DEEP Surf Magazine 2011 July August

Hostels & Hideouts by Tracht DEEPZINE.COM

Nick Presniakov Photo Essay July~August 2011 • Volume 6 / No. 4

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DEEP SURF MAGAZINE July /August 2011

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Hey, where’s your PFD? An island fox on Santa Cruz Island looks for a free ride.

COVER SHOT Asphalt turned to sand on the trail to this forgotten point. Dan Hamlin and friend make the trek with fingers crossed for perfect conditions.

Photo by Chris Burkard

Andres Nuño andres@deepzine.com EDITOR:

Chuck Graham chuck@deepzine.com GRAPHIC DESIGN:

Danielle Siano

Contributing Designer:

Zack Paul (forestowl.net) SALES: VENTURA COUNTY

Carrie Bethurem carrie@deepzine.com SAN LUIS OBISPO COUNTY

Chris Langley chris.l@deepzine.com

DEEP Surf Magazine

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DEEP SURF MAGAZINE July /August 2011

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS:

Craig Comen Nicole De Leon Glenn Dubock Chuck Graham Dan Hamlin Michael Kew L. Paul Mann Kara Petersen David Pu’u Frankie Soares Shawn Tracht

CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS:

Andy Bowlin Chris Burkard Glenn Dubock Chuck Graham Michael Kew

Twitter@DEEPocho

Jeremy Kopeski Jason MacMurray L. Paul Mann Jeff Pfost Nick Presniakov David Pu’u Jason Rath Steve Shlens Jennifer Sirchuk Bill Tover Shawn Tracht Walden Surfboards ASP/ Kirstin

Published by RMG Ventures, LLC Mike VanStry, President Gary L. Dobbins, Vice President 4856 Carpinteria Ave., Carpinteria, CA 93013 Tel: 805.684.4428

SUPPORTING STAFF:

STORY SUBMISSIONS:

Lea Boyd Peter Dugré Betty Lloyd Allie Rigonati Kris Whittenton

ADVERTISING INQUIRIES:

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PHOTO: CHUCK GRAHAM

EL DIRECTOR:

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FEATURES

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18 Travel Pacific Northwest

DEEP SURF MAGAZINE July /August 2011

Hostels & Hideouts

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Nick Presniakov Photo Essay A Swim in the Park

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News

10

Tidelines

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Comen Sense

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Board Trachting

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Northern Exposure

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Channel Crossing

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Hostels & Hideouts

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Dropping In On

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Ladies Room

35

Surf Shop Downlow

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Music + Entertainment

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DEEP Reviews

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Green Room

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Final Frames

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Letter from the Editor July/August 2011 Volume 6, Issue 4

LIFE IS WHAT YOU M AKE OF IT and that includes its adventures—whatever

DUBOCK.COM

Enjoy.

Chuck Graham Editor DEEP Surf Magazine

WHO’S ON BOARD NICK PRESNIAKOV Photographer Nick Presniakov had his first surf photographs published in 2005 by legendary SURFING Magazine photo editor Larry “Flame” Moore. Since then his images have been seen in national and international publications. Presniakov can often be found surfing his homebreak, Hammonds, or pursuing other outdoor adventures.

JEFF PFOST Photographer Jeff Pfost grew up surfing in Pismo Beach, and never had a photo of himself. Once he could afford a decent camera and had a little extra time, he honed in his photography skills by going out and shooting photos of everyone as much as he could. ‘I love just being in the ocean and looking back at the end of the day at the captured moments. Capturing those moments is truly amazing.”

CHEC

K IT

L OCAL C LOTH ES . COM

defines adventure for you. For me it’s about making the most of opportunities and experiencing as much as I can with camera in hand. Surf trips are nice, but so are paddling and backpacking trips along with some time spent in the mountains. The best ones are a combination of two, say paddling and surfing.

I get as much enjoyment, if not more, doing this at home than being abroad.

Living along the central and south coasts, we are fortunate to experience a wealth of opportunities at our doorstep. Where else do mountains virtually run down to the ocean with a national park anywhere from 11 to 40 miles off the coastline?

If that’s not enough, there is more backcountry acreage behind that east to west range for several lifetimes to explore. At three hours away lies the desert and the Eastern Sierras are five hours away—one helluva backyard.

Our annual adventure issue of DEEP keeps this theme close to the heart. Central coast scribe Shawn Tracht travels by train, stays in hostels and surfs our coast north to south. I’ve always wanted to paddle my kayak home from the islands and did last January, and globetrotter Michael Kew catches a few waves in India.

Everyone has their own idea of adventure. It might not become one until something goes awry and you are forced to figure things out for yourself. It may be something as simple as surfing a local wave you’ve never surfed before. In any event and whatever path you choose, slow down and enjoy the moment. Before you know it, you’ll be thinking, planning and executing the next one.

V IDEO

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News

Bobby Martinez had his best finish in over a year with his =5th in Brazil.

Big Shift in the Ranks

by Chuck Graham

A

fter winning the first ASP World Championship Tour event at Snapper Rocks, 10-time world champ Kelly Slater has stumbled a little bit, compiling an =5th at the Rip Curl Pro at Bells Beach last April 19 through 30 and an uncharacteristic for him =13th at the recent the Billabong Rio Pro at Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, May 11 through 22.

Slater still finds himself in third on the current rankings and is well within striking distance of Australian Joel Parkinson, who is in second and Adriano de Souza of Brazil, the current number one. Parkinson won the Bells event, and de Souza rode the home crowd to victory in Rio.

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DEEP SURF MAGAZINE July /August 2011

Santa Barbara local Bobby Martinez garnered his best result in more than a year, taking out Slater in a close heat in the third round in Brazil.

Martinez eventually finished with an =5th. He jumped from the bottom dwellers to 14th on the current ratings ladder, a much needed result to make the midway cut-off.

Still no sign of Ventura’s Dane Reynolds; his injured knee still not healed or strong enough to compete. He’s missed the first three events. He had knee surgery in mid January, and it was reported that he would be out for 10 weeks. The next event isn’t until July 14 through 24 at Jeffreys Bay, South Africa.

Left to Right: Jungle Hut by Sean Anderson; Bat Board by Randy Noborikawa.

News

Action Sports Movies Headline Ventura Film Festival

T

he Ventura Film Festival will take place July 8 through 18, and various surf, ocean adventure and skate films will be shown. The Ventura Film Festival is the largest and most prestigious film festival in Ventura County with hundreds of films and other exciting parties and activities over a 10-day period each summer.

A list of adventure films to be shown include, “Destination 3º,” “Ocean Monk,” “Destination Orcas,” “The Still Point,” “I just Love to Paddle,” “Fiberglass and Megapixels,” “Calling on Others,” “Stoked & Broke,” “God Went Surfing with the Devil,” “Way of the Ocean—Australia,” “Down With the Ship,” “The Westsiders,” and “Best of the Skimshady Show.”

The festival will be raising money and awareness for forest and ocean preservation and the environment. Tickets are $16 for general admission per film. For more information and the film schedules visit www.venturafilmfestival.org.

Between the opening and closing nights there will be 11 days and over 200 film screenings at various theaters across the city of Ventura including the Majestic Ventura Theater, Century 10 Downtown Theaters, the Regency Theaters and the Ventura Beach Marriott’s grand ballroom.

The Westsiders

Check us out online! www.DEEPZINE.com Read these stories online today: »» DEEP introduces you to five well-known Surf Camps along the Central Coast. »» 2011 Surf Day Celebration photos »» Easy Archive System allows you to read previous issues online »» Central Coast Surf Shop Directory I Just Love to Paddle

Stoked and Broke

Rogue Wave Surf Art Show at Anderson ART Collective

More Art…

ANDERSON ART COLLECTIVE’S annual Rogue Wave III art show will have their opening reception on Saturday, July 2 from 5 to 8 p.m. “Rogue Wave III offers the roguish energies that arise when the contemporary art world meets quintessential surf culture,” according to Leigh-Anne Anderson.

Rogue Wave III will feature paintings, mixed media surfboards, sculpture and installations, including works by Blakeney Sanford, South African artist Paul Roux and native Californian Randy Noborikawa.

A portion of the proceeds supports the SB Chapter of the Surfrider Foundation in their actions to preserve the Gaviota Coast. “After visiting the gallery and seeing the remarkable scope of this family’s creativity, we at Surfrider Santa Barbara are honored to be among the groups that the Anderson ART Collective support” said Sandy Lejeune, Chair of the Santa Barbara Surfrider Foundation.

Anderson ART Collective is located at 410 Palm Avenue, Unit A2, in Carpinteria. The gallery is open Friday, Saturday and Sunday from noon until 5 p.m. or by appointment. For more information visit www.andersonARTcollective.com or call (805) 684-8783.

WETSAND SURF SHOP is hosting

SAND60 on Saturday, July 24 from 6 to 10 p.m. SAND60 is an art show featuring Hillary Amborn, Chris Charney, Kim Diggs, Meghan Fontino, Jason Frazier, Shannon Menzel, Randy Noborikawa, Alison Soens, Scott Soens, Ralph Silerio and Sean Tully. All art will be $60.

Wetsand is located at 446 East Main Street in downtown Ventura. For more information call (800) 750-7501.

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Tidelines

COLUMN by

Michael Kew Carpinteria’s Michael Kew is a writer who first became involved with magazine production when he was 12. In the 23 years since, Kew has been published extensively in many surfing and international travel magazines, newspapers, websites and books.

