It’s definitely NOT for lack of trying that white people can’t dance. I know that’s a blanket statement, but I’m speaking about the average Jack and Jill who boogie once a month. Or just for myself. Of course there are exceptions.
Bosses across PE must be cursing today.
I’m pretty sure more than half the province was at Goldfish last night, dancing shamelessly till the wee hours of the morning. That’s what I’m telling myself to feel better. I was squeaking my hooves like a maniac last night and it feels like I ran the Knysna Marathon in my sleep. I woke up and thought my alarm clock was joking. “7 O Clock” I said out loud, “get the hell out of here.”
Thank goodness its flat, else I would have been a livid to give surfing a skip on such a beautiful day. My legs are too pooped to do anything physical. I checked out the weather report and things look great for beach goers this weekend. That is if you like building sand castles, playing touch rugby or braaing with the buggers. There is absolutely no swell. It’s quite amazing, actually. The ocean is bordering on lake status. It could be different towards East London, but as far as PE is concerned it’s a lake out there.
I keep wondering why my ‘flat day apathy’ doesn’t force me to invest in a longboard. You can surf anything on one of those. I would definitely surf more, no doubt. And maybe it would do something for my dancing form?
Friday, October 31, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Murhy's Calling
Everyone is busy at the moment. Everyone. My friends at varsity have exams to prepare for. My friends with real jobs are working over-time for their Christmas bonuses. My friends who don’t work or go to varsity have anarchist ventures to explore. Or they’re still waiting for their parents to give them petrol money.
Even Maximus was up at 5 this morning, digging important holes and repee-ing his scent around the garden. When I called him for a walk, he just barked on about the recession and a merciless Bullmastiff that keeps pinching loaves near the gate.
It’s a pity the South Easterly is still pumping, because I would have had the bay all to myself if there were waves. But the swell is building in this wind, so after it changes to South West tonight there should be decent waves. Hopefully everyone will still be too busy then.
WCT NEWS
The Hang Loose Pro (Brazil) started yesterday. It’s the second last stop on the World Championship Tour; surfers looking to drop their worst results will be putting in exceptional effort. Jordy Smith (Durban) had an outstanding first round, getting the highest heat score total of the event so far, but was given two interference calls near the end of the heat! An unfortunate tactical boo boo on his part. Jordy and the other Saffas will be in round 2 as soon as competition resumes. http://www.aspworldtour.com/ has all the news and links for the Hang Loose Pro.
Even Maximus was up at 5 this morning, digging important holes and repee-ing his scent around the garden. When I called him for a walk, he just barked on about the recession and a merciless Bullmastiff that keeps pinching loaves near the gate.
It’s a pity the South Easterly is still pumping, because I would have had the bay all to myself if there were waves. But the swell is building in this wind, so after it changes to South West tonight there should be decent waves. Hopefully everyone will still be too busy then.
WCT NEWS
The Hang Loose Pro (Brazil) started yesterday. It’s the second last stop on the World Championship Tour; surfers looking to drop their worst results will be putting in exceptional effort. Jordy Smith (Durban) had an outstanding first round, getting the highest heat score total of the event so far, but was given two interference calls near the end of the heat! An unfortunate tactical boo boo on his part. Jordy and the other Saffas will be in round 2 as soon as competition resumes. http://www.aspworldtour.com/ has all the news and links for the Hang Loose Pro.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Billabong Junior Series
If anyone is interested, event #5 of the Billabong Junior Series will be on Supersport 1 at 7PM tonight. That's the Jbay stop, where the waves were cranking until day 3.
The Life and Times of Marlowe Truman Sorenson (aka. Speedy)
When guys are between 3 and 7 years old, there are two things that significantly affect your social standing
1. How fast you can run.
2. How strong your dad is.
The play ground is like a small city. Kids are territorial. The Jungle Gym, for example, is an apparatus in high demand. Some fresh faced 3 and a half year old can’t just step out of the car pool and sommer swing from the high bars. You’ve got to earn your stripes. Tell the older guys a bit about your old man and then do a few laps around the yard. Show them you mean business.
The sand pit is another one. You can’t just rock up one day and hang with those artistic elitists in the big pit. You’ve got to work you way up. Shine during play dough class (call the teacher over and make her show the class your work), carry a bucket and spade for the older kids once in a while. In time you’ll be making sand castles with the big dogs. Having a dad that can jump over the Campanile doesn’t hurt, either.
There were some tough cats back my day at Hillel Pre Primary School. Some tough cats indeed…
Willy Lyon’s father could lift a building up in each hand AND balance a rhino on his nose at the same time. Impressive stuff. Lyon always got the best scooter during break time.
Bo Ferreira could throw snails over the school roof and swing higher than everyone. He always slept on the soft part of the carpet near the teacher during naps.
There was one child so fast he was nicknamed ‘Speedy’. That’s hardly a creative masterpiece, but it was given to him by his 4 year old class mates— Monkey’s Crazy Hotel and cartoons were the only frame of reference we had to work with. Speedy’s dad, a mechanic named Moses, could run faster than a red ninja (the fastest of all ninjas) and wrestled buffalo on weekends to make biltong. I’ve heard rumors about Moses running at twice the speed of sound on a full tummy; if Speedy’s pace was anything to go by, I’d put a pink note down saying its legit.
Speedy was born with a cows lick in his hair and started shaving at 2. By the time he got to the middle class in Pre- Primary, Speedy was sporting a goatee like AJ from the Backstreet Boys.
He is the only child in history to avoid being ‘stuck’, during Stuck In The Mud for two years straight. He was playing wing for the rugby club side all the maintenance guys played for by 5 and a half. One child’s mother even asked Speedy out on a date.
Given Speedy’s credentials, it came as no surprise that he was the most popular boy at Hillel. But things were about to get tougher for Speedy at Big School.
He was quickly pulled out of the Smarties and Peppermint Rugby League during Sub A. “That boy has legs like cheetah and a deranged kudu!” exclaimed the head master, after Speedy scored 103 tries during his first game for the peppermints. After 4 months Speedy was captain of the Under 13 A’s, leading his team to victory against schools like Selborne, Grey Bloem and Dale College. It was a great day for Speedy’s coach when the nine year old tackled Grey Bloem’s prop so hard that he left the field crying. I remember a significant change in Speedy after that. You could se he resented all the demands on him and was starting to play angrily.
The stress of such early stardom seemed to build. By the end of Sub B Speedy developed an attitude. He was getting aggressive with scholars and teachers alike. The pressure of being so quick and having a dad as cool as Moses weighed heavily on Speedy’s shoulders. The December Holiday’s of 1991 couldn’t come quick enough for him.
It was not until the month of January, 1992, that I witnessed the fall and rebirth of Speedy.
He mastered Phys-ed with ease during the past two years, winning games like Stingers and Shipwreck with natural ease. And when the time came for swimming trials, everyone expected Speedy to basically run on water.
But Speedy hung back and stood awkwardly near the water’s edge. Locks of chest and back hair hung from his body like a poncho. There was a look of sick terror in his eyes as he made his way onto the diving block.
When the ‘Go’ whistle blew, Speedy flopped into the water and thrashed about hopelessly. A strange yelping came from his slow moving trail of bubbles, which sounded similar to a dog having its tailed clipped. Coach Cramer dropped his clipboard and dived in to save the prized sportsman, lest he should be responsible for anything bad happening to Speedy.
But when Cramer lifted Speedy out the water, the young boy was laughing heartily. No one had seen him smile or laugh like that before.
***
I saw Speedy last week when I was in Jo burg. He coaches a junior school swimming team and lives in the hostel on campus. He is a happy guy today, married with 2 kids of his own. Speedy tells me his13 month old son can run the hundred in 10, 05 already. Thanks to modern medicine and laser treatment Speedy only shaves twice a day and leads a pretty normal life, otherwise.
Speedy never touched a rugby ball again. He went on to swim for E Team right through Junior School, and never progressed passed the 3rd team in high school.
It was strange and ironic that he chose to pursue a career coaching a sport he was so horrible at, when Speedy could have captained the Boke by standard 5. I guess you can’t laugh at anything you don’t enjoy.
