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THE PHOTOGRAPHY ISSUE # 117 CULT OF THE SURF PHOTOGRAPHER By Matt Warshaw, Encyclopedia of Surfing


n the late 1970s, Surfer Magazine in America had gone monthly. The average issue size was about a hundred pages. By 1988, the magazine came in at two-hundred. The cult of the surf photographer boomed. But even with all these jumbo-sized surf magazines, only two dozen or so surf photographers were pulling down a decent wage. But money wasn’t really the point. It was the travel, the flexible schedule and the endless hours of beach time. It was also the only glamour job in the sport, apart from being a pro surfer. Again, this was particularly true in America, where photographers like Jeff Divine, Dan Merkel, Warren Bolster, Don King, Steve Wilkings, Aaron Chang, Larry “Flame” Moore, Art Brewer, and Jeff Hornbaker were regularly featured in profiles with the same heft and detail as those given to Tom Curren. Aaron Chang’s 1988 feature profile included a hemispheric map of his travels from the previous year, a shot of the photographer himself jamming a cutback, and a Q&A that touched on Chang’s love life and a recent struggle with “psychological burnout.” No sport in the world was being shot more personally or from so many angles. Surfers were photographed from underwater, from helicopters, from the back of a Jet Ski’s and from remote control. Angus Chater even attached a camera to the end of an eight-foot aluminum pole, which he hoisted up while floating over the wave, shooting down on the rider with a trigger device welded into the pole’s base. And Brewer, Chang and Hornbaker were doing portraiture work as good as any artist in the world. Water photography too was completely overhauled during this time. The waterhouse-covered camera, so heavy and cumbersome in the 1960s that the photographer had to ferry it into the channel atop his board, had slimmed down to a ten-pound unit that could be held like a lunchbox and taken into the heart of the impact zone. By 1984, a water polo player named Don King was shooting not just from the mouth of the tube, but flipper-kicking his way behind the surfer to capture the view from the back of the tube. On a good day at Pipeline or Backdoor in Hawaii, where most of the era’s best surf photography took place, King and the rest of the water specialists worked their craft with the timing and precision of knife-throwers. They embedded themselves in the wave as it lifted vertically and fanned out overhead, kept the camera trained on the surfer (a new feature called autofocus was a Godsend to surf photographers),

waited for the money shot (when the surfer was from six feet to six inches away), pulled the trigger, and then burrowed into the wave’s interior to avoid being sucked over into the whitewater mangle. Professional surfers and photographers started working together as well, and just like today, it was work. Because everybody’s paycheck depended on a steady feed of magazine photos, the whole operation became choreographed. King and the rest of the A-list photographers rarely got pitched over the falls, and could shoot an entire season without so much as brushing up against their subject. Cameras themselves were occasionally rammed or “drowned.” There were plenty of bumps and bruises. But no surf photographer died in action until 2005, when 33-year-old Jon Mozo of Hawaii drowned after going over and hitting the reef at Pipeline. Surf photography was given a mainstream benediction in 1985, when American Photographer Magazine published a 14page cover story titled “Surf’s Up! Aaron Chang Shoots the Curl and Lives to Tell About It.” Chang, from San Diego, was the exotic-looking son of a Scottish mother and Chinese father. In his American Photographer portrait he radiates mid-’80s surf-cool: turned-up shirt collar, moussed hair piled into a wavy black nest, a tripodattached Nikon slung like an M-16 over his shoulder. Chang was the sport’s best all-arounder, equally skilled shooting from the water, the beach, and in the studio. And he knew how to give a quote. Crowds of photographers on the North Shore had turned the winter season into a “real maggot scene,” he said, and the low-paying surf magazine editors had turned his life into that of “an indentured servant.” This wasn’t exactly true—around the time of his American Photographer profile, Chang was making $50,000 a year. Yet despite Chang’s rebukes, he also said, with an attractive low-voiced sincerity, that when entering the ocean he “strongly feels the presence of God”. And by such rude-to-sacred means did Chang do his part to uphold surfing’s reputation as something out of the ordinary. (Editors note: Every surfer on earth should visit Warshaw’s eos.surf and sign up. And go hug a surf photographer today. This issue proves we would be nowhere without them).












COVER: Made Joi, frozen in time in a timeless place. Surf photography has never been better, thanks to great artists like photographer Liquid Barrel. The tight focus, not single drop of water out of place, an intimate, private portrait of a surfer in the most worshipped cathedral of our sport. A screaming moment made calm. More a meditation than just another image. Look close enough and you will see yourself. Photography by Liquid Barrel

Thanks to surf photography, moments like this are still ours forever. Mind tattoos. Hold it up to a mirror for double the thrill.





hey speak to us in a silent language. Our language. A language flush with all the colors that lie between us and the deep blue sea. Travel surf photographers capture forever the Holiest of all surfing doctrines: life as freedom. Part explorer, part voyeur, part artist and all surfer, they move through this world with eyes as mirrors. To them, all is bathed in a magical light. Even us. But their real siren’s call is the form of the wave itself. A phenomenon of science and cosmic planetary message. A pulse of disruptive energy that goes to war with gravity and in doing so becomes nature’s most beautiful moving sculpture. A liquid form that pours like blue gold over unseen contours that turn the smooth surface of the sea into the plunging vortices that taunt and invite and enfold and tumble us all. The science of these pulses of energy that we ride and photograph and regard and listen to for hours is as outrageous as any physicist would care to consider. A metamorphosis of violence that ends in a dramatic murder of furious energy. Think of the reef as the vanquisher. No matter what comes its way, no

Photographer liquid Barrel catches another scream in blue. What sports photographer gets closer to the peak action? There is none.

matter how big, or how powerful or how organized, the reef is invulnerable to the wave’s onslaught. Stalwart throughout the millennium, the reefs remain as the catcher’s mitts, wildly outnumbered by a relentless, pounding and tearing enemy. And yet, the reefs remain as the waves eventually disappear over them with a final gentle hiss. Like a boxer that likes to get hit, absorbing tremendous punishment but still remaining on his feet after the 12th round bell. There is so much power and glory going on when a wave breaks that it is no surprise that when waves are beneath our feet, our toes dug into our wax, that we can think of nothing else but them. Even if we are riding them during their final moments of life. And in that way, we literally ride waves to their death. The science is known as fluid dynamics, for those of you who have actually taken a physics class. “A breaking wave is a wave whose amplitude reaches a critical level at which some process can suddenly start to occur that causes large amounts of wave energy to be transformed into turbulent kinetic energy”. What the…anyway…even poindexter scientists know that surfers seek a plunging wave. “This occurs when the ocean floor is steep or has sudden depth changes, such as from a reef or sandbar. The crest of the wave becomes vertical, then curls over and drops onto the trough of the wave, releasing most of its energy at once in a relatively violent impact”. No sh*t. But still, there is plenty to be learned from these scientists. Stuff that us know-it-all surfers might be surprised to actually open our minds enough to learn. For example, the crashing sound of a plunging wave, or any wave for that matter,

Ben Benson, ice climbing at Keramas. No moment is more crystal clear in our sport than than a miraculous recovery.

