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unbreakable: the shane dorian profile 30

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Kiron Jabour Photo: Baeseman

V7#3 •

Free in Hawai‘i

FREESURFMAGAZINE.COM

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More than just a pretty face the many sides of pipeline 38

Shapeshift

Boardshort

for the latest CHIPPASODES featuring Chippa Wilson log on to:

analogclothing.com

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Baeseman

Free parking

F R E E S U R F M AG A ZIN E.CO M

Anthony Walsh, conducting a miracle.

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Contents V7#3 March 2010

Unbreakable After nearly two decades as one of the most talented and fearless surfers alive, Shane Dorian’s best moments may still be to come. Page 30.

For Your Viewing Pleasure

Stop what you’re doing, take a deep breath and dive headfirst into the most jaw-dropping photos of the season. Page 38.

Landon McNamara, post Pipe flogging.

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Latronic

Get Lost Sometimes, we need to get lost to find ourselves. Beau Flemister investigates surfing’s love affair with falling off the map on page 52.

D A N N Y TH E

BA LA NC E RVCA.COM

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F U L L E R OF

OPPOS ITES

RVCAANPQ.COM

INFO@ RVCA.COM

Photo: Heff

Contents V7#3 March 2010

12 Free Parking: Anthony Walsh greets Pipeline with arms wide open 18 Masthead: We make magazines 20 Editor’s Note: Jeff Mull, the mover 22 Howzit: Capturing bits of debauchery the world over 24 Inside Sections: The death of the backyard board // Alana Blanchard’s not a quitter // Torrey Meister needs help with his addiction // Punk is dead

60 News and Events: Team Hawai‘i wages war on the surf world 70 Free Plugs: Parko’s book and maybe hitchhiking aint so cool 72 Pau Hana: Roasting chicks with Jairus Cannon 74 Last Look: The curtain call

LIVE.LIKE.THIS>>MIKALA JONES>>shaper/G LENN PANG:get.yr.nxt.MAGIC BOARD.at>TCSURF .COM

A product of Manulele, Inc. Volume 7 • Number 3 Publisher Mike Latronic

Editorial Editor Jeff Mull Photo Editor Tony Heff Art Director Richard Hutter

with EcoUsable

®

The official bottle of the VANS® Triple Crown of Surfing

Free Thinkers Beau Flemister, Drewtoonz, Jack Kittinger, Siri Masterson, Noa Myers, Manny Pangilinan, Tom Stone

Staff Photographers Eric Baeseman, Bernie Baker, Brandon Ells, Tony Heff, Mike Latronic, Tyler Rock

Contributing Photographers Nathan Adams, Eric Aeder, Kirk Lee Aeder, Jamie Ballenger, Brian Bielmann, John Bilderback, Holt Blanchard, Tom Carey, Vince Cavataio, Mike Coots, Hilton Dawe, Patrick Devault, Damea Dorsey, Willi Edwards, Brandon Ells, Beau Flemister, Isaac Frazer, Pete Frieden, Kirby Fukunaga, Ryan Gamma, Chris Hagan, John Helper, Rick Hurst, Buzzy Kerbox, Kin Kimoto, Ric Larsen, Bruno Lemos, Mana, Mike McGinnis, Ikaika Michaels, Justin Morizono, Allen Mozo, Dave Nelson, Carol Oliva, Manny Pangilinan, Christian Peralta, Pake Solomon, Epes Sargent, Bobby Schutz, Vince Street, Spencer Suitt, Bill Taylor, Paul Teruya, Jimmy Wilson

Sales Director of Sales and Marketing Sean Wingate Advertising Executive Shaun Lopez Advertising Executive Chris Latronic Business Coordinator Cora Sanchez Executive Assistant Siri Masterson

Advertising Inquiries Sean Wingate swingate@freesurfmagazine.com 808-429-8460 FREESURF MAGAZINE is distributed at all Jamba Juice locations, most fine surf shops and select specialty stores throughout Hawai‘i. You can also pick up FREESURFon the mainland at Barnes & Noble and Borders bookstores and select newsstands. Ask for it by name at your local surf shop!

Subscribe at freesurfmagazine.com Other than “Free Postage” letters, we do not accept unsolicited editorial submissions without first establishing contact with the editor. FreeSurf, Manulele Inc. and its associates is not responsible for lost, stolen or damaged submissions or their return.

One-way correspondence can be sent to P.O. Box 1161, Hale‘iwa, HI 96712 E-mail editorial inquiries to info@freesurfmagazine.com Catch Billabong Surf TV Mondays at 1:30pm, Tuesdays at 2pm and 7:30pm, Wednesdays at 1:30am, Thursdays at 4:30am and 4:30pm, Fridays at 12:30pm and Saturdays at 3:30am and 9am and Sundays at 7:30am.

And don’t forget Board Stories on Mondays at 2pm, Tuesdays at 5pm and 8:30pm, Wednesdays at 2:30am and 9:30am, Thursdays at 5:30am and 5:30pm and Saturdays at 2:30am and 7:30am and Sundays at 9:30am and 4pm.

PROUD PARTNERS OF THE PLASTIC FREE HAWAII COALITION

lured by a scent

Expires June 31, 2010

Expires June 31, 2010

When I was in college, I moved furniture for a living. Couches, chairs, loveseats, tables, the occasional chaise lounge—I lifted them all without an inch of grace and with the backbreaking form a budding paraplegic. Day in and day out in the blazing Kakaako sun, I slogged, pushed, heaved, pulled and grunted. I ate cold cut combos at Subway, spat when I spoke and cursed the foulest string of painfully offensive words you’ve ever heard.

At first, it sounded like a manly job, one that might sprout me some chest hair and keep up my street cred, but a week in and an array of body aches later, I was beginning to question my new profession.

A few months later and a pair of the most beautifully calloused hands you’ve ever seen, I was singing a different tune. The profanity endured, the chest hair sprouted, the street cred rose, the furniture moved. I had become a heavy-lifting virtuoso of sorts.