***
The waves are Terrible today! Mximus and I walked along the beach this morning and checked out the spots up the coast. Its tiny everywhere. That’s why I took 2 hours to recount the story of my friend Speedy. The wind is south easterly, too, and only getting stronger. But its sunny outside, so you might be able to catch a few decent cold ones at Barney’s a bit later.
1. How fast you can run.
2. How strong your dad is.
The play ground is like a small city. Kids are territorial. The Jungle Gym, for example, is an apparatus in high demand. Some fresh faced 3 and a half year old can’t just step out of the car pool and sommer swing from the high bars. You’ve got to earn your stripes. Tell the older guys a bit about your old man and then do a few laps around the yard. Show them you mean business.
The sand pit is another one. You can’t just rock up one day and hang with those artistic elitists in the big pit. You’ve got to work you way up. Shine during play dough class (call the teacher over and make her show the class your work), carry a bucket and spade for the older kids once in a while. In time you’ll be making sand castles with the big dogs. Having a dad that can jump over the Campanile doesn’t hurt, either.
There were some tough cats back my day at Hillel Pre Primary School. Some tough cats indeed…
Willy Lyon’s father could lift a building up in each hand AND balance a rhino on his nose at the same time. Impressive stuff. Lyon always got the best scooter during break time.
Bo Ferreira could throw snails over the school roof and swing higher than everyone. He always slept on the soft part of the carpet near the teacher during naps.
There was one child so fast he was nicknamed ‘Speedy’. That’s hardly a creative masterpiece, but it was given to him by his 4 year old class mates— Monkey’s Crazy Hotel and cartoons were the only frame of reference we had to work with. Speedy’s dad, a mechanic named Moses, could run faster than a red ninja (the fastest of all ninjas) and wrestled buffalo on weekends to make biltong. I’ve heard rumors about Moses running at twice the speed of sound on a full tummy; if Speedy’s pace was anything to go by, I’d put a pink note down saying its legit.
Speedy was born with a cows lick in his hair and started shaving at 2. By the time he got to the middle class in Pre- Primary, Speedy was sporting a goatee like AJ from the Backstreet Boys.
He is the only child in history to avoid being ‘stuck’, during Stuck In The Mud for two years straight. He was playing wing for the rugby club side all the maintenance guys played for by 5 and a half. One child’s mother even asked Speedy out on a date.
Given Speedy’s credentials, it came as no surprise that he was the most popular boy at Hillel. But things were about to get tougher for Speedy at Big School.
He was quickly pulled out of the Smarties and Peppermint Rugby League during Sub A. “That boy has legs like cheetah and a deranged kudu!” exclaimed the head master, after Speedy scored 103 tries during his first game for the peppermints. After 4 months Speedy was captain of the Under 13 A’s, leading his team to victory against schools like Selborne, Grey Bloem and Dale College. It was a great day for Speedy’s coach when the nine year old tackled Grey Bloem’s prop so hard that he left the field crying. I remember a significant change in Speedy after that. You could se he resented all the demands on him and was starting to play angrily.
The stress of such early stardom seemed to build. By the end of Sub B Speedy developed an attitude. He was getting aggressive with scholars and teachers alike. The pressure of being so quick and having a dad as cool as Moses weighed heavily on Speedy’s shoulders. The December Holiday’s of 1991 couldn’t come quick enough for him.
It was not until the month of January, 1992, that I witnessed the fall and rebirth of Speedy.
He mastered Phys-ed with ease during the past two years, winning games like Stingers and Shipwreck with natural ease. And when the time came for swimming trials, everyone expected Speedy to basically run on water.
But Speedy hung back and stood awkwardly near the water’s edge. Locks of chest and back hair hung from his body like a poncho. There was a look of sick terror in his eyes as he made his way onto the diving block.
When the ‘Go’ whistle blew, Speedy flopped into the water and thrashed about hopelessly. A strange yelping came from his slow moving trail of bubbles, which sounded similar to a dog having its tailed clipped. Coach Cramer dropped his clipboard and dived in to save the prized sportsman, lest he should be responsible for anything bad happening to Speedy.
But when Cramer lifted Speedy out the water, the young boy was laughing heartily. No one had seen him smile or laugh like that before.
***
I saw Speedy last week when I was in Jo burg. He coaches a junior school swimming team and lives in the hostel on campus. He is a happy guy today, married with 2 kids of his own. Speedy tells me his13 month old son can run the hundred in 10, 05 already. Thanks to modern medicine and laser treatment Speedy only shaves twice a day and leads a pretty normal life, otherwise.
Speedy never touched a rugby ball again. He went on to swim for E Team right through Junior School, and never progressed passed the 3rd team in high school.
It was strange and ironic that he chose to pursue a career coaching a sport he was so horrible at, when Speedy could have captained the Boke by standard 5. I guess you can’t laugh at anything you don’t enjoy.
***
The waves are Terrible today! Mximus and I walked along the beach this morning and checked out the spots up the coast. Its tiny everywhere. That’s why I took 2 hours to recount the story of my friend Speedy. The wind is south easterly, too, and only getting stronger. But its sunny outside, so you might be able to catch a few decent cold ones at Barney’s a bit later.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Wish I was There
There are lots of important people and events I’ll never see, simply because I was born too late or in the wrong place. Woodstock is a good example. I’m almost bitter I wasn’t around in ’69, somewhere close to New York, where I could have been watching The Who and Jimi Hendrix. Now I’ll never see them, because neither The Who nor Jimi are around to provide this service.
And why wasn’t I in PE during the seventies, when Millers used to break consistently from Bird Rock to Hobie Beach? I bet you the wind didn’t even blow so much back then. It’s not fair.
That’s why I’m building a time machine. True Story. I’ve talked this over with my friends a thousand times and have decided it’s the right thing to do. I just need to pick when and where.
There are a few factors to consider before I embark on this journey. Like how far back to go? It’s pointless getting beamed into the 17th or 18th century. That would be like going on a permanent holiday with my great parents to their house in the Karoo, where there’s no TV and endless chores to do. Forget it. I’d become a social pariah or get lynched if I went back there, too. All that colonizing in the name of religion isn’t my bag of potato chips. Whenever the preachers would say, “The End Is Nigh,” I’d probably open my mouth and be like, “Errr… sorry bucko. I’m afraid you’ll be tending those fields till the day your body turns to compost. You heard of roller blades yet?”
If I’m going to go back in time, I want to do it the right way. I’d want to see the pyramids being constructed, the Sistine Chapel being painted or Coliseum being used. Like a Contiki tour on steroids. While I’m there, I may as well do a bit of ground work for my family in the distant future. The first thing I’d do is host a sporting event no one has seen before. I was thinking of something like the Red Bull Down Hill Skating Contest, except everyone will be in donkey carts. Or I’d fashion Frisbees and pogo sticks, and then name them after my friends so they’d know I made it there ok.
I could also write a book or two and accurately predict the future, in almost perfect detail. Nostradamus will be hissing fire over his new competition.
Alternatively I could go back to the 60’s and 70’s, when traveling was easier than today’s visa fiasco. First, I would study electrical engineering before I left, ensuring my impossibly unfair advantage over the human race at large. Once I’m there I’d get rich quickly by inventing something cool, like mountain bikes. Then I would need to cover some important bases and make sure a few good people stay alive. Steve Biko and John Lennon, to begin with. I’d have to consult someone about political issues, so we could end apartheid and allow me to enjoy my journey with a clear conscience.
Then I’d sit back and do everything I want to do.
Bob Dylan would still be in his prime, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison would still be alive. Kurt Cobain would still be growing up, so I’d have Nirvana to look forward to. J-Bay would still be an untouched diamond in the rough, so I could surf perfect waves on retro boards with almost no one else out. I’d probably buy a chunk of land overlooking super tubes and move there. I would (hopefully) live to see my family, which is a major bonus.
It’s going to be a selfish Endeavour, this time travel mission I’m going on, but someone’s got to do it.
There was a bit of swell early this morning (Fence looked like there were signs of life), but the wind is sending trees trunks and toupees seawards now. Maybe on the full tide this afternoon, but its not looking positive right now.
There’s going to be a new contest format next year for the dream tour, with the ultimate goal of making a one tour for both WQS and WCT surfers (similar to the golf or Tennis pro tours). Its complicated stuff, but if you log on to http://www.aspworldtour.com/ all the details are there.