The incomparable Marlon Gerber. Going the wrong way the right way.

is caused by air. When a wave traps and compresses air, it creates that crashing and hissing sound as the air fights to escape back into its natural atmosphere. Just like us. So in a way, air wipes out too. Which brings us back to the the surf travel photographer who wanders in, upon and above the seven seas bringing these phenoms quite literally to light. He travels through exotic bazaars, heavens and hell’s, bullfights and bars. All for the sirens call of the waves. These photographers are not documenting but reflecting, not taking, but capturing the breathless moments that live in our minds as long as we live. Those hauntings that both liberate and enslave us as surfers. Empty, spindrift line-ups, aquarium blue lagoons, cylindrical green barrels, tanned skin, endless horizons, foreign eyes. Those profound images that inspire wild hopes and aching envies, driving a young surfer to draw a perfect wave on the margin of his math test. Or driving a grown man to lay down his last paycheck, or even his life, on a last chance plane ticket to the East. Or driving a New York accountant into a five millimeter wetsuit just to take off deep on a freezing wave on a worthless, blown out afternoon. Just to pull into a icy maelstrom for the split second view from the inside out. These photographers are inspirationalists. Bringing to light that which we surfers most secretly like to think of ourselves. That we are heroes. Intrepid in our quest for our ocean moments. These photographers who capture and captivate our lives hold a magic in their index fingers. A magic even a mystic would crave. These photographers put waves in a bottle. Our waves. These photographers put time in a bottle. Our time.

Tonjo Darmaputra, foot to the floor, inside his favorite photo studio, only a single thought on his mind. Do we as surfers control moments like this? Or do these moments give us the opportunity to control them?

Ketut Agus, back from injury with eyes on the prize. A surfer who, despite his smiling energy on land, is deadly serious once he gets wet. Environmentally, philosophically and physically, the older generation has done a remarkable job raising the surfers of our new generation.

David Rastovich

John Alexander Florence 28


By Sean Doherty • Photography by Ted Grambeau

Down time. Way off the grid in Tasmania. Going places on waves previously thought impossible. Mind surf this situation. What would you do? John John torqued the nose down almost vertical, dove through the foamball, engaged the right rail near the nose and crouched for the final tight tube with his toes over the front of his board. At 185cm and 76 kilos, his ability to distort his body to deal with any situation on waves from one meter to twenty is startling.


e cross the coast over Point Impossible and fly out over the Bass Strait. The ocean is whipped white, and the little plane jerks like a dancing puppet. John Florence ’s eyes don’t leave the ocean below for the whole hour. We are off for King Island, Tasmania, one of the last traces of the old land bridge that connected Tasmania to the Australian mainland during the Ice Age. With a free week between contests, Florence is here for the waves, but also for a kind of solitude. We land and we drive straight to the island’s bakery. Florence stands in line with a bunch of workers on their lunch break and it’s immediately clear: Nobody knows him here. Florence is immediately disarmed and pulls off his hoodie. If you’re sick of the world talking about you, King Island Tasmania is not a bad place to be.

Dave Rastovich is now sitting across the table from John. Through some kind of cosmic alignment, Rasta is on King Island for another of his environmental protests. It’s the first time Rastovich and Florence have ever met. On the surface the world champion and the environmental champion wouldn’t appear to have much in common, but you strip the whole competitive spectacle out of the equation and think about them purely as surfers…well… then Florence has more in common with Rastovich than he does with the Tour guys. Having Rastovich on the island has shifted the paradigm and has clearly got Florence thinking. We check the surf after lunch. It looks like a poor man’s version of Skeleton Bay but a right. “I’d paddle that,” Rasta says. The words aren’t even out of his mouth before Florence replies: “I’m in.”

They paddle. The current is ferocious, but Florence puts his head down and somehow makes ground against it. He and Rastovich are the only two surfers for hundreds of miles but for four hours they surf without a word.

Like Kelly Slater before him, it’s strange how our Champions escape the high pressure of the tour by placing themselves in even higher pressure situations out in the middle of nowhere. JJF. King Island, Tasmania. Putting it all on the line whether he has to or not.

John Alexander Florence

David Rastovich

John Alexander Florence

Short but very, very intense, the jacking, beachbreak sea wedges of King Island are no joke. Cement packed sand, guillotine lips and icy cold water make sure of that. And that’s the thing about Dave Rastovich. As blissed out as he may seem on land, once he hits the water he can surf with hellfire intent.

On the way back to our farmhouse the pair get to talking, about silence. Rastovich speaks on the subject with some authority. For years he wouldn’t speak on Tuesdays. He recommends Florence read a book called “Quiet,” which examines the role of the introvert in an increasingly noisy society. Florence downloads the book onto his Kindle as soon as he gets back to the house. Florence is not the first person to struggle with the vicious circle of sports stardom. He places a high premium on his privacy and his space. The result is that he’s more underground today as world champ than he was an eight-year-old. It’s been fascinating to watch it play out over the past few years. To start, Florence moved out of the family home at Pipeline and bought a beachfront property down the quiet end of the strip at Log Cabins. When that gets too much that he’s got a darkroom in the house. When the North Shore itself gets too much he simply sails off in his boat or jumps a plane to somewhere quiet. He’s managed tightly by sponsors and it’s almost impossible to get a formal interview with him. His personal social media accounts gather dust. Yet Florence is the highest paid surfer ever, and is bordering on being bigger than the Tour itself. It’s not a power trip, however. Far from it. It’s Florence simply living the life he wants to live, pushing back against a world that demands more and more. For the World Surf League, having their most marketable asset occasionally go missing must cause headaches. But from the fans’ point of view they’re behind Florence all the way. We’re up before dawn the following

morning and driving out to the surf in the dark. The waves at this end of the beach aren’t geometric peaks, but dinky little wedges. Florence says he likes weird waves. So Does Rasta. For Florence, it becomes a game. He surfs all day, toying with it. He gets tubed a hundred ways. He even gets tubed sitting down on his ass.

Before they left the island the pair was already planning their next surf trip.

Our final night on the island is spent at the King Island Club, the town hall bar in the island’s main town. It’s a big night on the island. The locals are rallying against a giant aquaculture company that’s planning to farm three million Atlantic salmon right where Florence had been getting tubed. Florence walks into the club wearing a

Bets are already being placed about how long Florence will last in the fishbowl of the Tour. Twice on the island while he’s speaking with Rastovich, I hear the phrase, “When I’m done with the Tour”. Despite the twin world titles you’re still not convinced the Tour is his natural environment. It’s unlikely he’ll still be there at, say, 46 years of age. Florence and Kelly Slater might be close, but they’re hardwired in very different ways. Kelly is the classic extrovert, drawing energy from the Tour to the point that walking away from it has become impossible.