Sometime in late spring, halfway through unloading a container of teak bedposts fresh from Bali, the thought hit me. It began with a scent, really, one that I had been unwittingly huffing since I began this job. It was the smell of Bali and, like remoras to a shark, it lingered on everything it touched—a serene mix of smoke and spice that you can’t find anywhere in the West. The foreign, exotic scent had pulled me in. Bali beckoned. A month later I quit the job, called my best friend to get him onboard and booked a ticket to Indo. It was by no means my first surf trip, but after the past six months of hauling coffee tables and consoles, I needed to cleanse myself of the filth that had been accumulating on my body.

When we landed in Denpasar, we headed to Kuta where we wiped the jet lag from our swollen eyes, pounded a half dozen Bintangs and soaked in the exhaust from the bemos. But a night in Kuta was more than enough for us. We wanted to wrap our bodies around the Indian Ocean kegs we’d been talking about since we were 12. When we rolled up to Uluwatu late the next day, the Balinese wave that gave birth to our Indonesian obsession, the sun was already beginning to tuck itself behind the horizon. Out to sea, a hundred yards of bone-dry reef ended with 1-foot waves lapping themselves on the shelf. F—k it. We didn’t come all this way to Bali; I didn’t move all that damn furniture not to surf. We didn’t care that it was flat, low tide and most likely going to cut us to shreds. We went for it and walked our way across the razors, cussing the entire way out as our feet were shredded to bloody nubs. We were alone.

But we were in Bali and we were sitting at Ulus, happy as clams.

And then it came.

A two-wave set, one for me and one for my buddy, stretched itself down the picture-perfect reef. We went…and then we tragically went over. The first thing to hit the reef was my foot, then my back and then my shoulder. As I washed up on the shelf, looking something like Tom Hanks in Castaway, I peered back and saw my friend in the exact same predicament. Torn, bleeding from every limb, laughing. We’d arrived and kooked it on our first session. It was wonderful. We were here.

The surf for the remainder of our Indonesian excursion never dropped below 6 feet and kept us slotted more than we could have ever dreamed. We slept in our trunks, limed our cuts and ate street food. It was hands down the best surf trip of my life. We were lost, we didn’t know anything and didn’t really care to. And that’s when we found ourselves. That’s surfing. Getting lost. And just think, I can credit it all to a few months of backbreaking work. God bless manual labor and the children she sometimes unknowingly bears. God bless travel.

For more on falling off the map, turn to page 52.

Justin Riddleberger

EDITOR'S NOTE

The whitest boards are made with Aerialite.速 Aerialite is a family of strong, lightweight fiberglass fabrics from BGF Industries. With its proprietary finish, it provides a smooth, brilliant white surface making Aerialite the glass of choice for master shapers and surfers alike. To learn more, or for your nearest distributor, visit Aerialite.com or email info@aerialite.com.

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The only thing worse than the SUP craze, boat surfing.

The best seats in the house.

It's good to be Bruce Irons.

Grom Stew.

Koa Smith and Kain Daly.

Aamion Goodwin, carrying a fallen soldier home.

The King would be proud.

This guy might save your life one day.

All the approval we need.

Working hard or hardly working?

Turn to page 75...

Kai Borg, shaking things up.

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HAWA I I S U R F I N G AS S O C I AT I O N

inside sections

Where Do Surfboards

Really Come From?

By the time the world moved into the 21st century, we were faced with a situation unparalleled in human history. Globalization. Oceans, rivers, and tracts of land were no longer an issue thanks to advances in technology. Everything from textiles to food to surfboards had their roots traced across the globe. After scouring a few shaping bays and talking with glassers and shapers, we attempted to answer one of surfing’s most dying questions: Where does your surfboard really come from?

(Here’s a hint: everywhere.)

California

Japan

Power Planer

O‘ahu

Foam Fiberglass Respirator Sanding blocks

Taiwan

Spoke plane Sandpaper

China

Resin Chicago, IL

Sheers Squeegees Masonite Templates

Florida

Japan

California

China

*The sample and tools taken for this infographic came from a variety of sources and may very depending on shaper.

Punk is dead…again. At least in surf videos // Brazil will be a surfing powerhouse in less than a decade // The right wax makes all the difference

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Surfboard by Tempest

Your board widdled down by region

Heff

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She'll Be Back At the tail end of her rookie year on the World Tour, Kauai’s Alana Blanchard put on the display of surfing that we all knew she was capable of, winning the Vans Hawaiian Pro at Hale‘iwa and making the finals at the Gidget Pro at Sunset. But despite the joy of glory, she still managed to endure the sting of defeat as her stellar late-season showings remained cloaked by a slew of 33rds. She wouldn’t requalify for the World Tour. We sat down to see what Alana has in store for next year.

Freesurf: It seemed like last year ended on a bittersweet note for you. Can you talk about what that feels like to be on such a roll and still not make it?

Alana Blanchard: Last year was kind of hard for me. I didn’t do too well in a lot of the events, so to do well in Hawai‘i was really special to me because it’s my home. That and it’s always extra special to win because I don’t really win a lot. But yeah, it definitely made last year way better even though I didn’t requalify. But I think it just made me hungrier for this year.

FS: For female surfers today, do you think you have to be a competitive surfer to make a career or can you do it on photos alone?

AB: I don’t think you have to do contests to make a living off surfing. I think it’s definitely way harder for a girl to make a career on just photos, but girls are starting to do it, and its just making girls surfing bigger and better.

FS: A lot of surfers complain about it left and right, but it seems that you don’t really mind the WQS. AB: The ’QS definitely has its good and bad; I’m really not that picky on the whole thing though. For me, to be honest, it would just be better not doing any contests at all. But at the same time, I don’t really mind it…it’s always cool to travel.

FS: Can you run us through what you have planned for the next year?