MALARIA, clogged sewers, brown

tap water, trash-strewn streets— sanitation is a big void in Moroni, once the seat of a powerful sultanate, a bustling nexus of Swahili commerce home to 12 sultans. In the 15th and 16th centuries, Comoros prospered— Oman and nearby Zanzibar were favored partners. Slaves and spices were the goods of choice, drawing immigrants from Persia, Madagascar, Asia, Africa, and the Arab desert to these palmy volcanic shores, injecting Islam into the heart of an otherwise eclectic diaspora.

“My people come from many people,” said a white-robed Comorian man sitting on the steps of the harborside Friday mosque. He was one of the rare locals who spoke English. “But we are one, you see.

Allah-u-Akbar—God is great. This do you know? There is no god but God. God is great.”

“Yes,” I said. “God is great.

Where is the ferry office?”

Priority, aside from enjoying this grim Moroni day, was obtaining boat tickets to leave town because Grande Comore lacked waves and

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DEEP SURF MAGAZINE July /August 2011

because the planes of Comores Aviation were too small for surfboards.

A 45-mile sail to the southeast, lush Anjouan was the archipelago’s promised land, home to the varied reef pass and the black-sand beachbreak, the slabby point and the wind-sheltered cove, the nearest surfer thousands of miles away.

“Sachet, monsieur! Sachet!

Sachet, s’il vous plaît!” People— mostly children—began vomiting within an hour out from Moroni’s harbor, frantically screaming for the blue plastic bags (sachets) that a man darting around the deck was dispersing, trying to reach people before they puked onto the ship or someone next to them. Instead of just vomiting over the gunwales and into the sea, a Comorian would stick his or her head into a bag, spew, then pass the bag to anyone in vicinity who was also ill, assuming they hadn’t expelled onto the deck already. When a bag was deemed full, the sachet man would grab it, tie it shut, and toss it overboard.

Initially since it was dark and since we couldn’t really see what was

happening, Emiliano and I thought it was a game. Erwan corrected us.

“It’s disgusting,” he said. Randy, sitting on the deck amongst several seasick locals, caught the brunt of it, narrowly avoiding random sprays of chunky white puke.

“Looks like they all ate the same thing,” John said.

“Cassava,” I said.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Emi said, grinning.

We’d left an hour before sunset— babies crying, strong wind, whale spouts, clearing skies—and when darkness fell, reality set in.

“Welcome to the Hell Ship,” John said, lighting a cigarette.

“We’re in for a long night.”

The Anjouan-registered Shissiwani-II was an old 120-foot Norwegian trawler, a sad and filthy hunk of rusted iron, topping maybe four knots at full throttle, overloaded with cargo and smelly Comorians.

The ship had no toilets, no food, no lights, no shelter, nowhere to sleep, only a few dirty plastic chairs to sit on. The crossing was to consume 14 hours: 10 hours of sailing followed by four hours on the boat outside

Mutsamudu’s harbor, waiting for the Anjouan customs office to open.

The lower decks were littered with garbage, bits of rope and wire, dirt, plastic bags, bald tires, goats, ratty chickens running amok. Up on the top deck, where we were crammed in with the other passengers, were lines of the crew’s drying clothes, flapping in the wind—not much else except a few crates of bottles and chunky rice sacks of dubious contents. The air smelled of crap, diesel smoke, sweat, and vomit.

Eventually the crowd fell silent.

Immense darkness at sea, a sliver of moon, countless stars and the Southern Cross. Judging from the rough sea, there was plenty of swell. I tried to doze partially supine on some chunky bags, but a man soon scolded me—“Fragile!”

People were jammed into corners and in the corridors, sleeping almost on top of each other. The deck was covered with puke. I put my iPod on and tried to zone out for the duration, but its battery died as we neared Anjouan, which was sighted at 1:45 a.m. 

PHOTO: MICHAEL KEW

The Hell Ship

Home for the next 14 hours.

Comen Sense o

COLUMN by

CHUCK GRAHAM

Craig Comen Long time central and north coast surfer Craig Comen leads kayak tours in Mendocino and lives with his family in the redwoods.

Summer Special on

The author on a routine paddle in his backyard heading to the beach.

Mindful Adventure

PHOTOS: CHUCK GRAHAM

WITH LIMITED TIME and

resources, one can have adventure at the fingertips, or even yet, in the imagination of the creative mind.

And so, I was taken by a piece in Surfer Magazine a while back about staying home and having it be the best surf trip of your life.

What got me the most was the way they were being unique and looking at ways of approaching your everyday situation as an adventure or world-class surf opportunity. Just by altering our perception a little­­—such as driving a different direction or taking the time to camp at a local beach—we can find new horizons in places we never knew existed before.

Adventure does not have to be life threatening. Anything a little out of the ordinary that arouses psychological or physiological stimuli will do. This can easily be accomplished for us “average folk” (unless your name is Laird or JOB) and just a little tweak on even your normal day can bring about such

change. Try kayaking into a break for instance, instead of driving, walking, bike riding, paddleboarding, or swimming.

The means are endless. Rincon, Campus Point, C-Street and other well-known spots can become the Uluwatus of old, the Chopes of tomorrow. On a SUP, a head-high wave seems like Waimea; on a bike, the Old Coast Highway brings back the California of the 1950s.

The possibilities are limitless, the boundaries inexhaustible. More often I find that I need to look at my surfing life in this light, not so much by doing big aerials, but through simple ways of getting those endorphins pumping through the bloodstream. Do not let the media fool you into thinking you need to drop over the ledge at every slab up and down the coast. Adventure awaits those who can think outside the box. Have at it … and be sure to let me know what you did differently as I need some ideas to bank off of myself.

S A L E

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Board Trachting COLUMN by

Shawn Tracht

FLETCHER BURTON

Shawn Tracht believes that, “ inspiration is a circle: You give it, and you get a lot back.”

Timberline Surfboards

The Pig

by SHAWN TRACHT

As cold winds blow offshore just before dusk—in the midst of a days closing, maroon hues and bursts from the California golden sun streak into our eyes—we are urged to paddle out for at least a couple more, no matter the conditions. All year, in this column, we have tested shortboards and fishes, however, dear longboarders, now is your time.

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have 16 boards in my quiver this year and only two have been longboards. And though my forte has not been that of a longboarder, the right longboard can sway the tide a bit—or at least make you realize why Alex Knost and Joel Tudor can’t quit the habit.

Now, I won’t say that I’m ready to retire the shortboard anytime soon, but this Timberline by Raphael Wolfe flowed with a slide and trim of surfing that I haven’t experienced before. It made it a first thought more often than I’d like to admit.

EPS foam core, covered with handmilled wood skins made from Paulownia, which is as light as balsa, with better flex, and solid wood rails. The Timberline Pig takes the best from the old and blends it with our favorite curves and fins for the way we ride and see waves in the now. The board was shaped

by Ryan Lovelace and myself. Ryan shaped the foam and I shaped the wood. We recommend low- to mid- 9 feet, but if you’re ready for it, we’ll go all the way up to 10 feet to polish off your pigging skills.

SHAPER’S TAKE—RAPHAEL WOLFE:

SURFER’S TAKE—SHAWN TRACHT:

“The Pig” is a classic shape that dates back to 1955. Velzy had the bright idea to turn the conventional longboard outline upside down— thus the invention of “The Pig.” Velzy’s original Pigs were made out of balsa wood that he used to dive and fish out of the ocean. The salt water had actually dried out the balsa wood and made it much lighter, so the boards were actually solid balsa.

Our wood Pig is a tribute to this bygone era. It’s made in the Timberline method—a recycled

Drawing my attention away from the new shortboard “radical,” which entails Kolohe Andino and John-John’s pysco-ripping attacks, I looked to a different model of surfing inspiration.

When talking to Wolfe about this board, my knowledge of longboard particulars was not defined.

He informed me that “The Pig,” was geared for high-lining, highand-tight along crispy crests down the line. I’m trying to put this into words and have come up with this: solid, slide and flow.

DEEP SURF MAGAZINE July /August 2011

Solid: The board was solid. A combination of recycled EPS foam, 1/8 inch Paulownia wood and fiberglass. This strength, durability and flex in the wood helped the board cut through bump and imperfections in the wave, keeping a positive glide and flow. Less fiberglass is needed because of the wood and the boards are actually the same weight as a foam board the same shape.

Slide: After fading a bottom turn, pushing this board off the bottom and back into the curl was a synchronizing meld of grab and subtle slide, as this flatter, rockered-board slipped itself into the corner of the pocket.

Flow: Once in the pocket, locked into the speed zone, the board became a solid, flowing, high-lining longboard bullet sliding with a sweet, soft flow of energy across new lines high across the waves feathery crest.

All in all, I still am a shortboard guy at heart, but dang-it, even upon re-reading this piece I just wrote, there is something about the gliding, bursting, speed flow feeling of that board that’s making me really want to go wax the thing up right now.

Shaper: Raphael Wolfe Board/Shape: The Pig How to order: Usually low to mid

9-ft. range, but 10-ft. by request Board’s specialty: Light-speed, high-

lining in any size surf. Works really well in the big stuff, too, because it’s so fast.

Fins: Single Fin This board is perfect for: Surfers

who want to experience pure speed, glide, and flow Surfboard tester Shawn Tracht’s normal shortboard: 5’10” Tracht ordered this board:

Just like the doctor ordered, 9’3” Shaper’s contact Information

Phone: (805) 426-9353 Website: www.timberlinesurf.com E-mail: info@timberlinesurf.com Surfer’s Blog: stsurf.com

PHOTOS LEFT TO RIGHT: JEFF PFOST, TRACHT / BROKEN CLOCK MEDIA.COM

I

Above: The author pigging out on the Central Coast. Right: Wolfe with the Pig.

