Takeoff...err, Teqoph

Prominent surfboard shapers and designers narrate over a slide show of their products and materials, offices and factories, shaping rooms (the "bays") and glassing rooms, etc, in Surfline's "Shaper's Bay" series, as they discuss their history, technique, clientele, and future plans. Shaper's Bay has galvanized a new audience for legendary shapers who have been around for years, like Al Merrick, Dick Brewer, and Rusty Preisendorfer.

Bill Johnson, founder of Teqoph (phonetically: take-off) Surfboards, has had his work showcased by Surfline. Johnson's two most popular riders are brothers C.J. and Damien Hobgood. The 'Goods are two of the best surfers on the competitive scene today: C.J. was 2001 WCT champ, and Damo's won his share of events, including the 2008 Billabong Pro Tahiti at Teahupoo. (Dane beat Jordy there, see earlier "Fishcuits and Gravy" post). Together, these three dudes possess an impressive background and reputation in the surf world.

Today, after scrolling through February's older posts over at the Hobgoods' blog, I found this short video of Johnson in his bay shaping a full board (fin placement and glass job not included). It's unclear to whom this particular board now belongs (likely one of the surfing siblings). The high-speed playback demonstrates each step these master craftsmen take in the shaping room, a process lengthened by a thousand details. Needless to say, there's a lot more work that goes on before and after. But for pure, unadulterated shaping porn, Bill Johnson's segment is worth the three-minutes.

**Be sure to fully consume the music. The artist is Josh Garrels, a singer/songwriter who extracts complex sounds from simple instruments. Thanks, again, to Surfline for this guy; it was in another clip in 2006 that I first learned about Josh Garrels...been listening ever since.

Fishcuits and gravy

For the unfamiliar, Dane Reynolds is in his early twenties and lives in Ventura—a northern suburb of southern California. Reynolds is a pro surfer whose days as a grom (jargon for "young surfers") were funded by world travel, scoreing great waves and clips for surfing videos, including the “Young Guns” trilogy put out by his main sponsor, Quiksilver. He was hailed as the next great thing, seen as leading the avant-garde in surfing that made big airs (tricks that use the wave face as a launching ramp) a requirement for any legit surfer’s evolving trick stash. (This was in the early to mid-2000s when “pushing the envelope” was the popular, and cliché, euphemism often employed to depict Reynolds’s style.) Expectations were heightened after Kelly Slater lauded Reynolds after the two traveled and surfed together for Quiksilver.

Reynolds’s aggressive wave riding brought plenty of attention, highlighting the contrast between his out-of-the-water personality. Appearing somewhat shy, almost to the point of awkward, during some video interviews on surfing sits, Reynolds voiced his ambivalence towards competitive pro surfing. Like most sports, surfing’s contending schools of thought pit free-surfing against competition—the former viewed as a soulful, “for the love of it” lifestyle, the latter commercially driven. Dane was regularly asked how he reconciled these two different approaches. Unsure how or where his self-proclaimed absence of competitiveness would fit into the World Championship Tour (WCT), he seemed conflicted, repeatedly denying finding any joy in beating opponents, instead claiming to extract inspiration from their surfing rather than from winning. But Reynolds began competing anyway. Was it a career move bred from a new competitive motivation in its primitive stages?

Reynolds—and his much hyped, industry manufactured rival, South African Jordy Smith—invested hundreds of hours and thousands of miles traveling to surfing contests across the world in the World Qualifying Series, the WCT’s minor league. The WQS's top 15 each year earn a spot on the WCT, replacing the bottom half of the Tour’s 45 annual competitors and forcing them to requalify for the next year. It was an unremarkable year for both surfers as they adapted to the lifestyle, the increased talent level, and dealt with injuries and mystery illnesses. Neither matched Bobby Martinez’s 2006 success when he won two events. Although Reynolds, like Martinez, took home 2008 Rookie of the Year after finishing ranked twenty-second, despite not participating in all eleven contests. (Reynolds thumped Smith in thier first heat against each other in tiny surf at Teahupoo, Tahiti.)

Towards the end of last year, Reynolds boosted an insanely high air at a beach break in France, landing awkwardly, busting his ankle. (See above about not making all eleven contests.) An injury, in fact, prompting Dane to lament the end of his air-boosting days. (The permanence of which remains to be seen.) So, he rehabbed over the winter and, although residual pain lingers—Reynolds told Surfing magazine, “I can’t believe it’s been four months and it’s still fucked”—has been preparing for the season-opening event at Snapper Rocks on the Aussie Goldcoast at home in Ventura and north at Rincon, in Santa Barbara, a dreamy pointbreak that unravels atop a few hundred yards of cobble stone ocean bottom that resembles the wave at Snapper. Which brings us to the video segment.

This is a clip of Reynolds surfing his local spot in Ventura on a pretty small, but clean day (judging by the lighting, it’s probably mid- to late-morning) riding a Channel Islands (board maker) "Fishcuit" (model). The board, designed by CI in the last two years, is a fish/thruster hybrid—two boards surfed in varying wave types. A thruster is the pointed-nose shape, usually with three fins, used by almost every competitive surfer; they can range anywhere from short in the five-foot range to upwards of 6’5”-8” depending on the characteristics of a particular wave. Ideal in smaller surf because they cover more area, Fishes supplement a lack of wave power with greater buoyancy. But fishes aren’t merely small-wave specific. Says the CI Web site, the plank is fit for "knee-high to head and a half" surf.