AB: I’m just gonna do the ’QS and try to qualify again. But other than that I just really want to travel and do some fun trips and just have fun with it all.

Andrewbird.com

inside section

Addictions with

Torrey Meister

I can’t live without God because he makes all things possible.

6 My family and friends. They’re the most supportive people in my life and they keep me going.

My iPod. Airplanes are so loud, especially when you’re sitting next to little kids.

I can’t live without the Big Island. It’s where I started and where I’m ending.

My pets. They put a smile on my face.

And of course poke and rice with a couple Steineys.

A Bird Sings

Sometime after 7 pm on a Saturday night, Andrew Bird stood before a packed house of hipsters at Pipeline, mumbled something gruff and inaudible to all but those in the first row and began the most symphonic display of whistling, string plucking, and violin swooning I’ve ever heard. Bird is the antithesis of typical, wearing a blazer and tie to his shows, and creating a one-man orchestra so creative that you’d be a fool not to call it a stroke of genius.

To say that Bird is a whistling and violinist master would be the understatement of the year as he’s adept and in tune with a plethora of instruments that most of us have never even heard of. A native of Chicago, the storyline behind many of Bird’s songs reflect the glitz and grit of the city with his song, “Section Eight City” striking a chord in the soul of anyone who’s ever studied, or more acutely lived in, a low-income housing project. The venue at Pipeline when Bird took the stage was littered with the flannel and tight denim of Honolulu’s trendiest, soaking in the vibe of the show. With his unique blend of classical, jazz and touches of indie rock, Bird’s eclectic taste of music has been slowly winning over the admiration of critics and fans alike. If you’re fans of DeVotchKa or the Arcade Fire, you’ll grasp where Andrew Bird is coming from.

“I have been surprised so many other people have come to the party, because I’m used to struggling. When I come back from getting my coffee before the show, and I see the line of people out the front of the club, my stomach sinks a bit with the presence of every single person in that queue,” said Bird in an interview with writer Anthony Carew.

“Like: ‘don’t disappoint them now!’ It feels like everything is weighing on me…I’ve spent years in the trenches, battling just to get to this point. So, I can’t blow it now.”

You may not hear of Bird setting the pace to the latest Taylor Steele flick, but there’s a good chance that the guys surfing in the film will be comfortably acquainted with his music.

// Wear a leash, forget what we said last issue. Swimming is overrated // And when you do, don’t coil it around your board, it’s only gonna make it

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inside section

waveriders

Sounds

M ovie

R eview

Waveriders TJ Barron Baeseman

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tuesdays wednesdays thursdays Fridays Saturday

11:30 pm 5:30 am / 8 pm 2 am / 1 pm 4:30 pm 11:30 am

Mondays tuesdays wednesdays thursdays Fridays Sundays

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6:30 pm 12:30 am / 2:30 pm 3:30 am 5 pm 5 am 6 am

Now oN the U.S. maiNlaNd Orange COunty Thursdays 10 pm Sundays 6 pm

reSOrtS SpOrtS netwOrk uSa Check Loacal Listings

Santa BarBara Mon thru Sat 9 pm

San DiegO Check Loacal Listings

Wide open to northwest Atlantic swells, the limestone backdrops of Ireland are an ideal set up for world-class surf and cold water charging. And Irish roots may have more to do with modern surfing than you might think. In the introspective documentary, Waveriders, the film weaves together all of the stories and characters that have culminated into today’s blossoming Irish surf scene. As Slater puts it, “there’s castles on the beach and lush green fields, it’s a cold paradise!”

Presently, in modern-day Ireland, and the sky is the limit for surfing.

Still somewhat secluded, the chilly waters off Ireland provide a plethora of potential. And with the recent addition of the Jet Ski, surfers are finding and surfing not only big-wave setups but hollow mutant slabs in many of the unique coasts’ nooks and crannies. As an arena sampled by world-class pros like Kelly Slater and the Malloy Bros., Ireland has definitely emerged as a top-shelf surfing destination for willing surfers to test themselves. Documenting Irish ties into modern surfing is a first step towards shedding light on the Lucky Country, Waveriders is a success.

And with any luck, it won’t be the last we hear of Ireland. —Tyler Rock

Grab a surf film from the late '90s, say Momentun II or Good Times, and your ears will be ringing to the likes of Bad Religion and NOFX. Cringe or smile, but those days are gone now. Punk is dead, well, at least in most surf videos.

On the other hand, if you were to cue up a current flick, let’s say Modern Collective, and it’s as if you’ve been transported to an Eastern Europe rave, minus the gold chains and track suits. And you know what? We like it. So if you’re trying to make the transition into what’s current right now music wise in the surf cinema world, look no further than our compilation of artists below.

The Sounds

>

MGMT

>

Animal Collective > Hot Chip

>

The XX

>

Van She

>

kink later // Barrels over airs, any day // Carissa Moore, ’10 champ

Force

II

TEAMRIDER

Kyle Foyle Toll Free: (800)443-5656

Flojos.com

Flojos@Flojos.com

Photo: Little

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There’s a feint light filtering through the vegetative canopy encapsulating the hunter. He’s quiet, stealthy and his pair of normally glowing eyes have morphed into tightly honed slits, surveying the land before him, sussing out any disturbance in the brush. All of his senses are keen. He pauses, takes a hushed breath and smells the air, searching for the scent of the hunted. On his body, he carries with him an archaic tool that’s been used to kill for millennia. His bow, his trusty bow that has claimed more than its fair share of boars in the past, is ready to carry out its master’s orders. It will shoot straight if directed and kill its target with a ruthless efficiency. But right now, in the mud and cold on the Big Island, there is nothing. The air is still and void. Shane Dorian takes another breath, readjusts his bow and continues the hunt.