Northern Exposure COLUMN by

Dan Hamlin Dan Hamlin was born and raised on the Central Coast. Having traveled extensively, he’s come to cherish his home coastline and the places of solitude it holds.

Adventure of a Lifetime Above: The author, keeping the adventure alive on the Central Coast. Below: Nate Tyler, Central Coast.

PHOTOS: CHRIS BURKARD

MY FIRST YEAR of surfing was

definitely one of my best, not so much because of anything to do with my progression or any memorable swells, but because it had such an impact on my life. That first year seemed to be a continuous adventure full of stoke and a magic that is hard to describe. At first, I was a bit of a reluctant convert to the wave riding community. Up until that point in my life, I hadn’t spent much time at the beach, and to be honest, anything bigger than a waist-high wave seemed huge to me. I suppose at first I stuck with it out of stubbornness; everyone told me how hard it was and I wanted to prove that I could do it. Then, one stormy day at the Pismo Pier, everything changed.

I somehow made it to my feet and got thrust down the line on a little inside left, the first wave that I actually rode down the line. It was one of the best feelings I had ever had and for the first time I knew I was a surfer. After that wave I would head down to the beach every chance I got with my board in tow. Every time I loaded up my parents’ truck, it felt

like I was going on the adventure of a lifetime. I loved everything about the pursuit; from the anticipation in the car ride down to the beach, to the highs and lows of pulling up to a spot and getting that first look at the waves, to the smell of the wax on my board, to the wonder and inspiration that would fill me by watching experienced surfers. Everything was awe-inspiring to me that first year.

I would frequently take day trips to Rincon back then. The crowds never seemed to bother me. I used to love walking up the point and watching all the “real” surfers. I didn’t really consider myself a “real” surfer yet, but somehow I felt that being at Rincon helped my status.

To me, back in those days Rincon was “the wave.” Somehow I felt that being at Rincon I was solidifying my claim as a surfer.

In retrospect, I think the reason that first year was so special was because of how new surfing was to me.

Each wave was the ride of my life and each wipeout seemed life-threatening.

The more adept at wave riding I became the more I felt I had accomplished something fantastic. I wasn’t worried about which pro got dropped by his sponsor or which surf company went corporate. To me, surfing was adventure, and surfers were pioneers of the Old West who bravely set out into the unknown; they were

the sailors from the days before the earth was mapped who would set sail in the face of inevitable peril with the goal of achieving something beyond themselves.

I know this may sound a bit silly or clichéd and I don’t want to overdramatize a sport that should be

fun, first and foremost, but my point is that during my first year of surfing, I was one stoked individual. Surfing was the most fun I’d ever had and I didn’t have to go to the ends of the earth to find adventure in it because every session was an adventure. I want to keep it that way.

TM

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West end of Santa Cruz Island.

Gray whales frolicking in the Santa Cruz Channel.

PHOTOS: CHUCK GRAHAM

Platform Habitat on the horizon.

Above from left: California sea lions rafting in the channel / Dawn on Bechers Bay overlooking Santa Cruz Island.

Channeling Pelagic Aspirations

by Chuck Graham An aberration of Mother Nature, the Potato Patch off the west end of Santa Cruz Island can be a volatile location for colliding eddies of long, swirling currents converging from as far away as Mexico and Alaska. As those eddies butt heads in the Santa Cruz Channel—potentially one of the most dangerous channel crossings in the world—they can oppose northwest swells forcing towering, openocean waves with great velocity.

It was consistently on my mind last January, yet hard to imagine given the unseasonably warm weather conditions. The eerily calm channel was a mirror of sheet glass with minimal swell, perfect for paddling my blue, sit-on-top kayak solo from the neatly groomed sand dunes at Water Canyon inside Bechers Bay on Santa Rosa Island, to West Point on Santa Cruz and eventually back home to Carpinteria. It was 75 degrees with sea salt crusted on my PFD—summer hadn’t been this kind.

A raucous pod of Risso’s dolphins briefly took my mind off any apprehensions I may have had on my kayak across the Santa Cruz Channel. Similar to a pilot whale, they’re typically dark gray, but the constant sparring amongst

Risso’s pods leaves many with white scarring. They were easily identifiable as they breached off my bow and playfully dove just beneath my kayak, their scar tissue illuminating in the clear, blue-green open sea. California sea lions, mostly yearlings, strained their elongated necks while closely trailing my stern.

Heckling me with slight swell after swell, they would torpedo beneath my rudderless kayak every time I snuck a glance back at them.

Given the water’s glassiness, it was easy to spot any disturbances in the channel, especially migrating gray whales. I heard the sound of air escaping their blowholes for several minutes before actually spotting them. They were suddenly 20 feet off my bow, gently rolling back and forth, wallowing and spouting on the surface. Two adults kept a calf between them, gently playing and nuzzling the youngster. For a brief moment, the broad tail of one of the barnacled adults slowly waved at me from beneath my kayak.

As West Point drew closer, the current pushed me toward the frontside of the largest island off the California coast where I joined several more Risso’s dolphins, my paddling

companions of the deep blue. They stayed just ahead of me as we rode the ocean’s generous flow, moving swiftly along the daunting, honeycombed volcanic cliffs of the west end of Santa Cruz Island. Despite how fast I paddled, however, I couldn’t keep pace with the scarred cetacea.

On my portside, White Face loomed on the distant horizon like a triangular beacon, my mountainous landmark on the Santa Ynez range drawing me homeward. Between Hazards and Cueva Valdez, I disembarked and quickly scaled 50 feet up a weather-beaten volcanic cliff and scanned across the channel with my binoculars, not trusting the most recent reports pouring repeatedly from the weather radio.

Channel 2 was calling for northwest winds at 10 to 15 mph, with gusts of up to 20 to 25 mph along the mainland and everything in between of the island. There was nary a whisper within the first 30 minutes of sunrise, however. The channel was a dead calm and there was no time to waste. I reluctantly turned my back on Santa Cruz and settled in for a long, arduous paddle across the Santa Barbara Channel.

For the first eight miles I kept a

steady pace, desperately wanting to clear the shipping lanes. As it turned out, I didn’t see a single container ship or any marine mammals the entire way save for one solitary sea lion bobbing like a cork. If it hadn’t been for the dense fog shrouding the island’s west end and the sounds of U2, Eddie Vedder and Coldplay filling my head across the lonely channel, the monotony of the paddle may have gotten the better of me.

Instead I was tuned in and grateful for the stellar paddling conditions from start to finish.

Before I knew it, a lonely oil platform stood tall on the distant horizon. From there it was only about 14 more miles before I’d reach the finish. White Face grew broader across the coastal range. Following through on each stroke as it drew closer, I could make out the many fissures zigzagging down that massive cliff face. A six- to eightfoot northwest swell drove me out of the channel and steered me just south of the Carpinteria Reef with its dense canopy of kelp swaying on the surface. Seven hours and 10 minutes flew by without a hitch before my stiff legs stood again on an all too familiar shoreline.

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North

Shaun Burns enjoying the view. Santa Cruz.

RATH

Loading up and continuing the trek north after a satisfying surf in unfamiliar waves.

It’s easy to find an international feel close to home. Monterey Hostel.

RATH

JASON RATH/ BROKENCLOCKMEDIA.COM

From left, Shawn Tracht, Shaun Burns, and Frankie Soares wide-eyed and ready to rock after a satisfying sleep at the Hostelling International: Monterey.

RATH

The Pigeon Point Lighthouse.

Shaun Burns finds a little private time in an already lonely Pacific.

By Shawn Tracht

Want

JEFF PFOST/ BROKENCLOCKMEDIA.COM

to get a dose of

Getting Our Feet Wet

At

the Monterey Hostel, located downtown just blocks away from the fickle, but occasionally great, white-sand beach breaks near John Steinbeck’s Cannery Row, the outdoor fire pit crackled of cedar wood, neatly adorning the small hostel parking lot surrounded by an array of international culture. The most notable character of the evening was a fiery Irish gal in her early 30’s whose deep accent left

PFOST

Another unridden hideout. Big Sur.

international travel within 100 miles of where you live, with good surf to boot? Leave the economy in the rearview mirror and maneuver around the roadblock congesting the inside of your bank accounts? Ditch the daily routine?

Well then, you’re way overdue for something like this.

A California hostel trip is the perfect opportunity to experience a world just beyond your chosen county for a mere $28 a night.

There are eight hostels along the coast of California, along with another eight in the state encompassing the Hostelling International (HI) group of hostels in California. In an effort to experience hostel life, we—Jeff Pfost, Jason Rath, Chad

Jackson, Frankie Soares, Shaun Burns and myself—drove 60 mph up Highway 1 in a four-door Toyota truck to three hostels north of Big Sur filled with the colorful sprinkles of the international community.

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Shawn Tracht finding a hideout. Monterey County.

PFOST

Chad Jackson taking a second to appreciate the beauty of his backyard.

RATH

RATH

RATH

San Luis Obispo County welcomes us back.

Shawn Tracht discovers a steep pocket along Highway 1.

her harder to understand than a mumbling Mississippian. Darleen’s idea of good ol’ fashioned campfire fun involved shooting off unintelligible Irish sarcasm at us—the only surfers at the hostel. She was the life of the party, providing a new sensibility and cultural shock treatment to our normal expectations of campfire comportment.

