings Changing Towel
Built-in accessory organizer pockets (fins/ wax/ sun block). Waterproof roll down wetsuit compartment, padded straps, sunglass pocket, two water bottle pockets. $115
Ease of use. Hiding from the sun. Appeasing your inner Yeti. Whatever your reason, the Wings Changing Towel makes it better. 100 percent cotton. $64
Curren & Cali Hex Onesie
RTM-TECH 2
While you might not be getting your infant on a board yet, you definitely want them comfortable and getting their mind on the ocean! $25
Tech 2 honeycomb combined with the Al Merrick template is designed with a supported base of 12K weave going into a more flexible tip with unidirectional carbon that offers faster response time. A solid flex pattern with the honeycomb hexagonal core is designed to perform in a variety of conditions and has a wide base for drive off the bottom, more rake for big carves, and a finer tip for release off the top. $95
CI Fin Wallet
Conner Coffin Signature Pad
Well-described as the “surf purse,” this thing organizes your surf gear into one neat and tidy area. Separate compartments keep your wax waxy and the clean stuff clean. Plenty of space for three sets of fins, a leash, sunblock, ding repair, wax, and first aid necessities. Keep it stocked and never worry about being stranded at the beach without the goods. $45
Conner’s updated pad for 2017 features a slightly different template, new colorways, and an increased kick height to 28mm. Mixed groove technology features vertical grooves in the traction running front to back, creating increased traction side to side without disrupting front-to-back foot movement. $41
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Patagonia
PATAGONIA.COM/SURF
Gerry Lopez Collection
Natural Rubber Yulex® Wetsuits
Inspired by a life spent chasing waves in both liquid and frozen form. “My use of camouflage on surfboards started from a functional need. In the early days at G-Land, the glare off our boards was searing our eyes. Each pattern I chose came from something I’d seen on airplanes, tanks or ships. It’s a particularly effective scheme that breaks up an outline —a tactic that underlines the true purpose of camouflage design.” — GERRY LOPEZ
A high-performance, neoprene-free wetsuit made of 85 percent Yulex® natural rubber/15 percent synthetic rubber by polymer content; the natural rubber is derived from sources that are Forest Stewardship Council™ certified by the Rainforest Alliance. Men’s R1® Lite Yulex® Front-Zip Full Suit: $329, Men’s R2® Yulex® Front-Zip Full Suit: $449, Women’s R3® Yulex® Back-Zip Full Suit: $469
Pataloha®
Stretch Planing
This season’s limited edition Pataloha® print features an original print in honor of the Polynesian Voyaging Society, the Mālama Honua voyage and the return of Hōkūle‘a to Hawai'i. This beautiful hardcover book chronicles Hōkūle‘a’s epic voyage circumnavigating the globe using traditional Polynesian wayfinding techniques. Interwoven with voices of the master navigators and crewmembers. Patagonia Malama Honua (Hardcover Book): $60, Patagonia Women’s Limited Edition Pataloha™ Dress: $99, Patagonia Men’s Malihini Pataloha® Shirt: $89
We took our 100-percent recycled polyester Stretch Planing Boardshorts fabric and created the Stretch Terre Planing Hoody, a lightweight hoody with a DWR finish and 50+ UPF. Stretch fabric for freedom of motion; thumb loops keep sleeves in place while paddling or kiting. Designed to protect you from the elements both in and out of the water. Fair Trade Certified™ sewing. M’s & W’s Stretch Terre Planing Hoody: $119, Stretch Planing Board Shorts: $79
Responsibili-Tee® Shirts
Stretch Hydro Planing Boardshorts
From source materials to final production, we’re always looking for new ways to lighten our footprint on the planet. It’s an approach that applies to even the simplest of products, and our Responsibili-Tee shirts are just one example. They’re made from a soft 50/50 blend of recycled cotton and postconsumer recycled polyester. Fair Trade Certified™ sewing. Long-Sleeved Responsibili-Tee™: $45, Responsibili-Tee® : $35, Pods On It Organic Cotton/Poly T-Shirt: $29
Our most technical boardshorts, these are made from superlight, fast-drying 100-percent recycled polyester with 2-way mechanical stretch that lets you push your limits in any kind of surf. 50+ UPF sun protection; length is 21”. Fair Trade Certified™ sewing. $89
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Nixon
Nixon
NIXON.COM/US/EN
NIXON.COM/US/EN
Misson SS
Sentry
Featuring a 10-ATM water resistance rating and real-time surf data from Surfline, the Mission SS is compatible with both Android and iPhone and is built to withstand life in the water. $425