Ten years ago Shane Dorian had already found his mark on the surf world. Along with his counterparts of the Momentum Generation, they had quickly become the stuff of legends, catapulted onto the scene by Taylor Steele and his brand of no-bullshit surf cinema. Among this esteemed group, a virtual who’s who of American and Hawaiian pros from the ’90s, they held more contest wins, national titles, fabled video segments and swagger than they could count. They were untouchable. Unbreakable.

And no one embodied this sense of the times quite like the Big Island’s favorite son, Shane Dorian. By 17, he had all of the earmarks of a legend in the making. He was fearless in waves that could kill, held a smile that could melt the hearts of women the world over and his smallwave game was at an apex with the rest of the world.

But there’s a funny thing about time—it keeps on ticking. Forever moving forward, there’s always a batch of upstarts primed to take your position, ready to own your status. And for the Momentum ilk, this happened all too quickly. First came the likes of Andy and Bruce and then Mick and Joel. Now it’s Jordy and Dane. The Momentum Generation slowly gave way. But through it all, while many of his counterparts have taken marketing jobs and now dub themselves family men, Shane’s held his esteem and remained just as relevant as ever. Unbreakable.

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“ We would go on to become really good friends, but there was this competitive rivalry between us that I’d say began when we were 13 out at Bowls that we always had.”

—Ross Williams

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Shane’s story begins, like all of ours, with his parents. His mother moved to Hawaii when she was 18 to attend UH. His father made the pilgrimage to Honolulu from LA in the late50s. The pair met, fell in love, and relocated from the hustle of the metropolitan life in Honolulu to the lava-toned fields and sunny shores of Kona. A family was started. Patrick Shane Dorian entered the world and surfing would never be the same. His parents would open up a restaurant, Dorian’s, and Shane would take to the water, at first on a bodyboard and then moving onto something a little more lasting, most notably a thruster.

Over the years, Shane became a mainstay on the Big Island at Banyan’s, sharpening his game over the lava-rock and wana-infested reefs of Kona. Progressively, he was on par with anyone, and when the buoys clocked double-digits and squash tails turned to pins, you’d find Shane smiling. Always eager to test himself. His time to make the pilgrimage to the North Shore had come. Off to the proving grounds he went.

“I was 15 when I moved to the North Shore and lived with Jason Magallanes and his family,” recalls Shane. “I went to Waialua High School. I shipped my little VW rabbit over and we were just little North Shore rats. I loved it.

Coming from Kona I was sort of terrified of big surf but when I started hanging with Jason, Ross Williams and Matty Liu they pushed me and I learned quickly.”

Ross Williams, preeminent member of the Momentum Generation, recalls his first thoughts on Shane when they met as teenagers.

“I think we were 13 or so and I had to surf against him at the State’s out at Bowls. He beat me, I think he got second and I got third. It was the beginning of our rivalry. We would go on to become really good friends, but there was this competitive rivalry between us that I’d say began when we were 13 out at Bowls that we always had,” says Ross. “We’d have these heats and surfs and get really competitive later on when we were both on the tour, but afterwards we’d be best friends again.”

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From his launching pad on the North Shore, Shane moved through the ’QS and eventually found himself on the World Tour. Along with Kelly Slater, Ross and a host of other nowfabled friends, his career took form and he built a reputation as a soft-spoken but hard-charging surfer, someone capable of pulling off a win in 2-foot Brazil or 12-foot Backdoor. His became a household name. He won events, both on the ’QS and on the World Tour, and his career would crescendo with a fourth-place World Tour finish in 2000. And just like that, after nearly a decade of jerseys and heats, Shane decided he’d had enough. He would move back to the Big Island, maybe try his hand at hunting. And although he may have turned his back on competitive surfing, Shane’s publicity and name continued to take root. As a retired athlete he would take a second at The Eddie in 2001 and a third in 2004. His prowess in heavywater conditions refused to falter and he remained a standout in the XXL awards, winning the Ride of the Year award in 2008. We can’t shake Shane and Shane can’t shake the surf world. His name remained. But if you were to ask Shane about his current role, he’d downplay the hype. Ever humble.

“My life right now isn’t too sexy. I get my son ready for school, drop him off, surf if there’s waves, hit the gym, pick up my grom and head home to the family. I’m a family man. Once a week I try to spend a day up on the mountain bow hunting,” says Shane.

Although he may be a self-proclaimed family man, there’s still that voice inside of Shane that won’t be silenced. It’s the voice that’s pushed him to sit deeper, take off later, stay sharp, stay frosty. When the swells hit the kill-you-if-you’renot-careful mark, Shane’s there, tracking the pulses every move.

“Nowadays, I have my own family and after so many winters spent living on the North Shore I like to stay at home quite a bit. But when the surf is good I try to come over to get my fill and I still get the same butterflies I did when I was 15. The same emotions and excitement.”

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Baeseman

In a sport pockmarked by the jaded pro, Shane’s become a respectable figure, someone to look to as an example of not what could be done, but what should be done. But whom does Shane look to as an example of someone who’s done it right in the surf world?

“I always looked up to Brock Little. I loved his attitude about surfing and big waves and he was always trying to help younger guys get to the next level. A good role model to me is someone who is living the life he truly wants to live, not the life their ego is telling them they need but Ross Williams is a great example of someone who has figured it out. I respect him as a friend, a great family man and a guy who is living the kind of life he loves,” said Shane. “As a pro surfer exposed to a sort of fabulous lifestyle at an early age it is easy to get sucked in and feel you need that. I am grateful that life is not attractive to me now.”

But as we mentioned, time slows for no one. And no matter how deep our infatuation and admiration for Shane extends, there will be a day when Shane truly steps back from the stage and, dare we even mutter the word, truly retires. And from that void, someone will arise to become the stoic charger, the next to play the role of Shane Dorian. And if you were to ask Shane who will fill his shoes, he’ll tell you a story about Ian Walsh.

“Yeah, Ian and I have some serious personality similarities.

When I was his age I was in the exact same frame of mind as he is, reflects Shane. He’s a solid friend and a classic guy to hang with. I think I have spent as much time in the snow as in the surf with him the last few years. He is not afraid to huck himself off a cliff, either. That, and he loves Lil Wayne, you gotta love that.”