In WQS news, Rosanne Hodge, Greg Emslie (both from Slummies) and David Weare (Durban) are all looking good to qualify for next year’s WCT. All three surfers are sitting in the top ten, heading into the last leg of the tour (Hawaii).
And why wasn’t I in PE during the seventies, when Millers used to break consistently from Bird Rock to Hobie Beach? I bet you the wind didn’t even blow so much back then. It’s not fair.
That’s why I’m building a time machine. True Story. I’ve talked this over with my friends a thousand times and have decided it’s the right thing to do. I just need to pick when and where.
There are a few factors to consider before I embark on this journey. Like how far back to go? It’s pointless getting beamed into the 17th or 18th century. That would be like going on a permanent holiday with my great parents to their house in the Karoo, where there’s no TV and endless chores to do. Forget it. I’d become a social pariah or get lynched if I went back there, too. All that colonizing in the name of religion isn’t my bag of potato chips. Whenever the preachers would say, “The End Is Nigh,” I’d probably open my mouth and be like, “Errr… sorry bucko. I’m afraid you’ll be tending those fields till the day your body turns to compost. You heard of roller blades yet?”
If I’m going to go back in time, I want to do it the right way. I’d want to see the pyramids being constructed, the Sistine Chapel being painted or Coliseum being used. Like a Contiki tour on steroids. While I’m there, I may as well do a bit of ground work for my family in the distant future. The first thing I’d do is host a sporting event no one has seen before. I was thinking of something like the Red Bull Down Hill Skating Contest, except everyone will be in donkey carts. Or I’d fashion Frisbees and pogo sticks, and then name them after my friends so they’d know I made it there ok.
I could also write a book or two and accurately predict the future, in almost perfect detail. Nostradamus will be hissing fire over his new competition.
Alternatively I could go back to the 60’s and 70’s, when traveling was easier than today’s visa fiasco. First, I would study electrical engineering before I left, ensuring my impossibly unfair advantage over the human race at large. Once I’m there I’d get rich quickly by inventing something cool, like mountain bikes. Then I would need to cover some important bases and make sure a few good people stay alive. Steve Biko and John Lennon, to begin with. I’d have to consult someone about political issues, so we could end apartheid and allow me to enjoy my journey with a clear conscience.
Then I’d sit back and do everything I want to do.
Bob Dylan would still be in his prime, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison would still be alive. Kurt Cobain would still be growing up, so I’d have Nirvana to look forward to. J-Bay would still be an untouched diamond in the rough, so I could surf perfect waves on retro boards with almost no one else out. I’d probably buy a chunk of land overlooking super tubes and move there. I would (hopefully) live to see my family, which is a major bonus.
It’s going to be a selfish Endeavour, this time travel mission I’m going on, but someone’s got to do it.
There was a bit of swell early this morning (Fence looked like there were signs of life), but the wind is sending trees trunks and toupees seawards now. Maybe on the full tide this afternoon, but its not looking positive right now.
There’s going to be a new contest format next year for the dream tour, with the ultimate goal of making a one tour for both WQS and WCT surfers (similar to the golf or Tennis pro tours). Its complicated stuff, but if you log on to http://www.aspworldtour.com/ all the details are there.
In WQS news, Rosanne Hodge, Greg Emslie (both from Slummies) and David Weare (Durban) are all looking good to qualify for next year’s WCT. All three surfers are sitting in the top ten, heading into the last leg of the tour (Hawaii).
Friday, October 24, 2008
Dog Eared Yellowing News Paper Clippings
My mom has a thing for news paper clippings. She finds pieces she likes and posts them under insect fridge magnets made from wire and pretty beads. She pins and press sticks them to a few places around her home: notice boards, the back of toilet doors, and so on. Places for newspaper clippings. Places people will find them. Very thoughtful of her.
Press stuck to one such notice board next to her computer is a (yellowing) one by Hagen Engler from his Weekend Surf column titled “Hey! That greatest guy in the world is from PE!”. It starts as follows: “There’s a game played by natives of Nelson Mandela Bay that is as old as the ancient granite cliffs of the mighty Baakens River. Its called ‘The Guy’s From PE, Hey’”. The point of the game, he explains,”is to illustrate that PE breeds quality people for export and that we’re all world beaters”. So in the spirit of this game, pointed out by one such world beating export, you might want to check out another PE surfer making waves: Michael ‘Stone’ Sternberg.. Together with friends Tim Harris and John ‘Lurker’ Flemming, ‘Stone’ made his way along the West coast of Africa (beginning in Cape Town ending up in London well over a year later), scouring the coast for waves in an old Land Cruizer.
Zig Zag surfing magazine recently ran an article on the trio and so you may know something of their adventure, but for a more detailed story check out their website www.africansurfer.co.za . There are photo galleries, video clips from Namibia, Cot d’Ivoire, Gabon, un-surf-related footage from their trip and an interview he and ‘Lurker’ did with the BBC, to name just a few features from their site. Did I mention that Stone cut his teeth at the Fence? “Hey! That guy is from PE, hey”. Salute.
In the same spirit Stanley Badger was recently on the cover of the latest edition of African Surf Rider magazine. Though Stan is not from PE, he’s from Cape St Francis. Still, ‘That guys is from the Eastern Cape, Hey’. Salute.
Press stuck to one such notice board next to her computer is a (yellowing) one by Hagen Engler from his Weekend Surf column titled “Hey! That greatest guy in the world is from PE!”. It starts as follows: “There’s a game played by natives of Nelson Mandela Bay that is as old as the ancient granite cliffs of the mighty Baakens River. Its called ‘The Guy’s From PE, Hey’”. The point of the game, he explains,”is to illustrate that PE breeds quality people for export and that we’re all world beaters”. So in the spirit of this game, pointed out by one such world beating export, you might want to check out another PE surfer making waves: Michael ‘Stone’ Sternberg.. Together with friends Tim Harris and John ‘Lurker’ Flemming, ‘Stone’ made his way along the West coast of Africa (beginning in Cape Town ending up in London well over a year later), scouring the coast for waves in an old Land Cruizer.
Zig Zag surfing magazine recently ran an article on the trio and so you may know something of their adventure, but for a more detailed story check out their website www.africansurfer.co.za . There are photo galleries, video clips from Namibia, Cot d’Ivoire, Gabon, un-surf-related footage from their trip and an interview he and ‘Lurker’ did with the BBC, to name just a few features from their site. Did I mention that Stone cut his teeth at the Fence? “Hey! That guy is from PE, hey”. Salute.
In the same spirit Stanley Badger was recently on the cover of the latest edition of African Surf Rider magazine. Though Stan is not from PE, he’s from Cape St Francis. Still, ‘That guys is from the Eastern Cape, Hey’. Salute.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
All that Glitters
Free stuff is mostly awesome. Free concert tickets are awesome. Free property mail is a pain. Free cheese samples at Spar are awesome. Free Spam mail is infuriating. Free holidays to Zanzibar are awesome. Free T-shirts at a bar in Minneapolis for drinking 8 tequila shots in a row are sneaky. This is the way I see anything free; awesome or suspicious, but mostly awesome.
As the world gets more influenced by marketing and advertising gimmicks, everything starts to appear free. Like credit cards. Banks are always sending out letters saying that you’ve qualified for a free credit card. There’s normally a picture of someone in a Jacuzzi near the ocean, sipping pink liquid out of a coconut, captioned: The new Heavy Weight Gold Card takes you places. There’s bugger all free about getting something you’ll spend the next forty years paying for.
I can’t help looking back to a time when there were only two free items on my mind. Before there were any of the above mentioned freebies, there was Simba Surprise and Reggie’s Toy Rush. One meant shame in its rawest form, the other glory unparalleled.The thought of being Simba Surprised terrified me. I could picture being in school assembly, minding my own business, when the pretty blonde presenter would burst through the stage door and scream, “Surprise!”
“Holy Snakes, Not me!” I’d think.
She’d walk through the hall, scouring a sea of little faces saying “Is Clayton Truscott here, Clayton Truscott, where are you little monkey?” Simba is still standing in the doorway clapping his hands and jumping around, knocking over empty seats foolishly.
There would be no escaping the inevitable. She’d find me; the whole hall would be pointing and giggling at my grave misfortune.