Inside, the 45 travelers shared everything. There were six bunks to a room separating the boys and girls, showers that took coins to run water, dorm bathrooms and free pancakes with fresh drip coffee served each morning. Moreover, what the Monterey Hostel lacked in ornate character, it definitely made up for in community atmosphere, with a common area known as the

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“Great Room.” At a long, cafeteriastyle breakfast table, we relaxed and shared stories with our new friends from Ireland, Germany and Korea that shed unrelenting laughter as we translated life through hand signals and the linguistic grunts of our native tongues.

Though a fallacy, we attempted to speak slower and louder in an effort to tactically overcome the barriers of translation by raising the volume of our voices.

A Little Bit of Korea in Surf City

In

Santa Cruz at the Carmelita Cottages (Santa Cruz Hostel), we were treated to a free Korean language lesson from South

Korean Jan Myeong. Landing two blocks away from the iconic Santa Cruz Boardwalk and the windy road that snakes along the coastline from the east to the west, we were set just a few minutes away from world-class surf.

Quiet grounds, misting rain and our warm, small, white cottage bunkhouse kept us comfortable at night, sharing stories of the world with Myeong. He was in his late 30’s, had recently split from his wife and endeavored to seek solace in the American West as a means of escaping his thoughts. Myeong was not a surfer—just a traveler who had recently moved to Los Angeles, or “Re-ley,” as he called it. He had a thick Korean accent and a vibrant stoke for life that showed through his infectious whisper-squeak laugh.

Meeting people like Myeong was why we set off on this trip in the first place. We welcomed heavy accents, random stories, odd nuances in the art of tooth brushing and mystifying daily habits of prayer and meditation.

The Santa Cruz Hostel was a quiet, more low-key shelter that had the benefit of being a quaint, cottage-style place much different than the others. It was very vacationesque. If you were to ever opt out of dorm living for a private room, the Carmelita Cottages would be a great getaway choice for family travelers on a budget. With roller coasters and a pirate ship miniature golf course just blocks away on the boardwalk, you could surf perfect reefs twice a day while winning the title of “World’s Best Dad” in between sessions.

SEQUENCE: PFOST RATH

Chad Jackson finds an empty overhead lip. Big Sur.

PFOST

Lengthening shadows along the Big Sur coastline.

Frankie Soares setting up on another perfect peak. Santa Cruz.

Double-Overhead

About

27

miles north of Santa Cruz, at one of the most picturesque hostel locales I’ve ever been to, we made our way to the Pigeon Point Lighthouse Hostel. Just minutes away from Waddell Creek and a couple other sharky reefs, the cold bite of Nor-Cal air held precedence as a double-overhead swell captured the attention of our new friend from France, “Shore-dann...” as he pronounced it, or as we later figured out through his smooth, suave, velvet accent, “Jordan.”

The Pigeon Point Hostel is set on a rugged headland lined with stickbuilt, one-story dorm quarters. The

lighthouse at the end of the point takes center stage. Chunky closeouts crashed violently to the right of the point and an unrefined rocky reef swung around to the left. Neither break was surfable while we were there.

During our stay, Jordan stuck to us like a deck pad on a newly shaped board, enamored with the plight of the traveling surfer. Most of our conversations were spent outside traversing the grounds, trying to make sense of our cultural stories through thunderous pounding waves and Jordan’s thick accent.

On this trip north of Surf City, misty fog banks hugged the hightide line. Mysticism and an alluring awe shot from Jordan’s gaze and pierced the dense air with an excite-

ment for life’s uncertainties that crept just ahead of his pace. He was lost, and he welcomed it. He was searching for answers leading him to a new realm of selfunderstanding in a world filled with unknowns. On the other hand, we found what we’d come for—an escape from the daily grind in an effort to fulfill a deeper understanding of an international flavor and, of course, some surf.

This is what is so incredible about staying in hostels throughout the U.S. They are filled with the eclectic world. In fact, there is probably a hostel near you, and you don’t even know it. San Luis Obispo and Santa Barbara both have great little hostels close to the surf, too!

Hostel Low Down: Monterey Hostel 778 Hawthorne Street, Monterey (831) 649-0375 www.montereyhostel.org Santa Cruz Hostel-Carmelita Cottages 321 Main Street, Santa Cruz (831) 423-8304 www.hi-santacruz.org Pigeon Point Hostel 210 Pigeon Point Road, Pescadero (650) 879-0633 www.norcalhostels.org/pigeon/directions Hostel Obispo 1617 Santa Rosa Street, San Luis Obispo (805) 544-4678 www.hostelobispo.com Santa Barbara Hostel 134 Chapala Street, Santa Barbara (805) 963-0154 www.sbhostel.com Santa Monica Hostel 1434 2nd Street, Santa Monica (310) 393-9913 www.hilosangeles.org

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Lines for days, Ventura.

PHOTO ESSAY

His Own Style 22

DEEP SURF MAGAZINE July /August 2011

Nick Presniakov LET’S HOPE Nick Presniakov’s mom wasn’t

too upset with her young son every time he stole her camera and used all the film in the house. Little did she know then that a life of photography was in store for him—I’m sure she understands now.

Presniakov, 31, has been a professional photographer for the last seven years. Beginning his career in the editorial and commercial scene, Presniakov took up surf photography once he moved to Santa Barbara from Marin County in 1998.

“I started surfing at the same time,” says Presniakov. “It was only natural to combine the two things I loved.”

Presniakov wasn’t just a rambunctious kid stealing his mom’s camera. He learned to develop his own film in high school and took photography classes every semester thereafter.

This early introduction has served him well.

Today he shoots a variety of subjects ranging from fashion, adventure, underwater portraiture and lifestyle; and his work has appeared in everything from Transworld Surf to The New York Times Online.

“Capturing photos of people in a critical moment of action like surfing can make a really dynamic photo,” continued Presniakov. “The complete opposite of shooting surf is probably shooting portraits. It’s a slower process and you are up close to your subject.

You can tell a lot about a person by looking at a well-taken portrait.”

-Chuck Graham

TO SEE MORE OF NICK PRESNIAKOV’S WORK GO TO W W W.NICKPRESNIAKOV.COM.

Beginning his career in the editorial and commercial scene, Presniakov took up surf photography once he moved to Santa Barbara from Marin County in 1998.

Connor Coffin, Ventura County.

Jack Johnson out in front of his house on the North Shore.

Kilian Garland silhouetted.

Keith Malloy.

Slow shutter evening curl.

Middle Peak, Steamer Lane.Â

North Shore, Oahu.

PHOTO ESSAY Nick Presniakov

Today he shoots a variety of subjects ranging from fashion, adventure, underwater portraiture and lifestyle; and his work has appeared in everything from Transworld Surf to The New York Times Online.

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C Street.

Rocky Point, North Shore.

Ratboy below sea level in Santa Barbara.

Kelly Slater, Rincon.

Dropping In On Nick Bobroff Bobroff paddling in the Catalina Classic race. August, 2009.

Power Stroke

by Chuck Graham

J

ust a few doors down from the DEEP office, Nick Bobroff is helping to keep Carpinteria the quiet seaside town that it’s been for decades, working as a city planner for the City of Carp. It’s been a full-time gig for several years now, but Bobroff, 30, makes the most of his days. Before and after work he busts out his 14-foot paddleboard and paddles distances most folks cant’t comprehend.

Since 2005, Bobroff has been racing with a throng of solid results under his belt. Currently taking a year off to recharge, he’ll soon be back in training for the sport he loves.

Nick Bobroff ’s spring workout along Miramar Beach.

DEEP: How did you get into the sport of paddleboarding?

Nick Bobroff: Like a lot of paddlers, I grew up racing the 10’6” sprint boards as a junior lifeguard and continued on with it working as a seasonal ocean lifeguard through high school and college. Being a swimmer and a surfer, I was always pretty good. There was also a longboard surf contest that I competed in each summer at Malibu. The same day as the contest there would be a 10-mile paddleboard race from Zuma Beach to Malibu Surfrider. I used to watch those guys come in and decided that when I was older I wanted to do that race and the Catalina Classic. Fast forward a few years to when I finally got a real job.

I used one of my first paychecks to buy a 17’6” unlimited paddleboard and started training and racing. I started distance paddling and racing in 2005.

DEEP: What’s the hardest race you competed in?

NB: The hardest race is definitely the Catalina Classic. It’s 32 miles from Two Harbors on Catalina Island to Manhattan Beach Pier. There are a lot of miles and hours spent on the water leading up to it, and the race itself is a big physical and mental challenge. On average, it takes me about six hours to finish. Last year had a crummy cross-chop most of the way and I developed some tendonitis in my left arm and shoulder about 10 or 12 miles into the race. It got to the point with about 10 miles left where I could no longer push up off the board to get to my knees to paddle. I had to grit my teeth through those last 10 miles to finish. Knowing how hard I trained for the race, it was hard to accept that I had to lower my expectations from a strong, hopeful, top-10 finish, to just being happy to finish.

DEEP: Best results?

NB: I’ve had a pretty good run of top three finishes the last couple of years, mostly in the 14’ division. Last year, I ended up the overall series champion for the California Downwind Series in the 14’ division.

My favorite wildlife encounter so far was from the Molokai to Oahu Paddleboard race last summer. Prior to the event, a buddy had told me I only needed to worry about tiger sharks near the start and finish of the race, and mid-channel, I should be fearing the “cookie cutter” sharks. He said they come out of the depths, grab a chunk of flesh, twist, and take off, leaving a nice cookie cutterlike wound. So, somewhere in the middle of the race I’m paddling along when I see a large 8’ gray silhouette directly underneath my board, basically shadowing me. I started to panic and yell and wave at my boat crew, trying to alert them to what I thought was a shark. They respond by waving and getting the camera ready—which was not quite the response I was looking for—when all of a sudden, the form underneath me shoots forward and leaps out of the water and surfs off my bow wake. It ended up being one of several dolphins that came up behind me and then surfed along with me for the next few minutes. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to discover it was a dolphin!