“No Fish Farms Here” badge on his shirt. He sits down to dinner with the locals leading the fight. None of them surf, or even know who he is, but over a dinner of kangaroo steaks, Florence is locked in animated conversation with them. He’s asking about the fish farm, what it’ll do to the beach, what it’ll do the ocean and where the campaign’s at. He’s completely engaged. More in touch with the saltwater hemispheres than maybe any man alive. And with a loyal following of millions, if he put his mind to it he’d be an ocean defender without peer. You could see those wheels turning in Florence’s head. His time with Rastovich has been an eye opener.

So what does Florence do beyond the Tour? He’s the best surfer in the world right now and the most important surfer of his generation. A fact the Tour, the fans and his contract all recognize. But all of that’s ephemeral. What’s his lasting imprint on surfing going to be beyond some trophies and a highlight reel? We’re seeing Slater’s big vision for surfing playing out right now, a big concrete and chlorine legacy project. So what will Florence leave us? Does he try and change surfing like Slater, or try and change the world like Rastovich? Or does he just climb aboard his 48-foot ocean cat one day and sail off into our vast Ocean’s to find some waves.One thing’s for sure, Florence cares far less about this right now than we do. No surfer since Kelly Slater has had the platform Florence has, but no surfer has wanted it less. Surfing can be sublimely contrary like that. While society makes stars of the people who want it most, surfing has a way of doing the very opposite. So maybe sailing away from it all one day, someday soon, might be the most influential move Florence could ever make.

Photography by Marcus Paladino



here exists the most extraordinary telephone booth in Japan. It sits in a serene garden overlooking the Pacific Ocean on the outskirts of a town called Otsuchi. This white, glass-paned phone booth holds a disconnected rotary phone, its cables neatly coiled and attached to nothing. It never jangles with incoming calls. And outgoing messages don’t travel through cords. Instead, the booth is a mediation on relationships, life, and death. And it has become a pilgrimage site for residents untangling the grief that remains knotted in their stomachs. The grief caused by the giant wave that erased over sixteen hundred lives. When the earthquake and Tsunami’s struck Otsuchi in 2011, three 30-foot waves swirled through their houses. A centuries old town was obliterated in under 15 minutes. In the aftermath, Itaru Sasaki nestled the old, salvaged phone booth in his garden. He then invited everyone to step into the booth and make a call to their dead relatives and friends lost in the Tsunami’s. To say all the things they could not say when their dead friends and family were alive. “Because thoughts like this cannot be relayed over a regular phone line” said Sasaki, “They must be carried on the wind”.

Pete Devries, slamming around in a land that is both aggressively bold and subliminally delicate.

With even an Ocean that looks different than all others, Japan will forever remain our mysterious shores. How is it that this great nation, as disciplined and spiritual as it is, has never produced a major surfing player on the world stage? Perhaps, like Indonesians, they have such pride and belonging in their own place in the world that they don’t need anything else. We may laugh at the Japanese from time to time because they are so different. But know that they laugh at us for being all the same. Here Pete Devries practices the travelers approach. A full passport means an open mind.

The phone booth, Kaze No Denwa, the “the wind phone”, is now a type of shrine. And the people who visit it are pilgrims. Grief is hard to carry, it’s heavy and shifting. And this phone booth invites people to work out painful feelings in a private space. It’s a way of wrestling with tragedy. And it was all created in the wake of a series of giant waves that were the distant cousins of each wave we ride. Which is to say that Japan, with solutions to human grief like this, will never need the West. Japan will forever be distinctive and separate. Even when it comes to surfing. And for any of you lucky enough to visit and surf in the land of the rising sun, allow it to teach you at least one lesson. None of us are as smart as all of us.

Tsunami brothers and sisters hanging in remembrance.

In a nation of rabid fans of all things western, when a native son rises to prominence in America, the appreciation becomes worship. Kanoa Igarashi’s presence in Japan is cause for national celebration. It is impossible for him to walk down the street without bodyguards, people are naming babies after him, local schools are let out in any area he surfs and pop stars include him in their lyrics. His Bushido is evident in Japan. In the west, we do not even know what it means. “What each of us believes in is up to us”, Goes the Japanese credo,”but life is impossible without believing in something”.





mbedded in the Bukit for many years, Gene is a man of many talents. To hear about his background is hazy, and maybe he likes it that way. Brazilian? Some connection there. Russian? He’s actually a surfing Champion there. A guru of meditation, one of Bali’s top abstract painters, a thinker, a believer in the unseen forces around us, a skilled, wide traveling photographer, a Padang Padang master surfer and a social whirlwind, Gene is not an easy guy to peg down. But holding court from his self-built “deep thought” palace overlooking the Padang Padang valley, Gene has the perfect spot to reflect on his years of intimacy with the Bukit Peninsula. As recognized in these photos, his willingness to hike around for new angles always pays off. And maybe, just maybe, that is one form of his love for the place.

Balangan, biggest swell in living memory, July,2018.

The Temple Monkey tree view, low tide Padang Padang, November, 2018.

By Tommy Shultz • Photography by Enrique Rodriquez


his holy man has made his mark. Rising to the highest levels of competition in our Island surfing world. All the while staying true to the spiritual commitments of the Island of the Gods. “I always pray before I surf,” Says Mega Semadhi, “I go to the beach, make an offering, talk to the Gods. The Gods give you opportunities, but it’s up to you to make them work”. Strong words from one of the world’s most unusual professional surfers, one of only three competitors to have won the Rip Curl Padang Padang Cup twice against an international field of competitors. Mega’s name is already written into the history books of Indonesian surfing. His come-from-behind, buzzer-beater win at the Cup in 2013 is indelible. Seems fitting for Mega, a reincarnated soul of a Balinese Hindu high priest. It remains Mega’s passion and his destiny to one day become the High Priest of modern Uluwatu. An honor allowed few people on this earth, let alone


surfers. As a leader and keeper of Bali’s religious traditions, he will ultimately be responsible for preserving the traditions of the Uluwatu community that have existed for centuries. But balancing his spiritual responsibilities with his growing list of surfing accomplishments has not been easy. The Balinese Hindus regard the spirits that inhabit the island’s thundering surf breaks as dangers best avoided, not to be tempted by paddling out into the teeth of ocean swells. Yet his connection to the ocean remains as deep as his commitment to his life in the temple.Ultimately, for Mega, surfing isn’t just a pastime. It’s a way of life tied to the six hour rhythms of the ocean. And as the Bukit Peninsula faces the dangerous spiritual and economic shifts of tourism and development, Mega might very well find himself struggling to maintain the island magic of his people. But if any surfer on earth is up to it, it is Mega Semadhi.