Maui

Whalers Village, Ka’anapali Front Street Lahaina Cannery Mall South Kihei Shops At Wailea Paia

Big Island

Kona Inn Shopping Village Kings’ Shops Waikoloa

Oahu

Outrigger Waikiki Hilton Hawaiian Village Pearlridge Center Aloha Tower Marketplace Waikiki Beach Walk Sheraton Princess Kaiulani Royal Hawaiian Center

Kauai

Poipu Shopping Village Anchor Cove

PHOTOS BY: AEDER

www.honoluasurf.com

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WILD N atu r e T h r o ws I t A l l at t h e V o l c o m P ip e l in e P r o “You know, every time you think you have it out there, you don’t,” said Jamie about not counting a win at Pipeline. “Even with 15 seconds left, 10…9…8…anything can happen out there. My goal is to win as many Pipe contests as I can. And there are only a few chances every year. I got one more now.”

As Jamie noted, counting your chickens before they hatch at Pipe has had disastrous effects for surfers in the past. But this year, in heaving Pipe at the inaugural Volcom Pipeline Pro, Jamie could have counted whatever he wanted.

This has become his wave. He’s now the man to beat out there. Completely in charge. Whether it be 12-foot or 3, Jamie’s adept. And this year, at an event that saw an array of conditions, Jamie remained supreme, winning the event and etching his name on the wave once again.

Heff

Jamie O’Brien, pig-dogging his way through the wild.

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Latronic Heff Heff

Clockwise from top left: The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is only three stone throws away; Nils Schweizer, grace under fire; Mark Healey, equally leathal at 20 feet or 6; Only four guys out, but just as intense as ever.

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Clockwise from top left: Mark Mathews knows his way around Backdoor as well as anyone; Flanked by shadows, covered by mist; The juice of Mid-Pac fruit; Derek Ho, a legend in his element; Ezra Sitt, about to get a standing ovation

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Top: There’s not a lot out there that intimidates Marcus Hickman Bottom: Landon McNamara, proving himself at the proving grounds.

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On a gem of gems, Danny Fuller mines a beauty.

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Jamie O’Brien. Backdoor doesn’t have to be deadly.

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Top: Jamie O’ again, the bull is loose Middle: Brett Barley gets gnarly Left: Kiron Jabour, set to break out in more ways than one.

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Get Lost w h y fall i n g

off the map is the best thing

that ever happened to surfing

Pete Freiden

S t o r y b y B e au F l e m ist e r

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Rock

Until you actually hear the sensuality and rhythm of a language like French being spoken among native speakers, or taste the steaming, greasy empanadas being hawked by a grandma on a Mexican bus...the images are but hearsay.

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They held an understanding of cloud and wind patterns long before meteorology became a science. Yeah, maybe they didn’t move house and home in search of some fabled left point that Uncle Kimo saw funneling in a vision, but upon a closer inspection, surfing itself is like a mini version of one of those ancient voyages.

Men standing bravely upon wood as it slides upon the sea. On the keels of these ancient crafts, slicing their way through the virgin waters that carried them away from home, they found a new home.

Travel back then was ballsy to say the least. It was a lot more of, “I hope we don’t sail smack into a category-five hurricane,” than, “I hope the checkout lady doesn’t nail us on the boards.” Nonetheless, what remains seething in the blood of any traveling surfer, from the old to the new, what keeps them wondering and searching and conniving new ways of going farther into the unknown is the pure and naked adventure in not knowing what we’ll find when we get there.

oddysies (no-hassle boat trips and all-inclusive surf resorts) surf travel will always have the adventure element solely because many of the best waves in the world lie just off the coasts of underdeveloped, volatile nations. Not to barf out the timeless it’s-the-journey-not-thedestination adage, but it’s always about the journey. The journeys make for the best stories.

Everyone has a little Peter Pan in them, that voice inside that’s always craving that rush, that unsure and intent sense of flight that one finds in the back seat of a Moroccan taxi cab as the driver casually passes another car on a blind turn with an oncoming semi materializing like Death itself. Gerry Lopez didn’t camp out in the jungle with a handgun in the ’70s with tigers roaring in the hot darkness, scoring empty G-Land, without knowing full well the risks of his situation. Nor did the surfers that were kidnapped (and released) by Tamil rebels in Sri Lanka a few years back. We know about the risks, because if there weren’t any, it wouldn’t be an adventure at all.

Does This Thing Have Seat Belts?

How Do They Do It Over There?

Everybody wants an adventure. And not just any adventure, but their own adventure; a trip, or place, or experience or moment that they feel that only they have had—the exclusivity of this experience making it all the more valuable. But at the same time, it’s gotta make your heart beat, make you sweat a little, give you that frightening awareness that you’ve run out of options and timeouts on this one. And despite the growing luxuries that kill our true

the villagers were a part of everyday life. I saw children start cooking fires with nothing more than two sticks and a hearty breath; 5-year-olds amply husking coconuts with crude machetes; a 3-year-old boy paddling a canoe through a reef pass into the open sea, spotting for his father spearfishing beneath him. Children caring for and raising other children while their parents tended to the garden or were engaged in other village work. The ages, mind you, are speculative, as many people in these villages do not know their exact birthday. In the many places where we venture, a perspective comes into focus. The beautiful question reveals itself to the privileged First-World surf tripper: Is what you want far more than what you need? Are the wants and needs unbalanced in your own life?

In this strange and foreign land you’ve traveled across the globe to go surf in and see, what is their balance between the two?

Life, Suspended

Latrionc

here’s a reason why we travel farther into the abyss.

We’ve become commercialized. Crowded. Bitter.

We need to breathe. But is there more to it than this Homeric odyssey, this rite of passage, this addiction and urge to rid ourselves of the faux and become drenched in the real? Ancient Polynesians, creators of the sport, had surf travel in their blood.