It’s not certain Reynolds's Fishcuit will carve over tradition this season. Taj Burrow was one of the early wanderers, keeping with the basic thruster shape but switching to boards produced by Firewire that use newer, more durable materials than conventional fiber-glassed foam boards. Much of the surf media has been chirping at the metamorphisizing of the pros' board collections (or "quiver"). Of course, had Kelly Slater not won the Pipe Masters, or spent a month training at Rincon, on boards he's shaped that deviate from the conventional thruster template, the discourse might have veered elsewhere. However, it’s odd that a pro surfer would train on a board that he didn’t plan on riding so close to an event; Reynolds is at least considering paddling it out. Here he is cruising on his Fishcuit with fitting tunes, at his home spot, clearly where he’s most comfortable. We’ll see if Reynolds’s tender ankle and his board choices bring about success on the 2009 World Championship Tour.

In the meantime, be captivated by the smooth style of a person riding liquified energy.

Travel time: Italia y Espana

Being a writer is a lot like playing the guitar. For years upon years, countless guitarists have lauded the creative benefits of taking a playing sabbatical. When a musician’s ears hear his fingers playing the same tired phrases, chords, songs, etc, it’s time to step away so creativity can restore itself. David Gilmour of Pink Floyd was the first guitarist I’d heard of who set his instrument down, for months at a time, to stifle the repetitiveness in his playing, and John Mayer the most recent. Wordsmiths can reap a similar benefit by capping the pen or closing a laptop.

So, after pitching a handful of ideas in hopes of getting paid to write about the trip I took to Spain and Italy last week, and not finding any accepting editors, I stepped away from the words. I decided to enjoy the trip for what is was and not find anything especially poignant to write about (a choice made easier by the rapidity of visiting two countries in seven days). But a note of such a fun trip had to be made—ripe with a revisit of Venezia (Venice) and virgin exploration of Barcelona.

I’ll keep it brief.

Venice:

We water taxied—about a 40 minute ride from the airport to town—to our lodging, the Centro Culturale Don Orione Artigianelli Religious Guest House, a contemporarily updated monastery now employed as a lodge on the southwest edge of Venice. Pope Giovanni Paolo II (JP2) proclaimed the namesake, born Luigi Orione, a saint on May 16, 2004. (After learning of his death in March 1940, Pop Pius XII called Orione “the father of the poor and eminent benefactor of suffering and abandoned humanity.” Sounds like a good guy.) The staff was very cool and free of Catholic proselytizing; they even spoke moderate English. San Marco and Rialto are both within 15 minutes by foot.

Days were spent shopping (which happens when you’re with fashionistic ladies) and taking in all of the Carnavale events. Masks, knickers, wigs, and more masks. It’s quite a sight. If you’re there during the three-week event preceding Ash Wednesday (signifying the Lenten fasting season), be sure to check out some of the mask makers. It’s a very detailed and skillful trade that’s unique to Venice. Oh, and eat…a lot. It’s Italy; there is no shortage of incredible dining (or carbs). Besides, there are no roads; you have no alternative but to walk it off.

Barcelona:

September 11th carries a different and historically steeped significance in northern Spain. Barcelonans commemorate Catalan Independence—a reverse of July 4th, the date signifies the day they lost their freedom and were absorbed by Spain. A short shot of history.


Contemporary, historic, fast, easy, warm, and comprised of some Earth’s most beautiful women: Barcelona. We stayed in the quaint Hotel Sant Agusti, just a block off of Passeig de La Rambla, the main stretch of tourism in the city’s downtown. If you’re in the mood for young, African prostitutes, shitty paella, and Irish Car Bomb shots, then La Rambla is your place. But the city is filled with historic nooks and contemporary crannies—a city that celebrates its roots, but hasn’t allowed them to strangle any advances towards modernity. The subway is only difficult for idiots. Cabbies are generally friendly and not overly expensive. Catalans would rather be shot than call themselves Spanish. All the signs and menus are posted in Catalan, Spanish, and English. Eat paella and drink Sangria…often and far from La Rambla. La Sagrada Familia is epic, if weirdly surrounded by apartment buildings. The Anelia Olympica was built before the 1992 summer games. It’s a liberal city—boozehounds stumble along the sidewalks crop-dusting bystanders in plumes of pot smoke; there is no “Second Amendment”; and cars have the value taxed right out of them. The weather is fantastic; Barcelona is a European San Diego with shittier waves but a convivial pedestrian spirit.

Just amazing.

Go. Now. Just come back before I denounce my U.S. citizenship and start speaking Catalan. And before you go, sign up for one of the tours offered by Spanish Trails Day Tours. We spent a day horseback riding through Catalonia country with Charles, our guide, and Pau, the rancher—by far, two of the coolest dudes I have ever met.