Tom Curren and Temple of the Last Stone, Bali, Photographed at 0835hrs on 06/10/15


ithin the common, he sees the uncommon. He sees our privacy. Feels it. Making Mick Curley as much a counselor as he is a photographer. A private man, his photography reflects his own private insights into our very public lives. Not satisfied with merely capturing images, he conjures them. The result being revealing portraits on what surfing means to us as individuals. On our own philosophies, our own approach to our own surfing lives. Self taught, perhaps it was this alone-ness that has allowed Curley this intimate point of view. Abandoning the ultra technical approach and ease of today’s photography, Curley wields his camera like a quiet

hunter, tuned into the very nature of our sport. Treading lightly, silent step after silent step, blending into the environment, reading the signs, working our game trails, rarely noticed when he is shooting. But when he raises that lens, he has earned the moment and his aim is dead on. He seems to bring a silence to our thunderous activities. A pause. Not a look at something‌but a look into something. Photography is a remarkable achievement. Unlike the reflection of a mirror, which gives us an opposite look at ourselves, photography allows us a truth. Images outside our own consciousness, outside our own control, outside of us. Not images of how we see ourselves, but of how the

world sees us. And Mick Curley knows this. His camera does not allow us a look back because it looks forward. Just like the man himself. Looking forward toward life, forward toward miracles, forward toward us. Telling our stories. Telling all the stories in the world that we ourselves cannot put into words.

Garut Widiarta and Friend, Bingin overlook, Bali, Photographed at 1745hrs on 07/12/17

Gareth Budge and Friends, Batu Bingin, Bali, Photographed at 1610hrs on 09/28/15

Sima Rai and the summer solstice, Uluwatu, Bali, Photographed at 1835hrs on 06/21/16


Aido Surfboards Jl. Raya Semat, No. 2 Berawa, +62 813 37349725 | Insta: aidosurfboardsbali | Web: aidosurfboards.com


hotographer Leo Neves knows the value of personal relationship with his subjects. Traveling and surfing with the surfers you photograph, knowing their personalities and the way they move on a wave is the only way to capture their true individuality. With every surfer’s signature moments as varied as their fingerprints, this cannot help but inform a photo with that quixotic element of individual style. In this photo, Leo Neves captures Marcel Wau in a very individual moment at Padang Padang. Hailing from Lagundri Bay on Nias, Marcel would be an expert tube rider on his forehand, but what about his backhand surfing? Once an almond eyed tube that required a very high exit, the latest seismic roilings at Lagundri Bay have changed the wave into a very round barrel. Skill at riding the bottom third of the wave is now essential at Nias. Perhaps Marcel brought this newly honed technique to this moment on a recent session at Padang Padang, even though he might be unfamiliar with backside tuberiding. He is riding low, front foot in a Curren-esque perpendicular brace, right hand gripped just below the wide point of his board for control, left hand reaching for the upper face that might allow him to drag his board to the mid face final showdown and success into the channel. These moments don’t happen by themselves. And proper analysis of them, or at least keen observation reveal the soul of the surfer. Photographer Leo Neves has captured not only Marcel’s approach to Padang Padang, but probably his approach to life. Wiping out may be acceptable…but quitting isn’t. Look deeper at photos. Get into it. And get into yourself. Leo Neves does.






et us never forget that surf photographers are artists. Their canvas our lives. Their passion the movement of the water around us. The movement of water around themselves. And it is in that last bit that we can see inside the minds of these guys. Part tech, part composer and all alertness, these virtuoso’s see things we could never imagine. In a way we rarely, if ever, take time to imagine. Let alone see. Even though they are right there off the nose of our boards. A surf photographer’s swimming immersion leads to very private thoughts. Very private sights. Very private visions. And when they turn their hand held machines on these moments of the mind, a magic appears. A wonder. Our playground portrayed as an alchemy of their wizardry. A pseudo science. A look behind the curtain. A magic as elusive as a wild thought itself. We surfers may ride it. But photographers like Marcus Paladino become it. Let us never forget this.

Spread: Solar Flare Top: Rust never sleeps

Water Wing




Next exit


Blue Cheer

Ocean Ink

Golden opportunity



Photographed by Matt George on Cocoa Beach, Florida, USA at 0545pm, June 1st, 1989 6 4 SURFTIME

“Afraid of homophobic reprisals, this story was originally edited back in 1989 by Surfer Magazine so that it read that I was not in bed with a 17 year old Kelly Slater. But the truth is that I was. The Slater family at this time was half broke, living in a little stucco tract house, mattresses on the floor. I was told I would be bunking with Kelly on the same mattress. I never understood what the big deal was. I grew up with four brothers in one room. The following is the original story”. Mg, 2018 (A featured excerpt from Matt George’s upcoming book “In Deep: Life Liberty and the pursuit of surfing”, Langton Press, 2019).


e sleeps like an angel. Curled up on his side, dark eyebrows slightly raised, hugging his pillow to his chin. His adult-looking face, with its startling jade eyes, retired for the day; transformed into child-like repose, numb and divine. A face at peace with a world that is treating him so kindly. Or, so it would seem. Lying next to him in bed, I listened to the sounds of the night. Kelly’s measured breathing, the hissing of the nearby Atlantic Ocean, its gummy breeze sifting through the palms and strangely, the low snorting of two manatees rolling by in the lagoon system that laces itself through the backyards of sea-level Cocoa Beach. I glanced at the alarm clock. It was 3:00 AM on a January school night. Kelly and I had been up slumber-party talking and the conversation had just drifted off. He was gone in a matter of seconds. Now and then the night wind would lift the tattered sheet that was nailed up over his open window and spirit its way around his room. In one corner were a few split packing boxes, overflowing with surf trophies. In another was a single chest of drawers. Across the room was a closet

with its doors off the hinges and hanging inside was what looked like a salesman’s ultimate sample rack of every surf apparel manufacturer in the business. Wetsuits, T-shirts, sweats, Trunks, the works. Most with their hang tags still dangling. These labels would spin softly, forming a strange looking mobile. And to my left, on the otherwise naked walls, was the single poster Kelly had tacked up, depicting a cartoon character with its own head up its own ass. The slogan read: YOUR PROBLEM IS OBVIOUS. On the tile floor, Kelly and I were lying on a mattress with a light blanket pulled up to our chins. The look and feel of this household I’d become a part of a few days earlier had been a surprise to me. Considering Kelly Slater’s Golden Child public image, already seasoned by years of marketing, I’d expected something a bit more silver spoon. I found myself oddly pleased it wasn’t. There were no pretenses here. This was Salt-of-the-Earth stuff. From the moment I walked in the house, a white stucco tract unit at the end of a small cul-de-sac, I’d been treated like family. Mother Judy an EMT, volunteer firefighter,

bartender, waitress and currently looking for a fourth job to make ends meet. Stepfather Walker, just Walker, a marine engine mechanic, was absent. But older brother Sean and younger brother Steven were their on their separate mattresses. The family had been nomadic for three years now. Ever since Judy’s divorce from the children’s natural father, Stephen, the bait shop owner. An alcoholic. Rumor has it father Stephen had some middle eastern blood in his veins, hence Kelly’s olive skin and jade green eyes. Syrian, it was said. Or maybe Egyptian. The current Slater family had been moving from house to house, keeping a lot of things in boxes. They’d been renting this house for the last six months, but it too was up for sale and rumor had it the realtor had found a buyer. There are alot of rumors in Cocoa Beach, Florida. The family would be moving again soon. No one was quite sure when. I looked at the clock: 3:05 AM. Again, the sheet over the window moved. Beyond that was what Kelly had referred to as “the whole world out there.” Funny how he’d put it that way. As if the world were a separate entity, laying in wait. Ready to pounce…or reward.