I’m still not sure if I would have blasted my way through an exit, screaming “Enough, you crazy bastard! I’m too old for this!” Or maybe Simba and the presenter would have won me over. I could have ended up on stage, claimed my prizes with a smile, hugged the 7 foot lion and roared into the microphone. Either way, the whole thing would be on KTV for everyone in South Africa to laugh at. Social suicide at 13 years old.
On the other hand there was Reggie’s Toy Rush. The Toy Rush was to kids what the lottery is to adults. It was the only program not animated or presented by a purple dinosaur that had lighties screaming at the TV like it was the Currie Cup Finals. Two children were selected each week to mission through a Reggie’s Store and fill a trolley with anything they wanted for 30 seconds. You could see the sheer sense of bewildered excitement in the face of whoever was on the Toy Rush.
I’d spit snakes at the useless one’s that wasted time in the puzzle section of the store. It was unfair to the countless children watching for a contestant to walk away with humble takings. It was the kind of thing you should research a bit first. Think hard about what you want and make sure you know where to find it. Had I been selected, I would have drawn a map and planned a route. I acctually did do a few practice rounds in the Reggie’s at Greenacres; just to get a feel for the territory should I ever be selected. It was timeless, too. Through the ages my preference changed. I wanted everything from Ninja Turtles figurines to Lego, He-man, GI Joes, Thunder Cats, Bionic 6 and Brave Star. I coveted all.
It’s strange that I never entered Simba Surprise, but feared being on the show like it was made to embarrass me alone. I know that sounds self-absorbed and narcissistic, but I probably was. Then again, I entered the Reggie’s Toy Rush furiously and never heard a peep from them. I’m not sure what to make of that?
Anyways, Let's have something to do with surfing. The waves bumped up a bit yesterday. I saw Seal Point in the afternoon and it looked pretty decent. Today that bump in the swell is still around, but the wind is blowing it socks off. The South Westerly has come out with its teeth showing, which will probably flatten it out again. With the cold front moving in this afternoon, we might get something for the weekend.
As the world gets more influenced by marketing and advertising gimmicks, everything starts to appear free. Like credit cards. Banks are always sending out letters saying that you’ve qualified for a free credit card. There’s normally a picture of someone in a Jacuzzi near the ocean, sipping pink liquid out of a coconut, captioned: The new Heavy Weight Gold Card takes you places. There’s bugger all free about getting something you’ll spend the next forty years paying for.
I can’t help looking back to a time when there were only two free items on my mind. Before there were any of the above mentioned freebies, there was Simba Surprise and Reggie’s Toy Rush. One meant shame in its rawest form, the other glory unparalleled.The thought of being Simba Surprised terrified me. I could picture being in school assembly, minding my own business, when the pretty blonde presenter would burst through the stage door and scream, “Surprise!”
“Holy Snakes, Not me!” I’d think.
She’d walk through the hall, scouring a sea of little faces saying “Is Clayton Truscott here, Clayton Truscott, where are you little monkey?” Simba is still standing in the doorway clapping his hands and jumping around, knocking over empty seats foolishly.
There would be no escaping the inevitable. She’d find me; the whole hall would be pointing and giggling at my grave misfortune.
I’m still not sure if I would have blasted my way through an exit, screaming “Enough, you crazy bastard! I’m too old for this!” Or maybe Simba and the presenter would have won me over. I could have ended up on stage, claimed my prizes with a smile, hugged the 7 foot lion and roared into the microphone. Either way, the whole thing would be on KTV for everyone in South Africa to laugh at. Social suicide at 13 years old.
On the other hand there was Reggie’s Toy Rush. The Toy Rush was to kids what the lottery is to adults. It was the only program not animated or presented by a purple dinosaur that had lighties screaming at the TV like it was the Currie Cup Finals. Two children were selected each week to mission through a Reggie’s Store and fill a trolley with anything they wanted for 30 seconds. You could see the sheer sense of bewildered excitement in the face of whoever was on the Toy Rush.
I’d spit snakes at the useless one’s that wasted time in the puzzle section of the store. It was unfair to the countless children watching for a contestant to walk away with humble takings. It was the kind of thing you should research a bit first. Think hard about what you want and make sure you know where to find it. Had I been selected, I would have drawn a map and planned a route. I acctually did do a few practice rounds in the Reggie’s at Greenacres; just to get a feel for the territory should I ever be selected. It was timeless, too. Through the ages my preference changed. I wanted everything from Ninja Turtles figurines to Lego, He-man, GI Joes, Thunder Cats, Bionic 6 and Brave Star. I coveted all.
It’s strange that I never entered Simba Surprise, but feared being on the show like it was made to embarrass me alone. I know that sounds self-absorbed and narcissistic, but I probably was. Then again, I entered the Reggie’s Toy Rush furiously and never heard a peep from them. I’m not sure what to make of that?
Anyways, Let's have something to do with surfing. The waves bumped up a bit yesterday. I saw Seal Point in the afternoon and it looked pretty decent. Today that bump in the swell is still around, but the wind is blowing it socks off. The South Westerly has come out with its teeth showing, which will probably flatten it out again. With the cold front moving in this afternoon, we might get something for the weekend.
Monday, October 20, 2008
The Fanta Super Hero
My friends and I will always remember a super hero named Guru. Guru is surfing’s everyman. His wetsuit was four seasons old, but very well looked after; the bright orange panels still glowed like they were made from solid Fanta. His board was inches short of a full length diving board, but he needed some extra buoyancy to support his boep. He’d arrive at Avalanche at 5:30pm in his work bakie (White Lightning), still wearing a carpenters overall, Ciggie dangling from the corner of his handle bar moustache. Saw dust and elbow grease stained his clothes and his skin was the colour of milky hot chocolate; you could see he worked outside all year round.
We’d be shivering in the parking lot, weak with hunger and sporting a snot doughnuts round our noses from the cold wind, waiting impatiently for our mothers to arrive. Guru would stop in front of the parking lot and stick his head out the window. After scanning the horizon for 20 seconds he’d whip White Lighting into a devastating wheelspin, placing his steed dead between two white road lines with plastic surgeon-like precision. Jaws aloft, we’d see Guru get suited up in nano seconds, still sitting in the single cab (like superman in a tikkie box stall). Our Fanta superhero, the one named Guru, would emerge and be dashing down the beach before we ever had time to ask his real name.
His skill and agility saw Guru over the rocks and into the line up just as my mom always arrived. From the back seat of my mom’s Kombi, we’d watch Guru stroke into his first set wave, Rothman’s Red still in his mouth, and cheer him on as his boogied down the line on his giant surfboard. He never won any contests or earned critical acclaim, but his tight fisted claim after riding a cracker two foot wave at Avos will always stand out in my mind as the epitome of awesomeness.
I had the honour of gracing the lineup beside Guru once. It was on a Thursday afternoon. Avos was firing— the waves were somewhere around 3 foot and glassy, so in PE that qualifies. I’d seen my mom’s Kombi, but I was hard pressed to get out of the water. She was flashing her brights and hooting, but I couldn’t leave until I got a good last wave in. I sat at the back waving at my mom, signalling one more wave. Amidst all my flustered waving, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed White Lightning peering at the line up. Suddenly everything went black. The Fanta Super Hero cracked me across the back of the head before I had a chance to say, “Jissus, It’s Guru!”
I gathered my senses and turned towards him, but before I could ask why he klapped me The Guru said, “Only a peephole doesn’t listen to his mother.”
And with those words I left the line up, apologised to my mother and got in the Kombi. From the boot of my mom’s car I watched Guru stroke into wafting three footer and ride it clumsily down the point. Although I couldn’t see it in fine detail, because of the afternoon glare (and because I lost a contact lense when Guru belted me), I knew it was him. He howled like a wolf on its last night in the forest and claimed it like Super Hero.
Today the waves were appalling. The conditions weren’t that bad, there was no swell whatsoever. Even driving down the coast from Cape Town, I saw no swell activity along the West Coast. Maybe with the imminent Cold Front and easterly winds we’ll have something to shout about by the weekend?