Arguably the greatest voyagers on Earth, sagging with the weight of men, pigs and dreams, they loaded up magnificent doublehull outrigger canoes and rode the shifting currents north upon the southerly swells. There was no newest edition of a Lonely Planet guidebook, but rather the seemingly divine knowledge to follow the constellation of stars.

If you do it right, there are certain things you will witness while traveling that will shake you to your very core. The live imagery being so foreign to “the way it is” where you come from. The speechless bafflement at a people’s ingenuity and resourcefulness in a life void of technology.

Take, for instance, the Solomon Islands.

Besides the country’s notorious history with rampant cannibalism and bizarre rituals like shark calling, I saw countless WTF moments, that left my jaw on the floor. Moments that to

It’s been said that the point at which you know you’re having a good trip is when you’re not asking, “What time is it?” but rather that sacred and priceless question, “What day is it?” It is at that innocent utterance that you realize you’ve unconsciously let go of the restraints of a linear schedule, of the past and future plans, to truly live in the present. Whether amid the constant flowing motion that is traveling, or the dream-like stints in the hidden jewels you may find, the certain guidelines and regimen that frame our normal lives quickly discontinue. This new life and reality, seemingly suspended from the real, with its shaky sense of time and blase indecisiveness is a good one.

When your friends begin to ask you questions like, “Dude, when’s the last time you changed out of your boardshorts?” you realize that for perhaps the last week or so you’ve surfed, slept and stewed in them. You shrug the “Is this a problem?” look back, also realizing that come to think of it, you may not have looked in a mirror in a while, too. What day is it, again? Welcome to the beauty of travel. The beauty of floating. Not needing to be anywhere at anytime for anyone. Life becomes quite simple and basic. Shrunken are the countless wants and needs and obligations of normal life.

Even the vanities of mirrors, hygiene and overall uptightness dissolve into a faint itch, like a passing thought, Did I forget to wear underwear again today? The thought cast away with an indifferent shrug.

Wise Up We travel to learn. And, damn, there’s a lot to learn out there. It can’t just be about the waves, the name, the spot or the beach. You’d have to be blind to not learn something or be amazed at what’s going on in the places that surfers travel to. It’s the stuff that school or college or TV or films can never impart. In a foreign land, your senses are the most accurate keepers of

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memory and truth. You could read about Indonesia, but until you actually smell the smoky spices of the incense burning for the gods every sleepy morning in Bali, the place is just not as real. Until you actually hear the sensuality and rhythm of a language like French being spoken among native speakers, or taste the steaming, greasy empanadas being hawked by a grandma on a Mexican bus, or see the sighing pastels of a sunset a thousand miles away from home, the images are but hearsay. The senses never lie, and travel, for the most part, is sensory overload. Moreover, because of the volatility of the places surfers search for waves, they actually become some of the first foreign testimonies to the revolutions or disasters that plague so many developing nations. We, surfers, were some of the first to call home about a coup détat in Fiji, or a devastating tsunami in Samoa. The earthquake in Sumatra, or the workers’ strike in Peru. Of course we’re no Reuters, but when no one else has any reason to be wandering the beaches of Gambia, there’ll be a surfer there to bear witness first hand to what they saw.

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Where The Wild Things Are When Timmy Turner, Brett Schwartz and Travis Potter showed the world their feral manifesto, Second Thoughts, it struck a chord in our wild hearts. Yes, they scored empty and perfect tropical tubes, mostly shot in Blair Witch Project fashion, cams mounted on boards and helmets, but the waves were just part of the scenario—a byproduct at best. The true allure was the desert island drop-off, the hunting and gathering, the catching of potable rainwater from leaf funnels, the gruesome slaughtering of the sacrificial goat, the desolation, the muck and the mire. It was these things that really had us saying, “I want to go there….”

The grit of this film brought out the hidden primordial caveman in all of us. We yearned to get dropped off in a malaria-infested jungle with some spear guns, a water purifier, and a buck knife.

Rough it. Second Thoughts was the true protest and antithesis of the pampered boat trip or resort life. It was full immersion, exploration, and flop-sweat. Ironically it wasn’t even “living like the locals do,” it

Justin Riddleberger

Baeseman

Baeseman

was below that, delving into extreme uncomfort, equatorial heat, and hunger—but surviving it and scoring along the way. It showed us that a true surf trip should be dirty and sticky and that this self-inflicted rite of passage is a privilege. Timmy Turner and the boys were actually doing deep down what our repressed conscious was telling us what we needed to do. It aint all about the waves.

Escapism We all have something we don’t need at home, right? Maybe it’s that last slippery Brazilian that cut you off for the umpteenth time out at Rocky Rights. Maybe it’s the last jerk who’s car you pulled up while working valet and said, “You didn’t steal anything out of it did you?”

Maybe it’s an overly needy girlfriend or overly needy boss. Maybe it’s the realization of how much more crowded your homebreak has gotten in the last five years. Maybe a surf mag has shown J-Bay or Desert Point pumping for the last time that you can handle it before lamenting, “Okay, that’s it…”

So you commit.

You go to Orbitz and click the button. Once there and traveling, you utter that special little truth, “God it feels good not to go to work.” You recognize the absence of responsibilities and pressures you have while abroad. You meet others, like yourself, on leave from the rat race. You embrace the beauty of the traveler’s anonymity, embrace the opposite of standing still. You have escaped…

There’s Still No Place Like Home We leave to come home again. Whether consciously or not, it’s a fact.

Examine the following common conversation of a guy who just went abroad and returned, speaking to a friend.

“Dude, how was_____?”

“Oh my god. It was so good! Waves were pumping, like no other surfers, the people are awesome; the food, too.

“Could you ever see yourself living there?”

“What, in____? Like forever?...nah.”

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What Have You Done For Me Lately?