WILLIAM ALIOTTI (ALL CAPTIONS BY DAMEA DORSEY) Ever surfed a wave that was absolutely firing but you kept seeing something up the point that looked even better‌.and nobody wanted a piece of it? I was floating around just inside of a good-sized pack of frothing surfers while optimistically waiting for a couple my friends to come flying past me in the barrel when I noticed just that. Perfect spitting empty barrels detonating just up from where the hungry pack was sitting. It was clear nobody wanted a piece of it cause it was right there and it was empty. It really wasn’t that hard to convince my friends. And after a strenuous couple hundred meters of swimming and paddling we arrived at this mysto wave just as a set arrived. We were in position and the wave was much heavier up close. It was steep, hollow, shallow, crystal clear blue, and fast. But makable. Makable as in, you made it about 35% of the time. The other 65% of the time you got blasted. Still, those 35% were juicier than a ripe mango so the juice was definitely worth the squeeze. This is William Aliotti and myself squeezing into one.

DENI BLACKBOY One stoked surfer. Deni is riding a hand shaped board made by Harrison Roach. We journeyed to some far off remote Southern Sumatran location for a week and scored epic surf. This is one of those shots that sums up a surf trip, Deni Blackboy stoked beyond words.

RINJANI AND SURFER I’ve taken this trip from Bali to Lombok and then over to Sumbawa several times. On this particular trip I took some time to check out some new spots. While searching I came across this view. I shot this photo from the far side of a gorgeous blue bay on Sumbawa looking back towards Lombok. That’s Mount Rinjani dominating the horizon. I like how insignificant the surfer looks to his surroundings. This shot makes me realize just how extraordinary our Indonesian surfing experience is.

NIC AND MATTIA There is nothing better than scoring perfect empty surf with a just one friend. That’s Nic Von Rupp, barreled. Mattia Morri, sharing the stoke. This break is as rare as the moments it provides. Perfect moments like this. We are so lucky to be surfers. Non-surfers never get to feel like this.



Brian Bielmann in Chill Out Stoney Boardshort

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n October 11, President of the United States Donald Trump signed something that’s good for the ocean. It’s called The Save Our Seas Act, and it puts funding in place for the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s Marine Debris Program. “This waste, trash, and debris harms not only marine life, but also fishermen, coastal economies along America’s vast stretches,” President Trump said. “The bad news is that it floats toward us. I’ve seen pictures recently, and some of you have seen them, where there’s a vast, tremendous, unthinkable amount of garbage floating right into our coast, in particular along the West Coast.” Donald Trump has not been particularly concerned with the environment thus far. He’s made it clear that money trumps all, which is a sentiment that many agree with. He opened up vast chunks of the ocean for drilling, shrunk national monuments,

and undid legislation that prevented farmers from dumping agricultural chemicals into streams. In the face of hard facts presented by researchers from all over the world, he famously said climate change is a hoax made up by the Chinese, and he appears to masturbate with fistfuls of coal. Because of all that, it may come as a surprise that he signed his name on a bill that helps get trash out of the sea. A good surprise. The Save Our Seas act passed the House and the Senate in July, and it “reassures funding to clean-up marine debris via funding through the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration Marine Debris Program.” The NOAA’s Marine Debris Program was created through the Marine Debris Act, which was signed into law by George W. Bush in 2006 and amended in 2012. After signing, Trump went on to point fingers at offending countries, like China.

“Every year, over 8 million tons of garbage is dumped into our beautiful oceans by many countries of the world,” he said. “That includes China, that includes Japan, that includes many, many countries.” He then went on to say that he’s spoken with foreign governments about what to do about the issue in his typically Americafirst way. “We will be responding, and very strongly,” he said. “As president, I will continue to do everything I can to stop other nations from making our oceans into their landfills.” According to the Ocean Conservancy, over 4 million metric tons of plastic in the ocean’s comes from just a few countries in Southeast Asia. China, Indonesia, the Philippines, Thailand, and Vietnam are the worst offenders. “It’s incredible when you look at it,” Trump said. “People don’t realize it, but all the time we’re being inundated by debris from other countries like Indonesia.”

Must the wonder of the interaction between surfers and the sea always end up in tragedy? Think about it…would you throw garbage at your mother? Photography by Liquid Barrel




e are proud to announce our new flagship store in Padang Padang, Bali. This new store has a new concept and the location is just few steps from where we hold our annual Rip Curl Padang Padang Cup Surfing championships. This 245 square foot store benefits from great natural light through the glass entrance, reinforcing the brand’s strong relationship with the outdoors with beautiful grass roof. With this new, fresh and clean store design the layout gives the ability to fully showcase the brand and its products including the latest Mirage Boardshorts collection, Rip Curl’s award winning My Bikini Swimwear collection and all the other quality products that has made Rip Curl Bali’s premium international Surf brand for decades. At its heart a hardcore surf shop, at the other side, they also feature the finest range of High Performance Surfboards on the market.



s a progressive brand in the ecospace and community of Bali and California, we felt our story would be the most impactful and well received in a space which we could control and convey the DNA of the brand. A space where our product is showcased in a soulful way that tells a story and is inviting to our customers and friends. The Indosole Flagship has been custom built with locally sourced materials and wood fixtures. The product wall features a moveable peg system which allows us to continuously innovate product placement and display our sandals and shoes in a thoughtful way. The center piece is a gold tire because…”Tires are gold to us!” The Indosole Flagship is adjoined through a doorway with Lettuce Inn which is a cafe


run by local heroes Shane Moran and Sam Wrench who have experience growing local businesses in the Canggu area and offer a range of delicious breakfast and lunch items, coffee, smoothies, and elixirs

and are open 8am - 9pm daily. Come visit us soon and see it for yourself: Jl. Pantai Batu Mejan No.69, Canggu Bali 80361, Indonesia.



aestro Chaperon Aido Wheeler has opened the doors on his new surf shop for hard core surfers in Berawa. Aido, one of Sydney’s most sought after shapers, has been shaping for some of the world’s best surfers under both the Rusty label and his own. But the Berawa outlet is all his. Especially his all new quiver designed specifically for Canggu. His “Happy Days” model is about all you need. But he also has his wicked “Playstation” and his wild “Replic8” models onboard for the ultra high performers among us in more serious conditions. “We decided to stay open triple seven” Says Aido, “That’s means open seven days a week from 7am to 7pm so we can always be there for anyone that is surfing that day”. And with Andre Anwar and Mansur Ramlin as the shop managers, you know

you are getting expert advice when picking up everything you need. And Aido does have everything for the involved surfer. Including an “Away Co.” demo rack for high performance rentals. “Our Happy Days model is the real motto of the shop,” Says Aido, “Get out there

and get into it!”. Aido Surfboards Jl. Raya Semat, No. 2 Berawa, +62 813 37349725 Insta: aidosurfboardsbali Web: aidosurfboards.com RESTAURANT REVIEW