The South African Team ended up seventh at the World Surfing Games, which is a marvellous achievement. For photos and fine details (like heat sheets and video highlights), check out www.wsg2008.com
We’d be shivering in the parking lot, weak with hunger and sporting a snot doughnuts round our noses from the cold wind, waiting impatiently for our mothers to arrive. Guru would stop in front of the parking lot and stick his head out the window. After scanning the horizon for 20 seconds he’d whip White Lighting into a devastating wheelspin, placing his steed dead between two white road lines with plastic surgeon-like precision. Jaws aloft, we’d see Guru get suited up in nano seconds, still sitting in the single cab (like superman in a tikkie box stall). Our Fanta superhero, the one named Guru, would emerge and be dashing down the beach before we ever had time to ask his real name.
His skill and agility saw Guru over the rocks and into the line up just as my mom always arrived. From the back seat of my mom’s Kombi, we’d watch Guru stroke into his first set wave, Rothman’s Red still in his mouth, and cheer him on as his boogied down the line on his giant surfboard. He never won any contests or earned critical acclaim, but his tight fisted claim after riding a cracker two foot wave at Avos will always stand out in my mind as the epitome of awesomeness.
I had the honour of gracing the lineup beside Guru once. It was on a Thursday afternoon. Avos was firing— the waves were somewhere around 3 foot and glassy, so in PE that qualifies. I’d seen my mom’s Kombi, but I was hard pressed to get out of the water. She was flashing her brights and hooting, but I couldn’t leave until I got a good last wave in. I sat at the back waving at my mom, signalling one more wave. Amidst all my flustered waving, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed White Lightning peering at the line up. Suddenly everything went black. The Fanta Super Hero cracked me across the back of the head before I had a chance to say, “Jissus, It’s Guru!”
I gathered my senses and turned towards him, but before I could ask why he klapped me The Guru said, “Only a peephole doesn’t listen to his mother.”
And with those words I left the line up, apologised to my mother and got in the Kombi. From the boot of my mom’s car I watched Guru stroke into wafting three footer and ride it clumsily down the point. Although I couldn’t see it in fine detail, because of the afternoon glare (and because I lost a contact lense when Guru belted me), I knew it was him. He howled like a wolf on its last night in the forest and claimed it like Super Hero.
Today the waves were appalling. The conditions weren’t that bad, there was no swell whatsoever. Even driving down the coast from Cape Town, I saw no swell activity along the West Coast. Maybe with the imminent Cold Front and easterly winds we’ll have something to shout about by the weekend?
The South African Team ended up seventh at the World Surfing Games, which is a marvellous achievement. For photos and fine details (like heat sheets and video highlights), check out www.wsg2008.com
Sunday, October 19, 2008
World Surfing Games
Put your hands together for Matthew Moir (Cape Town), now the 2 time World Surfing Games Champion. David Lee also made the finals of the body boarding event, placing 4rth overall. Thats brilliant stuff from the South African Team. I'll have the overall team standings posted as soon as they're available.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Something for Friday
It's been a wild week. Not that every week isn't full or surprises, but this one has just been a particularly sneaky dingo. New political parties are forming, the stock market is blowing chunks at worried investors, rugby fans are up in arms over a Hate Speech bonanza. My nerves are shot. I almost expected the waves to be insanely big in PE today. Thankfully some things will never change. I even phoned the surf report to make sure. It's small again, chaps, just like it always is. Earth is still round and life goes on.
There are a few Saffas competing in Lanzerote today, at the Santa Pro. The results and live feed are on the website:
http://www.aspeurope.com/2008/events08/lanzarote08/index.php
Things are still going well for the SA Team at the World Surfing Games. Tarryn Chudleigh won her round 3 heat, as did Matthew Kruger. He joins the rest of the open team in Round 4, which will run today. (www.wsg2008.com)
There are a few Saffas competing in Lanzerote today, at the Santa Pro. The results and live feed are on the website:
http://www.aspeurope.com/2008/events08/lanzarote08/index.php
Things are still going well for the SA Team at the World Surfing Games. Tarryn Chudleigh won her round 3 heat, as did Matthew Kruger. He joins the rest of the open team in Round 4, which will run today. (www.wsg2008.com)
Thursday, October 16, 2008
The Ties that Bind Us
I made several promises to myself the other day. Not New Years Eve- type resolutions. I’m talking about serious, life changing stuff. Decisions that will have a positive affect on the way I feel—simple things that mean a lot. I wanted to start each day by making my bed, not just when grandparents are visiting. Surf when the waves are kak, and try to enjoy it. Pay my library fines. Take George and Maximus for walks on the beach more often. Be kind to Jehovah’s Witnesses and Christians. Grow veggies. Have drinks with the buggers a little less. That sort of thing. A pay it forward type of revolution.
That afternoon I took a drive that sent my progressive ideas to the cleaners. It wasn’t a long trip— like from Humewood to Kragga Kamma and back. It was just down the road, to the Spar centre for a DVD and some niknaks that caused me to loose it like Bulldog in a tutu. The source of my frustration: Traffic circles…
They’re pretty new to our part of the world. I had only seen pictures of them in the Learners Licence manual, until a few at the back of Summerstrand went up 2 years ago or so. I remember people talking about them like aliens had landed. There hadn’t been so much controversy in PE since ‘There’s Something About Mary’ was almost taken off the big screen.
Throughout the driving demographic spectrum, you’ll see panic, confusion and inner turmoil set in as cars approach one. No one can process the actual meaning of a Traffic circle. Everyone sees something else. Old folk see a cul-de-sac; they park in for a while and rethink their route, before reversing and turning round. People swear and shout, but the old dear behind the wheel normally sticks his/her head out and explains that the road is closed.
Taxi drivers see a road block or one of those red cones that you doge in drunken driving experiments; they just swerve on through, regardless of the waiting order. White people rarely challenge taxi drivers, because they assume they’ll be shot.
SUV drivers see a chance to show off their kiff bakkies, and ride over them. More accidents per capita are caused by enthusiastic meatheads than any other vehicle.
Nervous, middle aged parents see a dangerous intersection, where ‘all these blood crazy drivers are just somma going whenever!’— They hold up the traffic longer than anyone else. I could go on.
I got back from my trip to Spar spitting snakes. I was furious. What kind of baboonery possesses this city’s drivers? I asked myself while pouring a stiff drink at 2 PM.
Anowhow, it’s all fair and well to get upset with Eastern Cape drivers. Yesterday I was flung off my high horse by a farm buckie that passed me on Sir Lowry’s Pass.
I was driving about 70 Kays an hour, in the right hand lane, when this stuffed out old farm vehicle whizzed by in a cloud smoke from the exhaust. The driver looked miserable and irritated, and was probably muttering something about East Cape drivers being the worst on earth. His staff members on the back were h9olding on to the canopy, pretending to fly like super man and swim breaststroke. I thought it was a pretty funny scene, but also realised that I’m as kak a driver as anyone born and bred in the Oos Kaap. Lekker.
In surf related news, Donnie Paarman, the globe trotting, eccentric surfer from Cape Town has just released his autobiography. It’s called ‘Lunatic Surfer or Destiny’, and it chronicles his crazy life, from the hippie days of the 1960’s till now. He is one of the most iconic surfers to emerge from South Africa and his story will be a screaming read, no doubt. Lunatic Surfer or Destiny can be purchased via www.surfpix.co.za or at stores nation wide.
At the ISA World Games yesterday, Slummies surfer Devon Mattheys went down in the second round. That’s a sad blow to the team, as he’s a brilliant competitor. That’s the way contests go sometimes though. Ryan Payne (St Francis), Mat Kruger (Durbs) and Klee Strachen (CT and Durbs) are still in contention, and they’ll be competing in the repo round 3 today. For the live feed, news, heats sheets and photos, check out www.WSG2008.com.
I couldn’t tell you what the waves are doing in the bay today, because I’m in Cape Town for the week, but I checked the weather report and see that the wind is turning offshore this afternoon. I assume after the easterly wind this week Fence will have some swell and waves when the tide is full.
That afternoon I took a drive that sent my progressive ideas to the cleaners. It wasn’t a long trip— like from Humewood to Kragga Kamma and back. It was just down the road, to the Spar centre for a DVD and some niknaks that caused me to loose it like Bulldog in a tutu. The source of my frustration: Traffic circles…
They’re pretty new to our part of the world. I had only seen pictures of them in the Learners Licence manual, until a few at the back of Summerstrand went up 2 years ago or so. I remember people talking about them like aliens had landed. There hadn’t been so much controversy in PE since ‘There’s Something About Mary’ was almost taken off the big screen.