The Sentry truly raises the bar in terms of classically good-looking timepieces. Available in a sleek, stainless steel band or genuine leather band that both work well for business or pleasure. $150 – $250
Cuater
Aluminati Skateboards
CUATER.COM
WWW.ALUMINATIBOARDS.COM
Kruzers, Static, Bob
Aluminati Flip Side Skateboard
Designed to infuse style and function, our products strive to complete your everyday outfit. We pride ourselves on paying attention to the detail while providing you with a high-quality product you will want to hold onto. Kruzers: $85, Static: $40, Bob: $35
Introducing Aluminati’s Flip Side Skateboard shown on our 30-inch Bullnose deck. The Bullnose draws inspiration from vintage cruisers, but adds modern technology with concave and channels to advance performance while maintaining strength and flexibility. $140
Dragon
Dragon
DRAGONALLIANCE.COM
DRAGONALLIANCE.COM
Proflect – Matte Black with Sky Blue Ion lenses
The Jam H2O – Matte Black with Performance Polarized Grey lenses
Casually straddling the line between fashion and function, the Proflect is a confident, go-anywhere frame that exemplifies the evolution of Dragon DNA. Delivering standout style from the beach to the city streets, this round, dual lens frame features a distinctive chrome metal brow bar and a keyhole nose bridge with integrated soft, rubber nose pads. Sculpted, concave temple arms feature metal logo details and soft rubber inserts for exceptional fit and all-day comfort. $150
Blending retro sport styling with truly modern refinements, The Jam emerged as an instant classic to become our most popular frame. This Italian-made frame features clean, confident lines highlighted by metal badge detailing at the temple. Seemingly endless color and lens combinations mean The Jam offers options for everyone and every taste. $180
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Kala Brand Music Co.
KALABRAND.COM
Kala Glow-in-the-Dark Waterman Ukulele
Kala Ukadelic Mendhi Ukulele
The Waterman is a high-quality, affordable soprano ukulele that sounds great! The Glow-in-the-Dark Waterman is made of composite plastic and designed to take to the beach, the river, the lake or the mountains. Take it anywhere! Available in 12 colors. $70
Like the Kala Waterman Ukulele, the Ukadelic line is water-resistant, durable, easy to clean and made of ABS composite plastic, but with original artwork. It comes with a tote bag, mini-quick start guide, and access to the FREE Kala App to help you learn songs and get in tune. Available in 8 designs. $70
Kala KA-15S
Surf Green Makala Shark Ukulele
The KA-15S is the world’s most popular ukulele. Made of laminate and satin mahogany with a laser-etched sound hole, this high-quality soprano ukulele is perfect for everyone. It looks great and sounds great! $79
The Makala Shark Ukulele in vintage “surf green” is one of seven colorful soprano ukes with a Shark bridge. It is a terrific deal that looks and sounds great. All Kala and Makala ukuleles come with high-quality tuners and Aquila strings. This color also comes in a concert size. $70
Mako Blue Makala Shark Ukulele
Kala Pacific Walnut Soprano Ukulele
The Makala Shark Ukulele in a vintage “mako blue” is one of seven colorful soprano ukes with a Shark bridge. It is a terrific deal that looks and sounds great. All Kala and Makala ukuleles come with high-quality tuners and Aquila strings. This color also comes in a concert size. $70
The light brown body of the Pacific Walnut line is contrasted by the rich, dark brown patterns in the grain. The remarkable look created by this contrast gives this ukulele a striking boldness. Also available in concert, tenor and tenor with EQ. $185
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FCS
Reef
SURFFCS.COM
REEF.COM
FCSII Kolohe Andino Signature Fin
Reef X Surfer Sandal
The best way to describe Kolohe’s style of surfing is fast and explosive. He likes to push hard off the bottom and then perform dynamic turns on and above the lip. The well-balanced nature of the KA template facilitates this style of surfing perfectly. Kolohe’s template delivers a lively mix of drive, pivot and release. New updated colors come in small, medium and large. $120
Born in 1960, SURFER Magazine was there to document a cultural revolution, fueled in the early days by psychedelic inclinations and an unquenchable thirst for adventure. This collection consists of sandals and tees inspired by vintage SURFER covers, breathing new life into the past. With a unique pop-out design, the sandals provide a unique visual and wearable experience while preserving a slice of surfing history. The Reef X Surfer collection is available at surf shops and select retailers starting October 1, 2017. A perfect gift for the surfer who appreciates surfing’s freewheeling roots. $26- $30 MSRP.