DEEP: Future plans?

NB: I’m sort of taking it easy this year, just doing a few of my favorite, mostly downwind races and otherwise treating this as a re-building year and a chance to let my shoulders rest and recover a bit. I plan to make a bigger competitive push next year and will hopefully do the Molokai to Oahu and Catalina Classic races again.

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PHOTOS LEFT TO RIGHT: JASON MACMURRAY, STEVE SHLENS

DEEP: Best wildlife encounter on a paddleboard?

NB: I’ve had the (mis)fortune of a lot of exciting wildlife encounters over the last few years. Everything from gray whales popping up literally right in front of me, to having flying fish leap over my head on a downwind run in Maui, to a couple of scary shark encounters in the summer of 2009.

Dropping In On Davey Miller

Painting, Playing and Paying It Forward

by Glenn Dubock

PHOTOS CLOCKWISE FROM TOP: BILL TOVER; DUBOCK.COM

T

hink about the most beautiful wave you have ever surfed or even dreamt about. Now, think about the fact that Davey Miller has ridden thousands of them, painted hundreds of them and will gladly take your vision of oceanic perfection and produce a custom work of art that you can treasure for the rest of your days on earth.

You will be in good company if you do commission Miller to paint your dreams. Legendary surfers like Kelly Slater, Tommy Curren and Mark Occhilupo all have his works on their walls. Industry giants like Yvon Chouinard, Bob McKnight and Paul Naude have seen the waves of the world through the eyes of Davey. But there is so much more to him that lies beneath the strokes of paint and stretched canvas.

Davey Miller was born in 1960 and raised on the beaches of Ventura.

Even in his early childhood he enjoyed producing art and playing music. “I was an artist and a musician before I was a surfer. But surfing became the sole focus of my life starting in 1969. I would ride waves imitating my surf heroes—guys like Gerry Lopez and Terry Fitzgerald.”

At the tender young age of 20, Miller stunned the surf world and earned a lot of respect for showing up on the North Shore of Oahu and taking on massive Sunset Beach in his first Hawaiian contest, grinding through the trials and taking out some fierce competition. Four-time world champ Mark Richards was quoted saying, “No one gets off the plane a rookie and surfs Sunset like that, no one.”

Miller had a good run in Hawaii, riding waves at Outside Pipeline and Waimea like very few could at the time. He was never a show off, never an ego freak; he just had the innate ability to read the waves and stuff himself into the most critical barrels the place could throw at him. Photographers and magazines were drawn to him, he was lean and hungry, always pushing his personal limits and stoking those around him.

“The locals liked the fact that I didn’t show up with a posse and a stack of boards. I would ride my bike down from the heights of Pupukea, grab a board I had stashed near the beach and always show respect for everyone.”

The fullness of time, his love of jazz, a family to raise and his exploding art career brought Miller back to his Ventura home grounds. These days, you can find Davey at his art gallery near the Ventura Harbor working away on his latest masterpiece with the sounds of cool jazz accompanying him.

As you enter the gallery, you can’t help but feel that you are visiting waves from your past because his paintings are so true to what a core surfer feels and often tries to express in words after a memorable surf session.

Even for those who have never ridden a wave, Miller’s art is so clean and vibrant that it takes you away to a world where all the waves are perfect and exclusively yours.

When he is not working on his art, Miller can be found playing with another passion, the fluid notes of jazz music. He plays the drums with some of the premier artists of the genre whenever his busy schedule allows. “There is a resurgence of jazz, and I’ve been listening since I was a teenager. The music in somebody’s head reflects in the way they surf— the way they do anything. Music is far more powerful than most people think it is.”

Above: Miller surfing C-Street in the early ‘80s.

Below: Miller holding one of his works of art.

Miller still has that childlike surf stoke and is a firm believer in promoting the arts in schools. He never takes credit for it but he has selflessly donated his time and talent to many local schools. With offspring of his own as inspiration, he gives signed prints to kids that show up at his gallery. They walk away staring at a world that Miller has created and wants to share with them. In his unique way, he is sharing a wave with them.

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Memory Of Trees: A Rainforest Coast

by Michael Kew “The people were here when the Pacific Northwest emerged from its icy womb and donned its forest raiment. Raven, Changer and Coyote, the demiurges of the mythtime, tamed its monsters, made it habitable for humankind.”

—David Buerge LIKE EVERYWHERE, the woods were once virgin. From

southern Alaska to northern California there lay vast tracks of temperate rainforest, huge conifers untouched since sprouting at the end of the last Ice Age. Later,

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humans arrived via the Bering land bridge and became the indigenous people of the northwest, settling and evolving into several cultures and societies, treading lightly and harmoniously in their rainy eden, living

PHOTOS: MICHAEL KEW

PHOTOS: JEREMY KORESKI

off and with the land and sea, the natural resources rich and widespread. And although the people warred amongst themselves, their pre-Columbian tribes and their forests flourished for 15,000 years.

Then came the 19th century and white men with big saws. Flat, open land surpassed trees in value, and the trees were simply large brown weeds that needed to be cleared. It wasn’t long before settlers realized the terrain was unsuitable for anything but trees, however, so instead of building homes and seeding farms on the clearcuts, they made more. Large-scale industrial logging eventually leveled nearly 100 percent of the forests that covered the evergreen coast.

Ending a rough dirt lane from a dirt spur road from an unsigned paved one, the trailhead to the wave at Gale Hollow was obscure and unmapped. Its trees were tall and ancient. Loggers hadn’t been there. But they were good people. I liked them. On the outside, particularly in the environmentalist sphere, they had a bad rap.

In a nearby town one evening, I’d gone to a bizarre suburban garage advertised as a pizza parlor. A stenciled

piece of cardboard in the window read We Support The Timber Industry—This Business Supported By Timber Dollars. Its cook was a fat, hot-blooded white man wearing a stained yellow T-shirt. He was dirty, bearded, and he smoked a cigarette. He stood behind the counter and spoke loudly to his burly friend who slouched with a can of Budweiser in a plastic lawn chair across the echoey room. It looked like a school cafeteria.

“I got into a fistfight last night,” the cook said. “I didn’t want to, though. Fuckin’ guy pissed me off. Guy was talkin’ all kinds of shit.”

“Must’ve been some fuckin’ cowboy fisherman,” the drinker said.

“I gave him two black eyes. He didn’t get up, either.

He just laid there, starin’ at the ceiling. His buddy split real quick.”

The cook inhaled from the cigarette and squinted at me sideways while blowing the smoke from the right corner of his mouth.

“Can I help you?”

“I’d like to order a pizza.”

Opposite: Northwest camping eliminates creature comforts and outdoor cooking, instead replaced by hot smoky campfires, tipsy postprandial walks, rain and rough slumber without good shelter. For Peter Devries, it is time best spent alone.

Above: Local Native American Art; Ancient Douglas fir forest.

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“Nice choice,” said Jeff, the middle-aged man next to me. He too had a stout. He wore a red flannel shirt with suspenders; a camouflage Stihl cap covered his shaggy brown hair. He was goateed, his hands were gnarled, and he looked every bit the clichéd image of a logger. He was there on a hunting trip, staying in the town’s motel, but when not vacationing he worked down south in a softwood lumber mill run by Weyerhaeuser, one of the world’s largest timber companies that owned millions of forested acres in 18 countries. Weyerhaeuser had clearcut much of the Pacific Northwest, replacing it with dense, spindly renewable stands of spruce and fir and cedar no more than a few decades old. They looked like toothpicks.

“Why do you work for Weyerhaeuser?” I asked Jeff.

“They have a lot of land, a lot of mills, usually lots of jobs to offer. They’re a big company, a good company. I worked at MacBlo before Weyerhaeuser bought ‘em out in ‘99. I worked in a log-sorting yard. Before that, I was cutting a lot of big trees down. Mostly cedars.”

In recent years Weyerhaeuser won several awards for its sustainable forestry management, safety, ethics, engineering, and apparently eco-friendly policies worldwide.

PHOTOS TOP LEFT TO RIGHT: MICHAEL KEW, MICHAEL KEW, CHRIS BURKARD

He pointed at me. “Hold that thought, man. I’m having a conversation here.”

I left and walked to the center of the town, population 1,800.

The air smelled of dirt and diesel. Drizzle dampened my clothes.

The clouds were low and cold. Besides a gas station, Al’s Saloon was the only place open, so I went inside and ordered peanuts and a beer—Alaskan Stout. The room was dim and smoky; a nicotine haze clung to the lights. The bartender was an elderly chain-smoking woman who didn’t look like a bartender, especially in such a dive. She looked like she should’ve been knitting a blanket.

The saloon’s rustic décor was classic, lodge-like: a ceiling of log beams, beer signs, and old saws hanging from the walls, vintage logging photos, taxidermied fish, and heads of elk and bear, a wood-burning fireplace, country music on the juke box. There was no TV or wireless Internet. The pool table was covered with a blue plaid blanket. The chairs were worn, the wood on the bar glass-smooth from years of human oils. Around the bar six men sat smoking cigarettes and drinking; as I took a first swig of my cool black brew, two of them got up to throw darts. Their Carhartt work clothes were filthy, smeared with mud and axle grease.