Throughout the driving demographic spectrum, you’ll see panic, confusion and inner turmoil set in as cars approach one. No one can process the actual meaning of a Traffic circle. Everyone sees something else. Old folk see a cul-de-sac; they park in for a while and rethink their route, before reversing and turning round. People swear and shout, but the old dear behind the wheel normally sticks his/her head out and explains that the road is closed.
Taxi drivers see a road block or one of those red cones that you doge in drunken driving experiments; they just swerve on through, regardless of the waiting order. White people rarely challenge taxi drivers, because they assume they’ll be shot.
SUV drivers see a chance to show off their kiff bakkies, and ride over them. More accidents per capita are caused by enthusiastic meatheads than any other vehicle.
Nervous, middle aged parents see a dangerous intersection, where ‘all these blood crazy drivers are just somma going whenever!’— They hold up the traffic longer than anyone else. I could go on.
I got back from my trip to Spar spitting snakes. I was furious. What kind of baboonery possesses this city’s drivers? I asked myself while pouring a stiff drink at 2 PM.
Anowhow, it’s all fair and well to get upset with Eastern Cape drivers. Yesterday I was flung off my high horse by a farm buckie that passed me on Sir Lowry’s Pass.
I was driving about 70 Kays an hour, in the right hand lane, when this stuffed out old farm vehicle whizzed by in a cloud smoke from the exhaust. The driver looked miserable and irritated, and was probably muttering something about East Cape drivers being the worst on earth. His staff members on the back were h9olding on to the canopy, pretending to fly like super man and swim breaststroke. I thought it was a pretty funny scene, but also realised that I’m as kak a driver as anyone born and bred in the Oos Kaap. Lekker.
In surf related news, Donnie Paarman, the globe trotting, eccentric surfer from Cape Town has just released his autobiography. It’s called ‘Lunatic Surfer or Destiny’, and it chronicles his crazy life, from the hippie days of the 1960’s till now. He is one of the most iconic surfers to emerge from South Africa and his story will be a screaming read, no doubt. Lunatic Surfer or Destiny can be purchased via www.surfpix.co.za or at stores nation wide.
At the ISA World Games yesterday, Slummies surfer Devon Mattheys went down in the second round. That’s a sad blow to the team, as he’s a brilliant competitor. That’s the way contests go sometimes though. Ryan Payne (St Francis), Mat Kruger (Durbs) and Klee Strachen (CT and Durbs) are still in contention, and they’ll be competing in the repo round 3 today. For the live feed, news, heats sheets and photos, check out www.WSG2008.com.
I couldn’t tell you what the waves are doing in the bay today, because I’m in Cape Town for the week, but I checked the weather report and see that the wind is turning offshore this afternoon. I assume after the easterly wind this week Fence will have some swell and waves when the tide is full.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Cointest Stuff
Just got word that Shaun Joubert placed third overall at the Oakley Junior challenge, and Nick Godfrey came fifth. That’s really impressive stuff.
Also, check out http://www.wsg2008.com/ for the latest results at the World Surfing Games in Portugal. Everyone from the South African side is still in the contest after day 4 wrapped up this afternoon.
Also, check out http://www.wsg2008.com/ for the latest results at the World Surfing Games in Portugal. Everyone from the South African side is still in the contest after day 4 wrapped up this afternoon.
Sharks and Stuff
There’s been a lot of hype about shark repellent products.
The shark Shield and Shark Pod are well documented on the net. There are plenty of testimonials, guarantees and scientific explanations as to how and why either device will keep you safe, and I believe them. The evidence looks good and I’m an easy sell. If a scientist told me that rubbing Vaseline in my ears and lining my wetsuit with cabbage leaves would protect me from sharks, I’d do it. All I want to know is how much the sucker costs.
I’d like to be like those surfers who frequent secret spots, where big sharks are known to breed and eat trespassers. The waves are generally worth the risks. Look at the Transkei— beautiful place, amazing waves, full of big sharks. But if I don’t have modern technology protecting me, I want at least 5 other people around to give me better odds of survival. Without that sort of assurance I’m too scared of losing limbs or dying. Forget about braving the reserve in PE alone, or having a quick session at Rocky’s after work by myself. I can’t get into that sort of mind frame. I’d rather slog it out at Pipe with 40 other people. I’ll sit at the backline and talk about the old days with John Scheepers and co, which is almost as entertaining as a surf in good waves.
But here is the crux of the matter: if the shark pod or shark shield costs 50 thousand Rand, I can’t have one. And it seems awfully strange that none of the websites advertising them will break the news of how much you’re in for. They butter you up with diagrams and video footage of some guy open water diving next to a 6 meter Great White.
I’m not him.
Maybe it’s a good thing the shark shield and pod are not a huge commercial success though. Tourism and industry can wreck a place like the Kei.
Anyone see read the paper this morning? David Jacobs is my new hero- he's the Michaelangelo of building sand castle. Check out http://www.theherald.co.za/.
The shark Shield and Shark Pod are well documented on the net. There are plenty of testimonials, guarantees and scientific explanations as to how and why either device will keep you safe, and I believe them. The evidence looks good and I’m an easy sell. If a scientist told me that rubbing Vaseline in my ears and lining my wetsuit with cabbage leaves would protect me from sharks, I’d do it. All I want to know is how much the sucker costs.
I’d like to be like those surfers who frequent secret spots, where big sharks are known to breed and eat trespassers. The waves are generally worth the risks. Look at the Transkei— beautiful place, amazing waves, full of big sharks. But if I don’t have modern technology protecting me, I want at least 5 other people around to give me better odds of survival. Without that sort of assurance I’m too scared of losing limbs or dying. Forget about braving the reserve in PE alone, or having a quick session at Rocky’s after work by myself. I can’t get into that sort of mind frame. I’d rather slog it out at Pipe with 40 other people. I’ll sit at the backline and talk about the old days with John Scheepers and co, which is almost as entertaining as a surf in good waves.
But here is the crux of the matter: if the shark pod or shark shield costs 50 thousand Rand, I can’t have one. And it seems awfully strange that none of the websites advertising them will break the news of how much you’re in for. They butter you up with diagrams and video footage of some guy open water diving next to a 6 meter Great White.
I’m not him.
Maybe it’s a good thing the shark shield and pod are not a huge commercial success though. Tourism and industry can wreck a place like the Kei.
Anyone see read the paper this morning? David Jacobs is my new hero- he's the Michaelangelo of building sand castle. Check out http://www.theherald.co.za/.
Oakley Pro Junior Global Challenge
Nick Godfrey (Cape St. Francis) and Shaun Joubert (Mossel Bay) have both made it to the quarterfinals of the Oakley Pro Junior Challenge. Joubert will be up against a Brazilian laaitie name Miguel Popo, while Godfrey takes on Hawaiian Dusty Payne. As far as I know there is no live feed for the event, so we’ll have to wait for those results to be released. If you want to see footage of round 2 and the lay day’s free surfing session, follow this link: http://www.surfline.com/video/video_player/video_player.cfm?id=19308
WQS NEWS
Greg Emslie came second in the Rio Surf Pro International last week. Nice one. The result sees him go from 17th of the WQS to 9th on the qualifying tour. David Weare is now sitting at 6th, so there are two South Africans looking at Championship Tour re-qualification.
Nick Godfrey (Cape St. Francis) and Shaun Joubert (Mossel Bay) have both made it to the quarterfinals of the Oakley Pro Junior Challenge. Joubert will be up against a Brazilian laaitie name Miguel Popo, while Godfrey takes on Hawaiian Dusty Payne. As far as I know there is no live feed for the event, so we’ll have to wait for those results to be released. If you want to see footage of round 2 and the lay day’s free surfing session, follow this link: http://www.surfline.com/video/video_player/video_player.cfm?id=19308
WQS NEWS
Greg Emslie came second in the Rio Surf Pro International last week. Nice one. The result sees him go from 17th of the WQS to 9th on the qualifying tour. David Weare is now sitting at 6th, so there are two South Africans looking at Championship Tour re-qualification.