FCS
Seiko Prospex
SURFFCS.COM
FCS Kolohe Andino Signature Traction
Seiko Prospex Automatic Diver
This diver’s watch is designed with a black ion stainless steel case and a silicone strap featuring a black bezel with highlights of yellow. The black dial displays a date calendar with LumiBrite hands and markers. Automatic movement allows self and automatic winding capabilities with a power reserve of approximately 41 hours. 200M Water Resistant. $525
Kolohe Andino’s 3-piece pad features a custom groove, high kick tail, sanded surfaces for enhanced grip, channels for extra resistance, and is ultra-thin for sensitivity. “I move my back foot around a bunch when I surf, sometimes I even stand on the kick when I’m turning, so everything on this pad had been designed to balance movement then grip, when and where I need it.” – Kolohe Andino. $42
FCS
SEIKOUSA.COM
Indo Board Balance Trainer
SURFFCS.COM
FCSII Mick Fanning Signature Fin
WWW.INDOBOARD.COM
Indo Board Original Training Package with Wave Photo Graphic
The Indo Board Original Training Package features a photo graphic of a classic Samoan barrel! This training setup enables you to enjoy a full body, surfing specific workout at home or in the gym. Have fun while you improve your surfing performance with guaranteed results! Used by so many surfing professionals— the list is too long! “Get Indo It” every day!
Designed in collaboration with Mick Fanning. The high degree of sweep (rake) combined with a full, elongated tip makes this template ideal for surfers who like to perform long, drawn-out carves with power and flow. This fin has plenty of drive and control, and will respond quickly at high speeds due to the thinner foil and the unique bevel on the leading edge. $120
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Greenlight Surf Supply WWW.GREENLIGHTSURFSUPPLY.COM
Quiksilver
SURFER Magazine Surfboard Shaping Kit
Quiksilver Gifts You’ve Got to Give: Slash Vee Boardshort, Carver Suede Sandals and Carbon LC6 Surf Traction Pad
Give (or get) the gift of pride. Design, shape and surf your own signature boards for only $169. Kits include professional quality materials like Greenlight’s Engineered EPS Surfboard Foam, Epoxy resin, fiberglass, leash plug, custom logo printing paper, and fin system of your choice. Don’t know how to shape? No problem! Check out our Surfboard Design and Surfboard Building Guides at www.greenlightsurfsupply.com as well as our friendly and outstanding customer service.
Whether you’re shopping for yourself or for others, these Quiksilver essentials should be at the top of your list. The Slash Vee Boardshorts ($65) offer 4-way stretch material treated with Quiksilver’s DryFlight technology for flexible, water-repellent performance. The Carver Suede Sandals ($25) mesh a durable rubber outsole with a soft suede leather upper, providing a perfect fit for any occasion. And you’ll never want to paddle out without the Carbon LC6 Surf Traction Pad ($59).
Arbor Skateboards
QUIKSILVER.COM
SURFER x United Surf
ARBORCOLLECTIVE.COM
UNITEDSURF.COM/COLLECTIONS/SURFER-GEAR
Foundation Series, Pilsner
SURFER Apparel Collection
The 28.75" long Pilsner is the perfect around-town mini cruiser. It’s built with a sustainably sourced Black Walnut top, Paris reverse kingpin trucks, and Arbor Easy Rider wheels. The Foundation Series is designed to honor late ‘50s/early ’60s era of surfboard design–a time when wood was king. The Pilsner is also available with a palisander or traditional grip tape top.
SURFER is the original surf magazine and has celebrated our frenetic, wave-obsessed culture since 1960, when founder John Severson published the very first issue with his own hand-drawn logo on the cover. Our first collection of SURFER gear is much like the magazine itself: clean and bold, paying homage to surfing’s past while creating a look and feel that are unmistakably modern.
COLT Surfboards
Merge4
COLTSURFBOARDS.COM/SURFER/
Super Small Wave Colternator™, Fish Colternator™
MERGE4.COM
Nathan Fletcher Bomb Drop Sock, Surf Freak Sock, Landon McNamara Rasta Sock
Beyond magnificent in appearance, style and comfort, the MERGE4 socks are constructed like no other. Your soles are GRIPPED by our deviously interesting “CULT-WEAVE” which cushions what is sometimes called the “arch” area. YES, you heard correctly: MERGE4 “GRIPS YOUR SOLE”. From Landon’s smooth style to Nathan’s huge cajones to the iconic art of Jimbo Phillips, these are socks that you and your feet need.