PHOTOS LEFT TO RIGHT: MICHAEL KEW, JEREMY KORESKI

“They take care of us,” Jeff said. “It’s not all bullshit public-relations propaganda. And they do take care of the forests as best they can. The forests grow back. It’s a science. Tree farming, just like Christmas tree farms, but bigger. Some people want logging to just die and go away, to never have another tree in the world cut down ever again, but they’re living in a fantasy.”

“Do you think the timber will eventually run out?”

“No. Jobs will go quicker than trees—that’s for sure. Already so many guys are out of work. Timber harvesting has really been reduced.”

“By how much?”

“I don’t know the exact percentage, but it has a lot to do with the bad housing market down in California.

The demand for wood is weak right now. Nobody’s building homes. Weyerhaeuser closed some mills, too.

Last year was real tough.”

For 2009 Weyerhaeuser reported a net loss of $545 million on sales from operations of $5.5 billion, a huge decline from 2008’s net loss of $1.2 billion on sales from operations of $8.1 billion. But in early 2010,

things seemed to improve: on April 29 Weyerhaeuser reported a net loss of $20 million for the first quarter of 2010, on sales of $1.4 billion. The same period in 2009 experienced a whopping net loss of $264 million on sales from operations of $1.3 billion.

“After many difficult quarters, we’re encouraged by the improvement in our performance,” Dan Fulton, Weyerhaeuser president and CEO, said in a press release I found online. “While the pace of the housing recovery remains uncertain, we’re moving in the right direction.”

Weyerhaeuser did not harvest old-growth trees in the United States, likely because there were so few left, almost all within park boundaries, forever shielded from chainsaws. But old-growth trees in Canada were fair game and extremely controversial, particularly the celebrated cedar groves of British Columbia.

“Should Weyerhaeuser cut those cedars?” I asked Jeff as he finished his beer.

“It’s not my decision.”

“Do you want them to?”

He lit a cigarette and stared down at the bar.

Opposite clockwise from left: Thunderous beauty of the thaw. / The muffled roar of surf quickens the hiker’s step, moments from that first view between trees. / A rare day of sun. Above from left: Crab pots. / Peter Devries, into the wild.

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A SWIM IN THE PARK

Story and Photos by David Pu’u

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O

ne of the great qualities of this country is the freedom to engage in whatever sort of adventure we choose. For those of us interested in water, we develop our skills, and if all goes well, we generally make it home at the end of the day from wherever we range.

But when something goes wrong, the U.S. government has made provisions for someone to be watching and waiting. Someone who will come find us no matter where we are, no matter how severe the ocean or air. That entity is the United States Coast Guard.

Their motto is Semper Paratus, meaning, “always ready.”

I found myself in a wary mindset as the Air Alaska jet lifted off an Arizona runway. Shawn Alladio and I watched the desert recede below us. Being the speed junkies that we are, we found ourselves smiling as we accelerated into the blue morning sky on the last leg of our flight to Portland, Oregon.

We were en route to Astoria and our ultimate destination, the USCG station at Tongue Point. Alladio sometimes invites me along as she engages in her job as head of K38 Rescue, an internation-

ally recognized ocean safety and training organization specializing in PWC (personal watercraft, a.k.a. jet ski) operations.

This week, Alladio was on assignment to work with the USCG STAN Team consisting of Five Advanced Rescue Swimmers who were building a course for the USCG on PWC operations, a new direction for the Coast Guard.

I was wary because I knew we would be working in the Colombia River foul area off Cape Disappointment, which is a series of open ocean sand bars. I had seen “The Guardian”—a film shot on location where we were headed—which documents the life and death of one of the best advanced rescue swimmers that ever lived. The Bar is an infamous and legendary training ground for the Coast Guard where weather conditions are challenging. Knowing the ocean, I was thinking about this as we made our way out.

After breakfast we rolled over to Tongue Point Station where the Advanced Helicopter Rescue School was located. Air and water temperatures were 49 degrees.

The sky was partly cloudy, broken by moments of light, intermittent rain. It was a surprisingly nice day

for Astoria in the winter.

K38 structures its courses in a basic, paramilitary manner. Day one takes place in the classroom. The following days bring forth training skills and tests that are layered on until completed, examining the limits of your newly acquired and existing skills. This would be interesting because all of these men—tenured officers and operatives—were highly skilled instructors.

The STAN Team consisted of Supervising Chief Ensign Beaudry and team members Scott Rady, Eric Bednorz, Matt High, Dustin Skarra and Blain Elkins. They were selected for this specifically due to their skills and personal aptitude.

That first day in the rescue swimmers’ classroom, I scoured the walls, which were covered with images and notes from the graduates of the school. I noticed a couple of similarities in a lot of the images: rescue swimmers wear an orange dry suit and they dislike sharks.

Many of the images had humorous references to great whites, which were known to ply the waters of the Bar. I get gallows humor. I also understand sharks. The good-natured humor of the attendees made this long day of study pass rapidly.

1 Scott Rady on the cable of the Jayhawk doing a cliff rescue drill. Cliff rescues are a regular occurrence on the North Coast as rising swell and sweeping tide frequently can “tree” beachgoers with little warning. 2 Scott Rady at the helm and Blaine Elkins on the rescue board during a victim recovery drill. 3 Scott Rady being winched back up into the Jayhawk as they went off to check out an EPIRB (emergency positioning-indicating radio beacon) signal. 4 Crew of the Jayhawk monitoring Scott Rady who is on the cable doing a recovery cliffside. 5 Cape Disappointment, Washington. 6 STAN instructor Blaine Elkins explaining some nuances post drill when leaving Cape Disappointment for the afternoon.

7 Alladio explaining rescue board and body pinning technique.

As the week proceeded, I watched the men acclimate to their two Seadoos. Each day involved briefing in class, drills and debriefing. By the end of day two, Skarra was endeavoring to do a deck running drill in his fins and full kit. Alladio let him. To his credit, the guy did it. The deck of a PWC is incredibly narrow and a little tricky to get used to until Alladio explained foot entrapment and injury to me afterwards.

K38 training is all about having adequate boat skills and developing an efficient goal-oriented mindset. When you pass a certification course you become a rescue boat operator. The degree to which you become skilled allows for safer and better flow in whatever activity you will utilize a PWC in.

In spite of the high degree of other training, these five were basically starting from scratch. They were impressive. At dinner that night we all began sharing experiences. Teams are like that. You want to know how everyone ticks.

Day three culminated in beach launch and surf operations on a remote sandbar south of the jetty.

Once again, I watched each person do pretty much as they were told (not so easy to do) as the day went on smoothly.

Then day four dawned. We launched from the docks of Ilwaco

on the Washington side of the river adjacent to the MLB station, which houses the famed Rescue 47’s the USCG favors. After some pick-up drills and practices, an RHIB arrived to tend us. The Seadoos and inflatable headed out onto the Bar. Current on the tide change was approximately eight knots. The buoy we passed on the way out was nearly diagonal to the water at times from the pressure of the flush, with the occasional eightfoot-plus wave breaking outside of us. Since we had only two PWC’s, we ran three people per boat and worked the drift, motoring backup current and staying in the foul area as best we could.

Alladio was role-playing as the victim, the sixth “man” in 49-degree water with 20-knot offshore winds and breaking seas. I was warm in an overcoat, although I think I did have my fins and a wetsuit stashed somewhere. I would simply grab a handhold (and a towel) and pay attention, keeping my camera and myself as dry as possible.

As our drill time on the Bar ended, we beat our way up current into a vicious wind, back to the docks and drilled till sundown. Today was the official last day for the guys.

It was pretty late by the time we finished debriefing and cleaning the boats back at Tongue Point. Regardless, it had been a good day.

Day five dawned grey and stormy. The STAN Team had a treat for us. Back to Ilwaco we went, observing cliff rescue drills with Bednorz and Rady in the Jayhawk. High, Skarra and a female operator were on the cliff with Alladio and me and a rescue dummy.

Below us, Peacock Spit was a mass of 10-12 foot seas breaking everywhere in an impressive roar. It was the North Coast in all its splendor as the storm rolled through. We had climbed down the cliff and nestled into a vantage point some 25 yards away from where the rescue dummy was perched.

Unfortunately, we only got to do one pass with Rady on the cable as the Jayhawk was called away by an EPIRB signal they had to investigate. Getting to see what the USCG can do up close was a gift from the team to Alladio and me.

This seemed to be quite an adventure. But then again, when the team motto is Semper Paratus, well, you have a guardian. Oh, and for the record, the guys liked that film “The Guardian.” (I asked.)

They said it was pretty accurate.

The rescue swimmer dies in it, sacrificing himself for his team.

It’s like that. You earn your life and sometimes maybe even your death. It’s why they train.

8 Afternoon of day two. A break for performance critique during a long day of drills. 9 Alladio and the STAN team during day three. Surf drills. 10 Day one. The rescue swimmer classroom with the STAN team and Shawn Alladio. 11 Advanced Rescue Swimmer patch. 12 A Jayhawk prepares to drop a boarding party aboard for an inspection.

Ladies Room COLUMN by

DAVID PU’U

Nicole de Leon South swells and warm Santa Ana Winds are her favorite, although her damp 4/3 and booties are not. Whether it’s instructing yoga, teaching art, teaching surfing or writing, Nicole De Leon finds herself in the ocean almost daily.