We travel to give back. Or do we? I’ve visited nearly 50 different countries in the world and never joined some sort of volunteer organization or program—to be honest, it’s kind of selfish, really.

But one might say, “I slaved and saved all year for this trip, can’t they just work hard and do the same and visit my country? Why do I owe them anything?” The answer to the first part of that question is simple: probably not, and the second is a little more complicated. Sure, no one has to do anything. But as travelers and furthermore nationals of varying countries, we are marked.

The question is, what are we marked for? Are there stereotypes that label us as Americans or Brazilians or Aussies or whatever? And are the stereotypes negative, can they be altered? Giving back can start small. And the small things do make a difference— possibly as big as marking whether a certain people are welcomed or not into an entire country. Small things like examining whether it’s really worth bargaining over cents for a cab ride, or leaving an old t-shirt or two to the nice guys at the warung. What’s the difference between treating the people squabbling to serve you for a few bucks with respect and human decency with some sort of rude superiority? What can a genuine smile and some patience mark you as?

On a larger level, 10 years ago Kiwi born Dr. Dave Jenkins was surfing the Mentawais and noticed how many local people of the archipelago were sick and dying of malaria. He started a foundation called SurfAid International which has saved thousands of lives by simply delivering cheap mosquito nets among other preventative supplies to the people.

As you pack your bags and head off to that distant land to find yourself, and with any luck, a few empty peaks, take a look at someone like Dr. Dave, a man dedicated to giving back to an area that helped him find himself. Because when one journey ends, another one begins.

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Baeseman

A true surf trip should be dirty and sticky—a self-inflicted rite of passage that has become a privilege.

Baeseman

The truth is____is probably really hot, like sweat while you sleep hot. The infrastructure is still very rough to inoperable, which is why electricity is iffy, which is why there is no fan and you were sweating in your sleep. And how does an ex-pat make a living in­­­­____ when only 30 percent of the population contributes to a very low GDP, and the rest of the folks subsistence farm and fish?

Picture this: While checking the spots and looking down the beach at numerous peeling waves, do you ever see that “one peak down there” that really looks like it’s “tubing nicely”?

The side view from afar is always deceiving. You walk up on it and face it from the front and this perfect tubing right actually has a really corrupt government and shocking body oder. You get the picture. And while home may not be some idyllic Eden, it’s home nevertheless. Everyone speaks your own language (or a version of it), everyone shares the same courtesies and ideals of respect. You realize that the peak you left to check, is actually kind of perfect.

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Induction Hour

All photos: Rock

Hawai‘i Takes Silver at Quiksilver ISA World Junior Games

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fter eight days of slogging it out in nearly every type of condition imaginable, the Quiksilver ISA World Junior Games in New Zealand culminated in a fifth-straight team title for the Australians. Throughout the event, the Americans and Hawaiians see-sawed, countered and attempted to edge out their Aussie counterparts for the rating’s lead, but the likes of female sensation Tyler Wright—sister to soon-to-be World Tour rookie Owen Wright—and grom du jour Matt Banting proved to be too sharp, too quick, and too technical to be outdone by the Hawaiians and they would go on to another silver-medal finish. The Australians had done it again, proving that they alone can carry the distinction and pride of producing the best surfers in the world.

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“ The thing I love about the ISA Games is that it’s a team event, you do everything for your team. I like working for something that’s bigger than me. But this event is definitely the hardest one I’ve ever surfed in.” —Alessa Quizon

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Yes, the Australian team may have won the event, but you can rest assured that the talk around the surf industry water cooler for the next month will be centered on Brazilian Gabriel Medina.

Over the course of the past year, Medina has become the face for the rising talent pool coming out of Brazil, first by becoming the youngest competitor to ever win a WQS event, and second by posting two 10s and a win at the Quiksilver King of the Groms event in France. And now, after nailing his surname to the chest of the industry with a 19.9 showing and a world title in the Under 18 division at the ISA Games, Medina just became the stuff of junior surfing legends—a 10, a 9.9, 9.46, an 8.5, and an 8.42 in one heat alone will do that to you. Watching Medina whip frontside rotations and seamlessly link speed hacks to carves and you couldn’t help but think that, junior or World Tour aside, this kid is untouchable in head-high lefts on his forehand.

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Continued from page 62

In the Under-16 division, the aforementioned slayer from Australia, Matt Banting, proved that there’s a lot more than just luck fueling the surfers from the Lucky Country. Banting, who won every heat of the event save one, surfed so technically sound, fluid, and laid back, he resembled a cross between a young Parko and Fanning. Banting dominated much of the final over a very in form Koa Smith and Jake Halstead from the USA, and Hiroti Arai from Japan with a 15.9.

For Hawai‘i, their dominant force of the event came in the form of west side sensation Alessa Quizon who would go on to take a silver medal for the women. Facing Tyler Wright in the final, Quizon punted a clean frontside grab to the tune of an 8 and took the lead. Everyone had written off Wright to a silver-medal finish. That is, everyone except for Tyler Wright herself. With just a few short seconds to spare, Wright clawed her way into an 8.6, stealing the win back from Quizon. Ever the seasoned competitor, Alessa took her showing in perfect stride.

“The thing I love about the ISA Games is that it’s a team event, you do everything for your team. I like working for something that’s bigger than me. But this event is definitely the hardest one I’ve ever surfed in.”

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Continued from page 64

For the men, Koa Smith, Keanu Asing and Tanner Hendrickson all surfed on a higher plane with each surfer putting the world stage on notice that Hawaii will be a surfing powerhouse for years to come.

“Being part of team Hawai‘i is a huge honor, the support from teammates on the beach really pushes us in the water,” said Koa. “It’s also a great chance to surf with guys from around the world that I don’t see at most contests. I’m already looking forward to surfing in the ISA again next year!”

At the end of the tour, Hawai‘i once again displayed their characteristic mix of aloha and talent on the world stage. And although the team didn’t walk away with a gold, a silver-medal finish is something that we in the islands are very proud of. And come next year, with the bulk of the team hitting their stride, we have a lot to look forward to in 2011.