ropicola, located in Batu Belig beach in Seminyak, is about creating a mood and a memory transported from other times and places to the exotic shores of Bali. Great Food, fantastic drinks and a bright, merry atmosphere ensures a great, new beachside club experience. The custom music and the sound system alone will transport every Tropicola sunset into a pandemonium of celebratory good times. As the staff in crisp red and white uniforms weave through the crowd with trays of complimentary drinks, you will know you have found your new Bali party home. This will become a signature memory of your stay at Tropicola with a sunset ritual you will long dream about. “Tropicola is a big, beautiful place from another time”, Says Manager/Partner Nicolaza, “Guests will feel the sunshine on their back, smell the coconut oil in the air and see the kaleidoscope of colour as they enjoy the sunset and reach for another tropicolada, one of our signature cocktails. It’s a paradise by the sea for everyone”. Tropicola: Coconut oil melting in the sun, the vivid blue water steps away, the blinding white outfits of the staff with languid hands on frozen drinks, the shellfish over the wood fire, laughter and splashing and chatter…Think James Bond circa 1965, shaken, not stirred. It must have existed in another time…and now it is here for you. Get there. Get there now.

Jl. Pantai Batu Belig No 5, Kerobokan Kelod, Kuta Utara, Seminyak, Kabupaten Badung, Bali 80361




undreds of young surfers from Bali, Java, Sumbawa, Malaysia, Australia and America dedcended on Halfway Kuta Beach, to compete in the 15th annual Rip Curl GromSearch. Competing in an exciting, safe and friendly competition the best Indonesian Surfers put their skills to the test against overseas competitors in all divisions, including Under 16’s, Under 14’s and under 12’s, with the addition of the Super Groms division (under 10 years old). Ryuki Waida and Summer Simon emerged victorious at the end of a huge weekend of

great performances. Beautiful Kuta beach Halfway offered competitors the perfect canvas to show their best skills with 3 to 4 foot peaks being served up all weekend long. Waida, who was on form all weekend, saved his best for last and scored an impressive 16.83 in the finals of the under 16’S Boys, surfing against Bronson Meidy, Made Joy and Tenshi Ishii, who all fought like tigers. “I’m so happy to get ticket to GromSearch International Final,” Said Waida, “To all my competitors, keep ripping!”

In the Girls Final Aussie Surfer, Summer Simon put together a dominant performance over Indonesia’s Lim Yu Yung. “The Indonesian girls were greatI was very happy to surf with them,” said Simon. With their victories, Ryuki and Lin have earned their tickets to represent Indonesia at the Rip Curl International Gromsearch, where the top performing under-16 surfers from around the globe will face off at a top-secret location to be announced early next year.

Rip Curl GromSearch 2018 Contest Results: Under 16 Boys Division: 1st. Ryuki Waida (Ind) 2nd. Made Joy (Ind) 3rd. Bronson Meidy (Ind) 4th. Tenshi Ishii (Ind)

Under 16 Girls Division: 1st. Summer Simon (Aus) 2nd. Lim Yu Yung/Iin (Ind) 3rd. Kayla Tani Martin (USA) 4th. Ketut Tia (Bali)

Under 14 Division: 1st. Made Dera (Ind) 2nd. Febri Anggriawan (Ind) 3rd. Taz Simon (Aus) 4th. Made Arya Sugawa Nesa (Ind)

Under 12 Division: 1st. Western Hirst (Ind) 2nd. Teddy Bille (Ind) 3rd. Surya Ratif (Ind) 4th. Philip Duke (Ind)

Under 10 Division: 1st. Kahea Isshiki (Ind) 2nd. Malu’a Hugon (Tahiti) 3rd. Anissa Rei Martin (China) 4th. Jesper Glossop (Ind)




he spookiest Friday at The Lawn Canggu was the talk of the island, weeks prior to and the days following. If you didn’t make it down, you missed out on a fun filled night with scariest outfits and an enormous show, the venue hosting their largest crowd to date. The headliner act was an Australian band Peking Duk, who performed an unforgettable show, there charisma and exhilarating vibes had the entire audience up on their feet dancing. Supporting act Benson, also from Australia finished the show with a bang! Other acts, Matter Mos and The Lawn Canggu resident DJs started the show to heat things up. Apart from the music, the spooky vibes were flowing through the entire venue, from decorations and hanging scarecrows, the hired acts were impressive and overly creepy. Perfect for Halloween! An impressive look at all the guests who dressed up and joined in the show, a special appearance from the local ‘go-jek’ driver, helmet and all! Best costume ever! Halloween at The Lawn Canggu is an annual event, one not to be missed if you’re in Bali, or travelling here during the month of October. Each year the excitement improves and the entertainment thickens.




ny festival that gathers people under the theme of youth Creativity is super alright in anybodies book. And this year’s Kuta Beach festival did just that. With perfect weather under both a shining sun and a glowing moon thousands of people of all ages enthusiastically took part of all the vents on offer. There was not shortage of them either. This year had a full schedule with no stop action for days. The food festival was a hit with hundreds lining up for the the best in Indonesian delicacies. The Babi Guling Warung sold out every

night and was no doubt accompanied by gallons of Bintang Beer. The fashion outlets were doing a brisk business and this year’s Kuta Beach Festival t-shirts were all gone by the second day. Impromptu fashion shows sprung up hourly and the grooviest new fashions were on parade as thousands of Indonesian and ex-pat youth flooded into the beachside venue. The peak of the music scene was a very special performance by Superman is Dead. Thousands of fans packed the beach for the band’s rip roaring ride

through all their hits. Playing a super long set for their fans, the band quit the stage exhausted after they played their entire song list. Daytime saw the crowning of a surfing Championship as local Ryuki Waida earned a spot in the prestigious Rip Curl Gromsearch international finals. Between Kite contests and the sunset runs and the skateboard dazzlers on the Volcom ramp, no stone was left unturned when it came to having a great time on the beach. We are already looking forward to next year. See you there.

FREE RIP CURL GIVEAWAY! I just wanted to say that the last cover of your magazine was really beautiful. What a dream setup. I don’t suppose you guys could give a poor traveler like me the GPS coordinates? Otherwise I will just have to guess, and you know the kind of trouble that can get you in. Much appreciated, Rodrigo from Brazil Rodrigo, Nice try, but Surftime Magazine has always had a policy of no tell. Photographer Liquid Barrel is also proud of his discoveries and leaves it up to the seeker to discover for ones self. Surftime wishes you luck. Please accept this prize package from RIP CURL to help you on your way.