Monday, October 13, 2008
TO MASE AND FAYE: THANKS FOR THE BRAAI
When I win the lottery I’m going to spend every cent hosting the World’s Biggest Braai.
I want it to be on a Sunday like yesterday— the weather has to be perfect. Special guests will include Jacob Zuma, Morgan Tsvangirai, Steve Hofmeyr, Tom Curren, John Irving, Julius Malema, Osama Bin Laden, Hillary and Bill Clinton, Hugh Masekela, Laura Marling, Ani Di Franco, Robert Plant, Helen Zille, Angus Buchan and many, many more. Once the marketing project is launched, Bono and Elton John will sponsor the event. There’ll be enough food for every living person on earth to have seconds. Black Label and Red Stripe are going to be on tap all night long. My back yard might be a bit small, so we’ll have to find a different venue. But those are the details that we can worry about later.
I’ll call it ‘Operation Yeeeha!’ The sole purpose of the braai will be to initiate global discussion and have the fattest jol ever executed. Monday morning might have to be declared an international public holiday, just so everyone has time to get home.
I tell you, we’ll fix everything during Operation Yeeeha. We’ll come up with a reasonable solution for all the world’s problems. Can you imagine Barack Obama, Morgan Tsvangirai and Nicolas Sarkozy chatting round the fire? No formal EU conference setting. No pretentious language barriers. If someone wants to know what the people of Zimbabwe, France or Korea have to say on a particular topic, they’ll just ask— everyone will be there, after all. Once everyone becomes friends, international relations will become a reality. Not a pompous discussion between the rich people who run each country.
We could resolve serious issues liker food crises, gender inequality, racial tension and THE MANY REASONS WAR IS SUCH A DUMB IDEA. And everyone will have a marvelous time while doing it.
Once the night rolls on, we’ll all take turns prank calling Robert Mugabe, one of the few people on earth not invited- Operation Yeeeha will be limited to red blooded human beings. “Err.. Mister President. Bob. Is your fridge running?” Jacob Zuma will say, stifling his laughter, and using Salman Rushdie’s cell-phone to avoid the call being traced back to him. “What do you mean ‘is my fridge running? Who is this! Guards!” Robert Mugabe will shout from his Queen sized bed in Borrowdale Brooke, Harare. His palace will be empty though, because even Robert Mugabe’s guards will be invited to Operation Yeeeha.
During the wee hours of the morning we’ll have the worlds largest Rock, Paper Scissors contest, to see who has to go to the petrol station for pies. Abdullahi YUSUF Ahmed and
The Dalia Lama will square off in a ‘best of three’ competition that sees the loser off to Sasol and Debonairs for the biggest order placed in history.
I believe in braais. They can unite people from all walks of life, religious backgrounds and classes. Throw in a game of rugby/ soccer/ tennis/ anything competitive on the TV and you’ve got yourself an afternoon anyone can enjoy. It’s somewhat barbaric— gathering around a fire to cook animal flesh and talk about stuff. But that shows you how something barbaric can be beautiful at the same time. Think about how much more productive EU conferences and leader summits would be if everyone went to someone’s house and had a braai.
Oh, the things I’ll do when I win the lottery…
There are fun looking conditions today. The swell is really small though... but the wind is not that strong (for PE) and it’s warm outside. It’s the perfect day for social surfing. I’m told St. Francis and J-bay are pretty much the same- small, but fun. Fence could be fun when the tide pulls in. The banks look a bit wonky, so we'll have to wait and see.
Has anyone noticed the dolphins of late? Since last week there’ve been dolphins cruising up and down the bay, feeding on something beyond the breakers.
Quiksilver have updated their website with a special feature on Kelly Slater. Check out http://surf.quiksilver.com/ks9/index.aspx for interviews, products and videos of the man with endless talent.
ISA World Games
The South African team got off to a solid start in Portugal. Matthew Moir (Longboarding), David Lee, Sacha Specker (both Mens bodyboarding) and Pamela Bowren (women’s bodyboarding) all won their opening heats during the first round of competition. The event carries on through the week and will be broadcasting live via http://www.wsg2008.com/ .
Oakley Pro Junior Global Challenge Champs
Shaun Joubert (Mossel Bay) and Nick Godfrey (St Francis Bay) won their round two heats at Oakley Pro Junior Global Challenge Champs (Bali). Competition is currently on hold, as event organizers are waiting for the waves to get better before resuming. Joubert went on to win his round three heat before competition was cut short. Nick Godfrey will take on Keito Matsuoka (Japan) when round 3 continues. The waiting period for competition lasts until the 17th of October, so they have a good time frame to hold a few days of competition in solid surf.
See http://www.oakleyprojunior.com/ for photos and news.
I want it to be on a Sunday like yesterday— the weather has to be perfect. Special guests will include Jacob Zuma, Morgan Tsvangirai, Steve Hofmeyr, Tom Curren, John Irving, Julius Malema, Osama Bin Laden, Hillary and Bill Clinton, Hugh Masekela, Laura Marling, Ani Di Franco, Robert Plant, Helen Zille, Angus Buchan and many, many more. Once the marketing project is launched, Bono and Elton John will sponsor the event. There’ll be enough food for every living person on earth to have seconds. Black Label and Red Stripe are going to be on tap all night long. My back yard might be a bit small, so we’ll have to find a different venue. But those are the details that we can worry about later.
I’ll call it ‘Operation Yeeeha!’ The sole purpose of the braai will be to initiate global discussion and have the fattest jol ever executed. Monday morning might have to be declared an international public holiday, just so everyone has time to get home.
I tell you, we’ll fix everything during Operation Yeeeha. We’ll come up with a reasonable solution for all the world’s problems. Can you imagine Barack Obama, Morgan Tsvangirai and Nicolas Sarkozy chatting round the fire? No formal EU conference setting. No pretentious language barriers. If someone wants to know what the people of Zimbabwe, France or Korea have to say on a particular topic, they’ll just ask— everyone will be there, after all. Once everyone becomes friends, international relations will become a reality. Not a pompous discussion between the rich people who run each country.
We could resolve serious issues liker food crises, gender inequality, racial tension and THE MANY REASONS WAR IS SUCH A DUMB IDEA. And everyone will have a marvelous time while doing it.
Once the night rolls on, we’ll all take turns prank calling Robert Mugabe, one of the few people on earth not invited- Operation Yeeeha will be limited to red blooded human beings. “Err.. Mister President. Bob. Is your fridge running?” Jacob Zuma will say, stifling his laughter, and using Salman Rushdie’s cell-phone to avoid the call being traced back to him. “What do you mean ‘is my fridge running? Who is this! Guards!” Robert Mugabe will shout from his Queen sized bed in Borrowdale Brooke, Harare. His palace will be empty though, because even Robert Mugabe’s guards will be invited to Operation Yeeeha.
During the wee hours of the morning we’ll have the worlds largest Rock, Paper Scissors contest, to see who has to go to the petrol station for pies. Abdullahi YUSUF Ahmed and
The Dalia Lama will square off in a ‘best of three’ competition that sees the loser off to Sasol and Debonairs for the biggest order placed in history.
I believe in braais. They can unite people from all walks of life, religious backgrounds and classes. Throw in a game of rugby/ soccer/ tennis/ anything competitive on the TV and you’ve got yourself an afternoon anyone can enjoy. It’s somewhat barbaric— gathering around a fire to cook animal flesh and talk about stuff. But that shows you how something barbaric can be beautiful at the same time. Think about how much more productive EU conferences and leader summits would be if everyone went to someone’s house and had a braai.
Oh, the things I’ll do when I win the lottery…
There are fun looking conditions today. The swell is really small though... but the wind is not that strong (for PE) and it’s warm outside. It’s the perfect day for social surfing. I’m told St. Francis and J-bay are pretty much the same- small, but fun. Fence could be fun when the tide pulls in. The banks look a bit wonky, so we'll have to wait and see.
Has anyone noticed the dolphins of late? Since last week there’ve been dolphins cruising up and down the bay, feeding on something beyond the breakers.
Quiksilver have updated their website with a special feature on Kelly Slater. Check out http://surf.quiksilver.com/ks9/index.aspx for interviews, products and videos of the man with endless talent.