PHOTOS FROM LEFT: DUBOCK.COM; WALDEN SURFBOARDS

Leslie Broude’s Endless Youthful Spirit BEING A SURFER often becomes a channel for our creative energy, putting us in a state of “flow” that can be hard to find during the rest of our daily lives. Many researchers have studied this state of flow and have defined it as “joy, creativity and the process of total involvement in life.” It's no wonder we are drawn almost blindly to it over and over again, but what happens if you are not paid to be a surfer? Certainly there is a way to stir up this same sense of flow during our working lives as well. After meeting with Leslie Broude, batik fabric designer for Walden Surfboards, owner of Keeper of the Rainbow and designer at Love Tanjine, it became immediately clear that she has indeed, found her flow.

At 63 years old, this energetic longboarder has found a way to saturate her days with creativity both inside and out of the water. She has been running her business, Keeper of the Rainbow, for the past 34 years where she designs, produces and ships surf-inspired batik clothing to places around the U.S. and almost all of the Hawaiian Islands.

Calling herself “seriously self-employed,” she admits that people sometimes think that working as an artist is an easy gig. She quickly dispels this myth, however, by explaining the process it takes to actually create her clothing and board designs. “Batiking” is much more complicated than tie-dyeing. Her rigorous process includes, but is not limited to: mixing her own dyes, adding a solution of salt and soda ash, designing and cutting her own stencils, using wax resist, stitching, tying and crumpling fabrics to get the most inimitable designs around.

After viewing her new, large-scale batik designs on Walden longboards, it is clear to me that the enticing results are worth the labor. To top off her busy life, Leslie also works for Love Tanjine clothing, where celebrity clientele seem to flock; yet she remains humble and diligent in her work.

Quickly I could tell Leslie’s personal and surfing styles are quite distinctive as well. It is as if she directly embodies the swirls and free flowing designs she creates. Her long hair swings around in a playful ponytail as she tells me of her yearly surf adventures to Mexico, one of which included getting blind-sided by a bus, breaking her foot and rolling around in the back of an ambulance while motorists ignored all attempts made by the blaring sirens. “I came back with a red cast,” she laughed.

“That’s okay, we scored such good waves down there with good friends that I didn’t let it discourage me from going back.” When asked to sum herself up in three words, she quickly responded with a laugh, “crazy-oldwoman.” Evidently—taking light of herself is just another one of her many talents.

It seems that Leslie’s positive and youthful attitude have strengthened her vitality, as she manages to surf for an hour or two on an almost daily basis.

Arriving fresh for our interview from the frigid spring water of a flat Ventura day only confirmed her dedication to the sport, yet surfing has not been a lifelong endeavor for Leslie. “My parents made me quit surfing when I was 16 because of serious localism where I was living. I didn’t get back into it until later

in life, and when I did, it grabbed hold of me with its tentacles once again.”

Her current repertoire includes a 10” epoxy Walden, a 9’4” Richard Cudworth tri-fin and a wide variety of other longboards boasting her personal stenciled and airbrush designs. Filling the universe with more creativity both on the board or off is enough to keep this multitalented and slightly mischievous artist traveling and producing beautiful art for years to come.

Clockwise from left: The artist setting her line. / Broude with her work. / A quiver of her artwork.

W W W.DEEPZINE.COM

35

Surf Shop Downlow & Outrigger Canoe Club Board Trachting

Esteem Surf Shop Story and Photo by Shawn Tracht

THE VENTURA OUTRIGGER CANOE CLUB

Paddling at the Speed of Fun Story and Photo by Glenn Dubock

N The Esteem crew.

THE MISSION statement for

BR ANDS CARRIED:

RVCA, Fox, Rhythm Pismo Beach’s homegrown surf West Wetsuits, Body shop Esteem is, “Here for Good.”

Glove, OAM, Toes on It’s a statement with multiple the Nose, First Light meanings revolving around two Ezekiel, Roberts Surfboards, Super things: surfing and goodness.

Surfboards Owner Robbie Dominguez was born and raised in Pismo Beach where he was “brought up” in local surf shops. This is what inspired him to dream of one day owning his own place where he could give back to the kids the way PJ Wahl had done for him.

“I grew up in PJ’s shop, and PJ provided that little bit of positive energy for me. That energy was instilled in me during a time when the surf scene around here was so hardcore that you couldn’t paddle out at the pier without getting heckled by the older locals with the occasional beat down,” said Dominguez. “ When I opened up my shop in 2002, my main goal was to provide a shop based around total goodness for the community and the local groms. Our shop is a place that basically raises young groms during their teenage years and builds life-long relationships with members of the community.”

Dominguez has the ultimate teaching job. He gets the best of both worlds by teaching kids on a life level while also being immersed in surf all day long. “Some people say not to make your hobby a job. That’s not the case for me. My roots are in surf and always have been. Surfing is where my friends are, it’s part of my family and it’s the place where I can give back to my community. Surfing is my lifeline and has helped me to enjoy life by spreading the goodness that it has to offer.

Surfing has made my life better, and that’s something that I pass on to the kids,” said Dominguez.

Esteem Surf Shop 590 Cypress Street, Pismo Beach (805) 773-2144 www.EsteemSurf.com Open Daily, 10 a.m. – 6 p.m.

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DEEP SURF MAGAZINE July /August 2011

estled in a corner of Ventura Harbor reserved for pelicans and paddlers is the “Halau” (clubhouse) of the Ventura Outrigger Canoe Club.

I drive to the very end of Spinnaker Drive, past the Channel Islands National Park headquarters, and before even sighting them, I can hear the warm-hearted laughter and banter that can only come from a group of people that have that feeling of Ohana— an ancient Hawaiian term that translates to the notion of family in our language.

Heading out for a morning workout.

Within minutes, the group gathered for a Sunday morning recreational paddle has already made me feel like I have known them for all my life. Indeed, these people are in it for all the right reasons. Fun, more fun, and a commitment to the Spirit of Aloha associated with gliding across the water under human power alone.

George Moore, the past president and membership chair of the club, greets me with a broad smile and a firm handshake. As he introduces me to the other members assembled on this stellar morning, I began to notice something about each one of them. First and foremost, they are all in it for the fun factor, but secondly, they are all in great physical shape. “We don’t charge for your first paddle,” says George, “because we are pretty sure you will be back for more. The first and third Sundays of the month are set aside for newcomers to the club or first time paddlers.

Most people that give it a good try are soon in it for the long run.”

Two canoes are going out the morning I am visiting the club. The group works together to carefully place the elongated wooden crafts at the edge of the water. Commands are shouted as the bow of the canoe is gently lifted in a safe manner so that the sand wheels can be pulled out from beneath the heavy hull. There is a certain protocol and a wealth of respect that is

shown to each canoe. They began their oceangoing service with a blessing from both Hawaiian and Chumash elders. Each time they are slid into the sea, it is like a homecoming, for as beautiful as these slender boats look on land, they look their best with a happy crew guiding them through the mother ocean.

The club does much more than move boats across the local waters. They are very involved with community outreach in an effort to share “Akahi” (kindness) with those who may not have the opportunities to get out on the healing waters. Moore has a personal connection to this part of the program because he has a son with special needs. “We had a custom seat made so that anyone with physical limitations could have a safe spot in the canoe where they can feel the sea breeze in their hair as we propel them through an environment they might otherwise not experience.”

As I scramble out onto the rocks of the jetty to get some action photos of the canoes slipping through the sheen of the morning’s glass-smooth water, I can hear the hissing of the hulls as they pierce the surface. I can also hear the rhythmic chants of the crewmember charged with keeping the paddlers in synch. Not a drop of water out of place and a nice smile on every face. This “family” is having a lot of fun and they are “Ho’opili i ke kai,” joined together by the sea.

To participate in all this fun and fitness, you can contact George Moore at (805) 340-1260 or call head coach Gary Lee at (805) 653-5854. To get an overall view of the club in action, just go to their website at www.Venturaoutrigger.com.

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37

Music & Entertainment

Mumford and Sons Flash Like a Comet

Robert Plant Comes Full Circle

Story and photo by L. Paul Mann

Story and photo by L. Paul Mann HOWLING Santa Ana gusts like the

Mumford and Sons consists of Marcus Mumford, Ben Lovett, “Country” Winston Marshall and Ted Dwane.

FANS TURNED UP en masse early for the highly anticipated sold out

Mumford and Sons show on Monday, April 18, at the Santa Barbara Bowl. The band, which came out of what the English music media has labeled “the new West London folk scene,” has been on a meteoric fast track to success since forming in late 2007. Lead singer Marcus Mumford disputes the label of the folk scene and the lumping of his band with other groups who sprang up in London about the same time.

Mumford and Sons really is a mixture of influences ranging from American blue grass, to traditional folk sounds from the British Isles and modern rock. What sets their electrifying style apart from that of countless other musicians, however, is their incredible penchant for producing glorious harmonies. The band really has more in common with harmonic rock legends like Crosby, Stills and Nash or Canada’s Bare Naked Ladies. However you choose to label the music, the sound has captured the imagination of numerous fans worldwide and catapulted the band on a whirlwind rise to success.

Unwritten Law:

Interview with Scott Russo

by L. Paul Mann

S

eminal Southern California surf punk band Unwritten Law is back, headlining this summer’s Vans Warped Tour. For 20 years, this San Diego group has produced an ever-evolving soundtrack for the surf/skate laidback beach lifestyle in coastal towns around the world. The band has released seven fulllength recordings, including their newest album, “Swan,” and toured the world relentlessly over the past two decades. Lead singer Scott Russo took a break from his busy schedule to share the latest news about the band with DEEP Surf Magazine.