This New Year make any day worthwhile with a custom Super Small Wave Colternator™ made for below average surf. Ideal for ankle-to-head high waves. Sizes 4'- 6' x 15"- 20". This Fish Colternator™ is for the person that loves fishes. Rides as a twin, quad or finless. Ideal for ankle-high to overhead waves. Sizes 5' - 6' x 15"-18". Prices vary based on customization. Grab a gift certificate or start customizing yours today.
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Oakley
OAKLEY.COM
Frogskins Lite Prizm
Crossrange Patch Prizm
Influenced by sport and pop culture, the Frogskins Lite Collection is the next evolution of the brand’s most iconic lifestyle sunglass, the Frogskins. The new collection sports a classic semi-rimless frame design and features Oakley’s leading performance technology. $143
Combining a stylish, everyday design with performance features, Crossrange Patch comes with two interchangeable temples and nosepads to adapt from a lifestyle sunglass to an active style. $183
Holbrook Polarized Dark Ink Fade
Latch Prizm
Holbrook is a timeless, classic design fused with modern Oakley technology. The iconic design features a faded black-to-grey frame accented by metal rivets for a bold look that blends function and style. $173
As a result from a creative collaboration with influential athletes, this design is shaped with a classic keyhole bridge and the curves of rounded lens orbitals and is engineered with the convenience of an interior kick-up feature that lets you clip it to your shirt. $163
Oakley FS Full Zip Fleece
Oakley FS Color Block Backpack
Designed with a panel over French terry, this is street style that’s ready to perform, and along with a squared logo on the chest, it sports a bold logo print on the hood. An eyewear pocket adds convenience to this comfortable full-zip design. $110
Made of polyester that can handle abuse, this premium pack offers the best of form and function. The side mesh pocket is great for keeping eyewear handy, and additional storage features range from zip pockets to webbing loops for attachments. $110
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Come feel the vibe.
STATEMENT OF OWNERSHIP As required by Title 39, Section 3685 United States Code below is the Statement of Ownership, Management, and Circulation of Surfer. 1.
Publication Title: Surfer
2. Publication Number: 0039-6036 3.
Filing Date: 10/01/17
4. Issue Frequency: April, May, June, August, Sep, Oct, Dec, Feb 5.
Number of Issues Published Annually: 8
6. Annual Subscription Price: $20.00 7.
Complete Mailing Address of Known Office of Publication: 261 Madison Avenue, 6th Floor, New York, NY 10016. Contact Person: Brian Laboe, Telephone: 212-915-4182
8. Complete Mailing Address of Headquarters or General Business Office of Publisher: TEN: The Enthusiast Network, LLC, 2831 S. Douglas St. El Segundo, CA 90245 9. Publisher: Tony Perez, 2052 Corte Del Nogal Suite 100, Carlsbad, CA 92011; Editor: Todd Prodanovich, 2052 Corte Del Nogal Suite 100, Carlsbad, CA 92011; Managing Editor: Kasey Kelley, 2052 Corte Del Nogal Suite 100, Carlsbad, CA 92011 10. Owner: TEN: The Enthusiast Network, LLC, 2052 831 S. Douglas St. El Segundo, CA 90245 11. Known Bondholders, Mortgagees, and Other Security Holders Owning or Holding 1 Percent or More of Total Amount of Bonds, Mortgages or Other Securities: None
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12. Tax Status: (For completion by nonprofit organizations authorized to mail at nonprofit rate) (Check one) The purpose, function, and nonprofit status of this organization and the exempt status for federal income tax purposes
� Has Not Changed During Preceding 12 Months Has Changed During the Preceding 12 Months