Jabodetabek: PT.Gagan Indonesia (Ipanema), PT.Sukses Sinar Abadi (NIXON), PT.Exhibition Network Indonesia, PT. Indonesia AirAsia, PT.Harindotama Mandiri (OP & Redsand), Pola Grade, PT.Coca - Cola Distribution Indonesia, BEAM GLOBAL ASIA PTE LTD, PT. Amerta Indah Otsuka (Pocari Sweat), Point Break Bekasi, Point Break Blok M, Point Break Kelapa Gading, Point Break Serang, Point Break Taman Anggrek,Djournal Cilandak town square, J.co Cilandak town square, Brew&co Cilandak Town Square, Kopiluwak Cilandak Town Square, Tapas movida Cilandak Town Square, Excelco Cilandak Town Square, Starbuck Cilandak Town Square, Hagendaz Cilandak Town Square, My Kopi Cilandak Town Square, Conouseour Cilandak Town Square, Liberica Cilandak Town Square, The Coffe Bean Cilandak Town Square, Malay Village Cilandak Town Square, Mangkok putih Cilandak Town Square, Fish&co Cilandak Town Square, Hatten wines Kemang, Coffe corner Kemang, Largo bistro Kemang, Beergarden Kemang, Moe’s place Kemang, The coffe bean Kemang, Kopi seruput Kemang, Chiken chon Kemang, Esia café Kemang, Anomali café Kemang, Signature café Kemang, Café mondo Kemang, Koi Kemang, VIN + Kemang, JCO Kemang, Casa Kemang, Takigawa Kemang, Starbuck Kemang, Pizza marzano Kemang, Kedai kopi 89 Kemang, Daily bread Pondok Indah Mall 1, Kafe betawi Pondok Indah Mall 1, Regal coffe Pondok Indah Mall 1, The coffe bean Pondok Indah Mall 1, Chopstix Pondok Indah Mall 1, Out Back Pondok Indah Mall 1, Starbuck coffee Pondok Indah Mall 1, J.Co Pondok Indah Mall 1, Teritorri Pondok Indah Mall 1, Fatburger Pondok Indah Mall 1, Soursally Pondok Indah Mall 1, Taichan Pondok


Indah Mall 2, Regal coffe Pondok Indah Mall 2, jitllada Pondok Indah Mall 2, Takigawa Pondok Indah Mall 2, Bakerzin Pondok Indah Mall 2, Hanei Pondok Indah Mall 2, Din tai fung Pondok Indah Mall 2, Shabu tei Pondok Indah Mall 2, The Café Cartel Pondok Indah Mall 2, Radja Ketjil Pondok Indah Mall 2, Fish & co Pondok Indah Mall 2, Suntiang Pondok Indah Mall 2, Coldstone Pondok Indah Mall 2, Seruput Pondok Indah Mall 2, Opasuki Pondok Indah Mall 2, Sushi tei Pondok Indah Mall 2, Pizza marzano Pondok Indah Mall 2, Dellifrance Pondok Indah Mall 2, Victoria caffe Pondok Indah Mall 2, The coffe bean Pondok Indah Mall 2, Krispy kreme Pondok Indah Mall 2, Red bean Pondok Indah Mall 1, Hagen daz Pondok Indah Mall 2, Kenny Roger Roasters Pondok Indah Mall 2, Killiney Kopitiam Grand Indonesia, Sushi Tei Grand Indonesia, Kopi Luwak Grand Indonesia, Kenny Roger Roasters Grand Indonesia, Kafe Betawi Grand Indonesia, Fish & co Grand Indonesia, Cali Deli Grand Indonesia, Pizza Marzano Grand Indonesia, Starbuck Coffe Grand Indonesia, Burger King Grand Indonesia, Krispy Kreme Grand Indonesia, The Coffe Bean Grand Indonesia Lt. 1, Hagen Daz Grand Indonesia, Takigawa Grand Indonesia, Djournal Grand Indonesia, Sushi Tei Plaza Indonesia, Starbuck Plaza Indonesia, The Coffee Bean Plaza Indonesia, Segafredo Plaza Indonesia, Shabu-shabu house Plaza Indonesia, Opus café Plaza Indonesia, Chopstix Plaza Indonesia, Kitchenette Plaza Indonesia, Bakerzin Plaza Indonesia, Kopi Luwak Plaza Indonesia, Red tomato Plaza Indonesia, Fatburger Plaza Indonesia, Kafe Betawi Plaza Indonesia, Yakun Kaya Toast Plaza Indonesia, Bistro baron Plaza Indonesia. Jawa Barat: Point Break Bandung Super Mall, Heaven Skateboard, Asep Kusdinar

Pangandaran. Jawa Timur: Point Break World Tunjungan Plaza II. Jawa Tengah dan DIY Jogyakarta: Point Break Hartono.


Point Break World Banjarmasin, Point Break Pentacity Mall.


Point Break World Panakkukang, Point Break Gorontalo, Point Break Palopo, Point Break Tantura Palu.


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Royal Surf Mataram, Senggigi, Billabong Gili Trawangan, Blue Surf Gili Trawangan, Hurley Gili Trawangan, Sumbawa (Pesawat Trans Nusa DPSDompu, Lakey), Sempiak Vila Selong Belanak, Lombok.


Kuta: Alam Kul-Kul Hotel, Back Door, Balcony Rest & Bar, Huffian, Bali Learn To Surf, Billabong Kuta Square, Bliss Wayan Hotel, Blue Groove, Blue Ocean Shop, Blue Panic I, Blue Panic II, Dragon Office, Dragon Shop, Eikon Bar, G-Land, Halfway Surf, Hard Rock

Café, Hard Rock Radio, Hot Banana, Hurley Kuta Square, Hurley Poppies Lane II, Indodream, Hurley Factory Outlet Simpang Siur, Naruki, Oddyseys Surfing School, Ovault Legian, Papaya Surf, Pro Surf School, PT.Billabong Indonesia Office, Quiksilver Beachwalk, Quiksilver Kuta Square, Quiksilver Premium, Ripcurl Bemo Corner, Ripcurl Kuta Square, Rip Curl Memo, Star Surf, Sunkissed, Surfer Girl, Surfer Girl Office, Surfer Girl PODS, The Pit, Toke, Tubes Bar, Volcom Bemo Corner, Volcom Kuta Square, Yayasan GUS, Bali Niksoma Hotel, BSO, Cozy, Hurley Factory Outlet, Istana Rama Hotel, Kuta Seaview Hotel, Luke Studer Shop, Mercure Hotel, Nero Bali, OZ Radio, POP Hotel, PT.Jarosite (Rip Curl), PT.Sinar Sosro, PT. Transnusa Air Services (TransNusa), Ramayana Hotel, Rip Curl OSO, Rip Curl Sunset Road, Rosso Vivo, Ryosi Restaurant, Starbuck Café Pantai, Take Restaurant, The 101 Legian Hotel, The Stones, TJ’s Restaurant, VI AI PI, Hotel Santika, Blue Wave, Trans Nusa. Tuban: Aston Kuta, Bali Dynasty Hotel, Bamboo Restaurant, Batan Waru Restaurant, Billabong Discovery Mall, Blue Fin, Bubba Gum, Ryoshi, Discovery Hotel, Envy Restaurant, Golden Lotus, Hacienda Restaurant, Holiday Inn Resort, Hurley Discovery Mall, Kuta Lines Discovery Mall, Kuta Paradiso Hotel, Magani Hotel, PT. Volcom Indonesia Office, Quiksilver Discovery Mall, Ramada Bintang Bali, Risata Bali Resort. Legian: Dahui, All Season Hotel, Camankila Hotel, Cibola, Huck Happy Store, Hurley Legian, Jayakarta Hotel,Legian Beach Hotel, Macaroni Bar Bar & Restautant, Ovault Beachwalk, Poco Loco Bar & Rest, PT.Jaya Bersama (Rip Curl Surf School), PT.Quiksilver