DEEP: Unwritten Law began at a pivotal time for music in San Diego County in the early ’90s.

An onslaught of energetic new bands (Blink-182, Sprung Monkey, and Buck-O-Nine) seemed to fit the beach and skate lifestyle of young listeners like.

Can you talk about your roots in this environment?

Scott Russo: I’m born and raised in San Diego.

winds of Thor rushed down from the mountain passes through the Santa Barbara Bowl amphitheater, providing a fitting setting for a concert by mythical rock singer Robert Plant on April 25.

As twilight fell, anticipation in the stoic crowd began to grow. They were patiently waiting for their hero, Robert Anthony Plant, to emerge onstage. No doubt many in the crowd were old enough to have seen him perform in the heyday of his legacy as a singer. For many of those who witnessed one of the legendary Led Zeppelin gigs in the ‘70s, there simply has never been a better live rock show.

The group, made up of musicians from his album, opened with Zeppelin classic “Black Dog” setting the stage for the band’s performance. Plant appeared relaxed in a demure democratic role, slipping from the front-man rock star roll occasionally to the back of the

I grew up skateboarding and surfing. I rode for H-Street, Gullwing and Airwalk back in the day.

After H-Street fell apart, I rode for Zorlac for a bit until my music took precedence. I really never wanted to be in a band, I just wanted to skate, that was it. Music found me. I grew up surfing as well, but skating was my first love. I guess if you lived by a mountain, you would ski, snowboard or hike. I grew up by the beach.

DEEP: You were an integral part of the Vans Warped Tour early on and this year you are back.

Can you explain your special connection with this annual event that exposes many young music fans to a treasure trove of new music?

SR: We were lucky enough to be invited to some of the very first Warped Tours. In those days that kind of festival had never been done—straight punk rock and a lot of it. It’s amazing what Warped has done for the music community in general. Now it brings all life forms of the musical youth movement. It’s still revolutionary, and it’s an honor to be asked back, especially since we were banned for inciting a riot in Sydney, Australia, and punching out one of the stage managers. Needless to say, we were asked to leave the tour within seconds of that show. Through

Robert Plant with Grammywinning singer Patty Griffin.

stage to play harmonica or sing backup vocals. He cheerfully bantered with the crowd; sometimes inanely in poetic gibberish or in astute observations about his surreal surroundings. It was his role as wailing front man on Led Zeppelin classics like “Ramble On” and “Gallows Pole” that glued the crowd to the stage, mesmerized by his persona as the ultimate rock legend from the ultimate rock band of all time. Sadly, the songs didn’t remain the same, but the new versions are fascinating in their own strange way.

the years we have mended our relationship as we have all grown as people, but “let it be,” you know? Warped was very instrumental in making Unwritten Law and many other acts what they are today. It will be dope to get back to it.

DEEP: You just released your sixth studio album, “Swan.” Can you talk about your new recording and how your music has evolved over the years from the early skater punk sound to a more complex and intricate rock sound?

SR: With anything you do in life, time and practice helps perfect your craft. We grew up on punk rock. That was our influence when we started writing music. Over the years we have been exposed and turned on to so many new bands and music that it is obviously going to show in our song writing. It is what it is and we are just this much farther down the road in our craft.

DEEP: What can fans expect to hear on this summer’s Warped Tour? New material? Old favorites? Surprises?

SR: (Haha) D) All of the above.

For the Vans Warped tour schedule visit www.vanswarpedtour.com.

Entertainment

Wine, Waves, and Beyond

by Dan Hamlin

PHOTOS TOP LEFT TO RIGHT: DAN HAMLIN, JENNIFER SIRCHUK

T

he second annual “Wine, Waves, and Beyond” event kicked off June 2 at the historic Fremont Theatre in downtown San Luis Obispo, premiering the movie “Last Paradise” to a packed house. “Wine, Waves, and Beyond” is a unique fourday event that brings the Central Coast’s wine community together with the surf community for a weekend of festivities that include local beer and wine tasting, a dinner by some of the Central Coast’s top chefs, live music, an art and fashion show, a VW car show, and a longboard contest at the Pismo Pier.

The longboard contest took place on June 5 in some stellar surf for a dreary June day in Pismo Beach. Despite the overcast skies, the pier served up shoulder high

waves with some nice long walls for the competitors to perform on.

But unlike a lot of contests, this one was a laid-back affair. Everyone seemed to have a smile on their faces, and the camaraderie amongst the surfers was evident.

In fact, at each event throughout the four days there seemed to be a lot of smiles and high-fives exchanged by those in attendance.

Perhaps this was because everyone knew they were supporting a truly worthwhile cause.

What makes the four-day event so special is that all the proceeds go to the Association of Amputee Surfers. AmpSurf is a nonprofit organization that seeks to help rehabilitate and inspire those with disabilities, particularly war veterans, through adaptive surfing.

The goal is to help people focus

Though definitely not Malibu, the Pismo Pier did offer a few fun corners for the competitors to enjoy.

on their abilities, not their disabilities. To learn more about this incredible organization or to get involved visit ampsurf.org All-in-all, the second annual “Wine, Waves, and Beyond” event was fun and helped all who attended appreciate life here on the Central Coast a little more.

A classic surf buggie.

“Last Paradise” premiered at the Fremont Theatre.

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GROMBOMB HEALTHY REHYDRATION A HEALTHY ENERGY DRINK ALTERNATIVE After an epic session of surfing, I always rush to my car and fill my mouth up with food and water to try to get energy to go back out. I always felt horrible that second session until I tried Grombomb Healthy Rehydration. Not only does this drink rehydrate you and give you the natural drive to go harder, but it tastes very satisfying. I highly recommend Grombomb to all athletes looking for a tasty rehydration drink during contests or competitions. It really does work!

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Take a big gulp.

The fracking process.

Frickin’ Fracking HYDRAULIC FRACTURING, or

fracking as it is called, is a process in which oil and natural gas are collected by fracturing natural rock formations with hydraulic pressure to release otherwise unreachable energy resources. A wellbore is drilled and filled with the fracturing fluid— often a combination of water, sand and chemicals. With the pressure of the fracturing fluid weighing down on the rock formations, the rock begins to crack and natural gas leaks up toward the surface.

The method, developed by Halliburton, is becoming an increasingly popular means of extraction due to its ability to maximize the output of any single well. The process is now employed at thousands of wells throughout the United States and overseas. It has recently come to light that the practice is additionally being used in Santa Barbara County by Venoco Inc., the Denver-based company with a regional office in Carpinteria.

Despite a 2004 study by the Environmental Protection Agency deeming the practice safe, recent events ranging from oil spills and accidents to water pollution and health concerns have called the

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DEEP SURF MAGAZINE July /August 2011

safety and risks of fracking into question. An Oscar-nominated documentary released in 2010 entitled “Gasland” asserts that fracking is to blame for groundwater pollution in Colorado, Pennsylvania and Wyoming. The most incendiary scene of the film shows a man lighting his tap water on fire. It is viewable on YouTube.

One of the major problems with fracking is that we just don’t know what chemicals are being pumped at high pressure into the ground. The chemical cocktails used to fracture and create fissures throughout the rock formations are lists of heavily guarded, “trade secret” ingredients often falling under proprietary protections. Of the 600 chemicals assumed to be used in fracking, diesel fuel and the carcinogen benzene are two of the most dangerous.

The drilling is deep, upwards of 10,000 feet into the Earth, often on a course that leads these dangerous chemicals directly into the path of aquifers. Given that the rock formations separating the aquifers from the natural gas are being destroyed, there is no longer a natural barrier between the two. Another of the major concerns about the

fracking process is that natural gas is seeping into these underground water supplies and rising to the surface with the groundwater. In addition to spills and the potential for other drilling accidents causing leaks and contamination, there is worry about the proper disposal of the toxic byproducts of fracking.

The 2005 Energy Act Policy was written largely by then-Vice President and former CEO of Halliburton Dick Cheney and signed into effect by then-President George W. Bush.

Tax incentives and loan guarantees for oil and gas companies with various types of energy production is an exemption to the Safe Drinking Water Act, essentially giving companies a loophole through which they can pump whatever they would like into the ground without having to tell anyone about it.

Without federal laws in place to regulate fracking, states are beginning to write their own. Texas is poised to become the first state with a fracking law. In May, the House of Representatives voted in favor of a bill that would require companies to disclose the chemicals used in the process. At the time this story went to press, it was still be awaiting the

Senate’s vote. The law, however, would keep chemicals confidential if they are deemed trade secrets. A similar bill introduced in California by State Assemblyman Bob Wieckowski (D-Fremont) would require full disclosure regardless of trade secrets or proprietary information.

The EPA is in the process of conducting another study regarding fracking. Its 2004 report only studied the process of fracking in coal bed methane deposits and was not a general study on the process of hydraulic fracturing. The study did not include research on the use of fracking in shale formations like the Monterey Shale formation being drilled by Venoco. Nor did it take into account possible aboveground impacts. Research on the new study is scheduled for completion in 2012 with the report to be released in 2014.

With studies still being conducted and contraadictory arguments being made on both sides, the issue of fracking is something we should all be aware of. Reports of contamination are being investigated throughout the U.S. as well as in Australia. Now that fracking is hitting home in our own backyard, it is becoming a local issue as well.

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Final Frames

Pg 44 Final Frame I

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Final Frames

Pg 46 Final Frame II

in Central Cal.

PHOTO: CHRIS BURKARD

Eric Soderqu ist doesn’t have to travel far to get perfect surf. Tube time

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DEEP SURF MAGAZINE July /August 2011

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