13. Publication Title: Surfer 14. Issue Date for Circulation Data Below: October #58.6 ‘17 15. Extent and Nature of Circulation: Average No. Copies No. of Copies of Each Issue During Single Issue Preceding 12 Months Published Nearest to Filing Date a. Total number of copies 56,060 b. Paid Circulation (by mail and outside the mail) 1. Mailed Outside-County Paid Subscriptions Stated on PS Form 3541 42,235 2. Mailed In-County Paid Subscriptions Stated on PS Form 3541 0 3. Paid Distribution Outside the Mails Including Sales Through Dealers and Carriers, Street Vendors, Counter Sales and Other Paid Distribution Outside USPS 3,391 4. Paid Distribution by Other ClasseS of Mail Through the USPS 0 c. Total Paid Distribution 45,626 d. Free or Nominal Rate Distribution (By Mail and Outside the Mail) 1. Free or Nominal Rate OutsideCounty Copies included on PS Form 3541 2,840 2. Free or Nominal Rate In-County Copies included on PS Form 3541 0 3. Free or Nominal Rate Copies Mailed at Other Classes ThroughThe USPS 0 4. Free or Nominal Rate Distribution Outside the Mail 538 e. Total Free or Nominal Rate Distribution 3,377 f. Total Distribution 49,004 g. Copies not Distributed 7,057 h. Total 56,060 i. Percent Paid 93.1%
48,905
39,217 0
2,742 0 41,959
2,658 0 0 0 2,658 44,617 4,288 48,905 94%
16. Extent and Nature of Circulation: Average No. Copies No. of Copies of Each Issue During Single Issue Preceding 12 Months Published Nearest to Filing Date
Turtle Bay Resort
HAWAII
Jax Beach
FLORIDA
Where
NEXT
a. Paid Electronic Copies b. Total Paid Print Copies (Line 15C) + Paid Electronic Copies (Line 16A) c. Total Print Distribution (Line15F) + Paid Electronic Copies (Line 16A) d. Percent Paid (Both Print & Electronic Copies) (16b divided by 16c × 100))
17,463
17,806
63,089
59,765
66,467
62,423
94.9%
95.7%
� I Certify that 50% of all my distributed Copies (Electronic & Print) are paid above a nominal Price
17. Publication of Statement of Ownership will be printed in the: Dec #58.7 2017 issue of this publication. 18. Signature and Title of Editor, Publisher, Business Manager, or Owner Thomas Slater, SVP Consumer Marketing 10/1/2017
surferthebar.com For more info contact Greg Saig at info@surferthebar.com
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M I D - A T L A N T I C C H A M P I O N S
R E G I O N A L
F O U N D E D : 1976 N U M B E R O F L O CAT I O N S: 1 L O CAT I O N : WRIGHTSVILLE BEACH, NC N U M B E R O F E M PLOY E E S: 25
PHOTO:GODWIN
(L- R) JUSTIN PARR EMPLOYEE OWEN MOSS TEAM RIDER DYL AN KOWAL SKI TEAM RIDER TIM MARTIN EMPLOYEE
SOUTHWEST SUN DIEGO
SOUTHEAST SUNRISE
NORTHEAST 7TH STREET
NORTHWEST PACIFIC WAVE
After having to reschedule due to a lack of waves earlier this year, the Mid-Atlantic Oakley Surf Shop Challenge finally got underway in August--and finally produced a regional winner. Eight of the Mid-Atlantic’s most popular surf shops gathered at Jennette’s Pier in Nags Head, where they were met with classic 3- to 4-foot ESE swell from a fading Hurricane Gert. While shops like 17th Street Surf Shop and Outer Banks Boarding Co. came close to clenching the regional title, it was Sweetwater Surf Shop who took the win once again. Later this year, the squad representing Sweetwater will join the six other regional winners in Nicaragua for the 2017 Oakley Surf Shop Challenge National Championship.
WEST HSS
HAWAII T&C SURF
M I D - AT L A NTI C SW E E T WATE R
N ATI O N A L S OCT 23-27
SURFSHOPCHALLENGE.COM #SURFSHOPCHALLENGE
Perfect Day, Photo by RAMBO ESTRADA It might be hard to discern from an aerial perspective, but this wave in New Zealand isn’t exactly a world-class spot. According to surf photographer Rambo Estrada, out of all the breaks located along the North Island’s east coast, this one is far from being the star. But even the worst waves can have their day in the sun. “Usually the beach is just a weak little closeout,” says Estrada. “But occasionally, on the right conditions, it can spark up some perfect little wedges. On this day in particular, there were fun A-frames up and down the beach and no one was even out.”
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Surfer (ISSN # 0039-6036), December 2017, Vol. 58 No. 7. Published eight times a year (February, April, May, June, August, September, October, December) by TEN: The Enthusiast Network, LLC, 261 Madison Ave. 6th Floor, New York, NY 10016. Copyright © 2017 by TEN:
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