Indonesia, Quiksilver Café, Quiksilver Legian, Ripcurl Legian, Ripcurl Melasti, Sky Surf, SWICH Restaurant, Tanaya Bed and Breakfast, The Bokha Hotel, The Granmas Hotel Jl. Legian, Trattoria, Zanzibar Restaurant, Bali Mandira Hotel. Seminyak, Oberoi, Petitenget: Afends, Anantara Seminyak Resort & Spa, Biku Restaurant, Billabong Bintang, Billabong Seminyak, Canggu Deli, Channel Islands, Cocoon Restaurant, DC Seminyak Square, Deus Oberoi, Deus Petitenget, Drifter Shop, Fave Hotel, Hurley Indonesia, Hurley Oberoi, Insight Seminyak, IZE Hotel, LacaLaca Restaurant, Lanai Restaurant, Made’s Warung Seminyak, Mannekepis Restaurant, Meja Kitchen & Bar, Motel Mexicola Restaurant, Oakley Seminyak, Volcom Shop, Petitenget Restaurant, Potato Head, Puravida Seminyak, Quiksilver Bintang, RVCA Oberoi, Quiksilver Petitenget, Red Carpet, Rip Curl Bintang, Rip Curl Seminyak, Rumors Restaurant, Ryosi Restaurant, Single FIN Seminyak, SOHO Restaurant, Surfer Girl Seminyak Square, Tekor Bali Restaurant, The Grandmas Hotel Dyana Pura, The Haven Hotel, Betelnut Restaurant, Black Canyon Seminyak Square, By The Sea Shop, Chandi Restaurant, Dylon Long Bottom, Eat Well Restaurant, Queens Tandor Restaurant, Taco Casa, Miyura Restaurant, Kinky Tiki Bar. Nusa Dua: Nusa Dua Beach Grill, PT.Bali Bijaksana (Oakley) Office, Ovault Nusa Dua. Uluwatu, Jimbaran: Surfer Paradise Kelan, Drifter Office, Hansel Surfboards, Quiksilver Uluwatu, Single Fin Shop, Single Fin Restaurant, Warung Ketty, Warung Lana, White Monkey, Surf Edge/ Uluwatu Café, Noh by Pison, Nusa Surf, Loko Shop. Secret Spot Jimbaran.

Sanur, Denpasar: Bali Adventure Tours, Bali Hai Cruise, Batu Jimbar Restaurant, BIMC Hospital, Bir Bintang, Bounty Cruise, Coca-Cola Distribution Bali, CV.Royalindo Pacific (No Fear), G-Xtreme, International SOS, Yoska Surf, Kopi Bali, Ombak Shop, PT. Planet Selancar Mandiri, Red Bull, Rip Curl Sanur, Starbuck Café Sanur, Tiket To the Moon, Tiara Dewata, Soputan, Tiara Dewata Denpasar, Tiara Dewata Monang-Maning, Tiara Dewata Gatsu, Toko Buku Leny, Kios Rama, Bali Scuba, Ocean Gravity (Bali Diving School), Nova Dive Center, All 4 Diving, Billabong. Canggu: Billabong Batu Bolong, Billabong Canggu, Café di Batu Bolong, Café di Echo Beach, Deus Canggu, Hurley Brawa, PT.Deus Ex Machina Indonesia Office, Quiksilver Canggu / Echo Beach, REDZ Surf Boards, Reef Canggu, Seven Shores / 69 Slam, Oldmans Restaurant & Bar, The Lawn. Balianas shop, Canggu Deli, Swich Brawa, Drifter Shop, Brawa Surf Shop, Matcha Cafe Brawa, Nude Cafe Brawa, Onboard Store Batu Bolong, Echo Beach Club Canggu. Secret Spot Brawa, Vissla Jl Batu Mejan, Parachute Tibubeneng, Mahalo. Gianyar: Bali Zoo, Komune Hotel, Bali Safari & Marine Park, SOBEK Lembongan : Billabong Lembongan


Carkit Agent (Far East ) Pte Ltd.


Media Partner ASC (Asian Surfing Championship)


Remembrance: The Iron Cross


t 0735 on December 19, 1994 at Maverick’s off Half Moon Bay, California, a just Sixteen-year-old Jay Moriarity paddled into surfing history. Hung up at take-off by ferocious offshore winds, he Dropped 35 feet from the lip of a Maverick’s monster into the dark turmoil of a hurricane like trough and was pile drived hard off the deep water reef. It horrified what was then only a small group of Mavericks surfers who watched on helplessly and waited for Jay to break the surface. Jet ski teams and safety vests had yet to make it into the Mavericks line-up. Two waves later, Jay surfaced, retrieved his board and paddled back out to take his place in the line-up. A real fighter. Even at 13 years old, a cheerful child, he still had a reputation as a fighter. A boy who once took on a grown man that was yelling at his mother in the front yard. And by the time they broke up the fight, Jay was on top. Jay apparently did not know the meaning of giving up. This famous wipe-out before you landed him numerous magazine covers and international attention including a spread in National Geographic magazine. It became the only time in history that a wipe-out established a surfer as a fixture of the big-wave surfing scene and asserted a surfer as a Maverick’s authority in the process. This was six years before Laird Hamilton’s “Millennial” wave at Teahupoo would begin the otherworldly carnage in Tahiti. You would think that Jay’s Mavericks wipe-out would be a cautionary tale, but in fact it started a cold water land rush to Mavericks with hundreds of surfers seeking fame and fortune off the cliffs of Half moon Bay. Just four days after Jay’s infamous wipeout, Hawaiian Mark Foo would lose his life at the exact same spot on the reef. On the afternoon of June 15th, 2001, a day before his 23rd birthday, Jay Moriarity was freediving alone, practicing deep dives in the clear waters of the Maldives islands. He was found on the bottom some time later at 24 meters. The diver who found him recounts: “When I first saw his shadowy outline, it was like an apparition, as though I was viewing some gladiator-like statue that had fallen over. He was lying face down in the sand with his head tilted to one side and his mask and snorkel firmly in place. His legs were spread apart, like he was balancing to do push-ups and his arms were bent at the elbows and tucked under his body. His fists were clenched and fingers closed tight, like he was bracing himself for some sort of onslaught. He was wearing only his board shorts, a watch and his wedding ring. His back muscles rippled in the dappled light. That dying image was one of strength and determination, not confusion and panic, as one may have expected in his final moments.” But despite his passing, Jay Moriarity’s aspirations and commitments to conquering the heaviest waves in the world had a powerful influence on a generation of big wave pioneers who have, in turn, given the sport of big wave surfing the gravitas it maintains today. Surftime offers a pause here to recognize that surfing has heroes that rival any of mythology. And a reminder that we are all part of those who have come before.






Photography by Ike