Team Results:

Australia 1st place Gold medal Hawai‘i 2nd place Silver Medal USA

3rd place Bronze Medal

unbreakable Shane Dorian p

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It’s the voice that’s pushed him to sit deeper, take off later, stay sharp, stay frosty.

When the swells hit the kill-you-ifyou’re-not-careful mark, Shane’s there, tracking the pulses

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every move.

Continued from page 38

Looking back on his years on tour from the comfort of his home on the Big Island, Shane’s content with his life, happy with the way things have turned out. With the list of accolades bearing his name, it’s been an undeniably fruitful career. Nevertheless, Shane knows just how fleeting and short-lived the life of a pro can be and stresses that, yes, it works out for some, but it’s by no means the answer for all and poses advice for the next crop of budding pros.

“Make sure you really want it. If you do, put everything into realizing that dream. Don’t become jaded, appreciate everything you have,” stresses Shane. “Enjoy the ride and when it’s done, be thankful. And if it doesn’t work out, accept that and move on to something else you feel passionate about.”

Back in the damp woods on the Big Island, Shane takes a few steps forward, slowly shifting his weight from foot to foot, keeping the silence in the forest, blending in with nature. A few paces away, the shadows of a sau can be seen. The feral beast moves slowly, grazing morsels from the ground, oblivious to the arrow that Shane has placed in his hands. In a few short minutes, the hunted will become a kill and Shane will have hit his mark.

In this life, there will always be hunters. Since man first walked out of a cave there were those that emerged that silently took their place in the forest and in the oceans. Shane Dorian is one of these men. And for him, his hunt may include stalking wild boar or hurling himself over the ledge on a 20-footer. The act of pursuit is engrained into his psyche and it’s something he can’t turn off. This is why Shane remains in the spotlight. This is why Shane’s relevance will never be questioned. There can be a hundred 19-year-olds flooding the arena, but there can only be one Shane Dorian. Unbreakable.

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Free plugs Parko and Friends Now we know you’re fooling around on us from time to time. Reading other printed words and other magazines. Hell, we even caught you reading a book the other day. You didn’t see us, but we saw you. It’s okay, really, we’re not gonna stop you. We know you have other needs—needs that go beyond the definitive guide to surfing in Hawai‘i on a monthly basis. And like we said, it’s okay.

But if you’re gonna lay those pretty eyes of yours on a new book, just make it the one on Joel Parkinson.

We understand.

Parko and Friends

has a hard cover, flashy and full of insight into the world’s best runner-up.

It’s okay, really.

Take a look.

Open Daily from 11:00 am to 8:00 pm In the heart of Haleiwa Three Cheers for Simpo After a few years of close calls and narrow misses, we’re excited to say that one of our favorite Cali Boys, Brett Simpson, will be joining the 2010 World Tour. It’s been a longtime coming and we can’t wait to see what kind of impact Simpo’s gonna have. In honor of his departure to Australia for the maiden event, Hurley sent Brett off with a raging party and a dozen cheerleaders (we’re not making this stuff up) chanting “Brett’s number one!”

Maybe You Should Drive

Photo: Latronic

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In our January issue we documented young surfers hitchhiking around to surf.

The realities of hitching rides may save a bit of gas and even parking hassle but they also come with well-documented danger, especially for children. We at FREESURF recommend you take your keiki surfing whenever possible.

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The Restaurateur

Jairus Cannon Due to the disheartening percentage of success stories in pro surfing, many have had to venture elsewhere and cultivate other interests as means for financial support. These frugal few have done their economic homework.

They realized the fickle nature of a surfing career and thus have implemented backup plans in order to ensure some stability in their bank accounts.

Enter Jairus Cannon, a born-and-raised Maui boy who heads Maui Mike’s Fire Roasted Chicken in Wahiawa. Prior to his days as a restaurateur, Jairus enjoyed a lengthy career as a professional surfer. From his first contest win to his last day in a jersey, Jairus has been inundated with the sport from gromdom to manhood, earning a reputation as a ripper and a few mag covers in the process. But recently, whether by choice or by fate, Jairus’ career as a pro has slowed. Yet, he offers no complaints over the unraveling of events in his life and is thankful for every opportunity that’s come his way. “I loved every bit of it, because I was so lucky to get paid to surf.”

North shore

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But recently, whether by choice or by fate, Jairus’ career as a pro has slowed. Yet, he offers no complaints over the unraveling of events in his life and is thankful for every opportunity that’s come his way. “I loved every bit of it, because I was so lucky to get paid to surf.”

In fact, the slowing down of his surfing career has allowed Jairus to pursue other passions in his life, most notably, food—fire-roasted chicken to be exact. That’s where you’ll find Jairus today, sweating and smiling his way through the grind at his restaurant, Maui Mike’s Fire Roasted Chicken. So how does a guy named Jairus open a restaurant dubbed “Mike’s?”

When asked, he answered jokingly that, “It’s a secret. Nah, no real reason. It’s a catchy name and easy to remember.” Simple as that, right? Well, however nonchalant his attitude is towards the name of his business, he is very serious and equally passionate when it comes to his product.

“I always loved to cook,” Jairus confesses. “I get really stoked to serve my friends great food. So I figured I should continue to do what I enjoy.” Seems to be a recurring theme in his life, but the theory has worked wondrously well for him thus far. And though he’s more than happy to share his secret to happiness, he’s very tight-lipped about the secret to his chicken. However he did hint that it has something to with “a lot of aloha.” —By Noah Myers

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Last Look

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coming Next Issue:

Photo: Baeseman

The girls can’t be denied. We profile a handful of women reshaping the game. Also, we take you behind the lens of one of surfing’s preeminent water photographers.

Jamei O’Brien, pulling in to and ’fro.

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THE JAM. New for Spring 2010

photo : glaser

www.dragonalliance.com