ISA World Games
The South African team got off to a solid start in Portugal. Matthew Moir (Longboarding), David Lee, Sacha Specker (both Mens bodyboarding) and Pamela Bowren (women’s bodyboarding) all won their opening heats during the first round of competition. The event carries on through the week and will be broadcasting live via http://www.wsg2008.com/ .
Oakley Pro Junior Global Challenge Champs
Shaun Joubert (Mossel Bay) and Nick Godfrey (St Francis Bay) won their round two heats at Oakley Pro Junior Global Challenge Champs (Bali). Competition is currently on hold, as event organizers are waiting for the waves to get better before resuming. Joubert went on to win his round three heat before competition was cut short. Nick Godfrey will take on Keito Matsuoka (Japan) when round 3 continues. The waiting period for competition lasts until the 17th of October, so they have a good time frame to hold a few days of competition in solid surf.
See http://www.oakleyprojunior.com/ for photos and news.
Friday, October 10, 2008
meniscus. now. schupit laaightie...
When I was 19 I had the worst job in PE, next to cleaning the prison showers. I was the sole day bar tender at a restaurant dwindling into bankruptcy. To boost its clientele they sold cheap liquor and offered free peanuts (this was considered a marketing gimmick by management). After a while the restaurant closed and they stayed open as a bar, which was fine with me— I kept my job. The only people who came there were alcoholics and perlemoen poachers, anyways.
I would arrive at half past eleven. By then most of the regulars had already ditched work and were waiting to be served their first round. 22 sets of thirsty eyes calling me obscene names and yelling for beer or brandy would be the morning chorus I knew well.
Morning drinkers are shy before they’ve had a few. After a couple of rounds the party would get started. Everyone would school together and tell the most outrageous stories; it became a competition. Bert the fish tank salesman would tell a tale of bedding 4 nymphs after he’d downed a bottle of klippies, when Jonas the army vet would interrupt like so, “ Agg jussie man, thats bladdy girlie shtuff! Lemmie tell yoo okes a real storie...” And so the next round of “Ripley’s believe it or not” would begin.
The worst part of the day came when someone ordered a shooter. It was always Jurgermeister or Tequila, and heaven help me if they weren’t poured right. I would be slandered and crucified. To this day I cannot pour a shot without hearing a voice screaming at me” Remmemer laaightie! Yoo just bladdy remmemer to pour mine wif a meniscus! else there’s gonna be kak. Kay doos?” After a while I became immune to it and laughed with them, but for the first two weeks it was more terrifying than satanic animal rituals.
I will always look back at the one time I told Bert that he’d had enough jurgermeister. “No more Bert, you’re too drunk,” I said shyly. He took off all his clothes and then threatened to “beat me up to the sky.” When Ronnie the manager came in to close up shop later, I was curled in a ball near the ice machine, covered in tears and snot, wailing for help.
Abalone poachers were the nightmare of nightmares. They’d come in and startle everyone, drink four shooters, and then race away in a souped up Monza. And there was no way in hell I would have said anything to those guys. I would have paid for their drinks all night to avoid having my arms torn off. I once saw three of them take two shots of tequila, shnarf a nose-full of salt and then squeeze lemon into their eye. They all threw the shot glasses at me and left without paying. “Thanks guys, come again soon, I’ll get this one” I said as they walked out.
I prayed for a bouncer. True story. I got down on bended knee and asked my heathen gods for “A breeker who wears New Rocks and takes steroids” to get hired. Alas, the breeker of my prayers never started working at the bar. I quit after 3 months, vowing to burn the place down if it didn’t fold before I had the means to.
I think I’m rambling about this, because I was smashed by a bouncer last night. After the Wonderboom concert, my friend Brett tried to sneak a label out the bar. Now, I agree with Brett— if you pay for a label, it’s yours. In or out the bar. But rules is rules. And the bouncer in charge had other ideas. He flattened me on the sidewalk while charging Brett down, with a classic clothesline maneuver. I lay on the floor afterwards, seeing stars and yellow birds. It felt like I’d been bliksemed by a WWE wrestler. When I got my head together, I looked up and met the scornful glare of a giant, wearing New Rocks. “You came!” I screamed.
Without the backing story, he didn’t know what I meant. “Jussis China, take your moffie friend away,” he told Brett, releasing him from the cage fighter’s choke hold he had him in, “It’s time for you two to wai.”
So I just have to tell the bouncer who slammed me into the ground last night: Thank you. Good work, you knights in shining New Rocks.
I'm not entirely sure what I can take away from my days as a day bar tender. Yes, I gained priceless knowledge in the department of pouring a shooter with a meniscus- which is a shooter poured to the brim, so that it forms an oval on top. But what did I really learn as far as life lessons and morality goes? I’ll figure it our eventually. I’m just really glad Bert didn’t beat me up to the sky when he had the chance.
The waves are really small again, but it’s magnificent outside. It’s about a foot at the Fence. J-bay and St Francis are small, too. The wind yesterday blew everything away. It’s a good day for chilling on the beach and nursing a sore head.
.
I would arrive at half past eleven. By then most of the regulars had already ditched work and were waiting to be served their first round. 22 sets of thirsty eyes calling me obscene names and yelling for beer or brandy would be the morning chorus I knew well.
Morning drinkers are shy before they’ve had a few. After a couple of rounds the party would get started. Everyone would school together and tell the most outrageous stories; it became a competition. Bert the fish tank salesman would tell a tale of bedding 4 nymphs after he’d downed a bottle of klippies, when Jonas the army vet would interrupt like so, “ Agg jussie man, thats bladdy girlie shtuff! Lemmie tell yoo okes a real storie...” And so the next round of “Ripley’s believe it or not” would begin.
The worst part of the day came when someone ordered a shooter. It was always Jurgermeister or Tequila, and heaven help me if they weren’t poured right. I would be slandered and crucified. To this day I cannot pour a shot without hearing a voice screaming at me” Remmemer laaightie! Yoo just bladdy remmemer to pour mine wif a meniscus! else there’s gonna be kak. Kay doos?” After a while I became immune to it and laughed with them, but for the first two weeks it was more terrifying than satanic animal rituals.
I will always look back at the one time I told Bert that he’d had enough jurgermeister. “No more Bert, you’re too drunk,” I said shyly. He took off all his clothes and then threatened to “beat me up to the sky.” When Ronnie the manager came in to close up shop later, I was curled in a ball near the ice machine, covered in tears and snot, wailing for help.
Abalone poachers were the nightmare of nightmares. They’d come in and startle everyone, drink four shooters, and then race away in a souped up Monza. And there was no way in hell I would have said anything to those guys. I would have paid for their drinks all night to avoid having my arms torn off. I once saw three of them take two shots of tequila, shnarf a nose-full of salt and then squeeze lemon into their eye. They all threw the shot glasses at me and left without paying. “Thanks guys, come again soon, I’ll get this one” I said as they walked out.
I prayed for a bouncer. True story. I got down on bended knee and asked my heathen gods for “A breeker who wears New Rocks and takes steroids” to get hired. Alas, the breeker of my prayers never started working at the bar. I quit after 3 months, vowing to burn the place down if it didn’t fold before I had the means to.
I think I’m rambling about this, because I was smashed by a bouncer last night. After the Wonderboom concert, my friend Brett tried to sneak a label out the bar. Now, I agree with Brett— if you pay for a label, it’s yours. In or out the bar. But rules is rules. And the bouncer in charge had other ideas. He flattened me on the sidewalk while charging Brett down, with a classic clothesline maneuver. I lay on the floor afterwards, seeing stars and yellow birds. It felt like I’d been bliksemed by a WWE wrestler. When I got my head together, I looked up and met the scornful glare of a giant, wearing New Rocks. “You came!” I screamed.
Without the backing story, he didn’t know what I meant. “Jussis China, take your moffie friend away,” he told Brett, releasing him from the cage fighter’s choke hold he had him in, “It’s time for you two to wai.”
So I just have to tell the bouncer who slammed me into the ground last night: Thank you. Good work, you knights in shining New Rocks.
I'm not entirely sure what I can take away from my days as a day bar tender. Yes, I gained priceless knowledge in the department of pouring a shooter with a meniscus- which is a shooter poured to the brim, so that it forms an oval on top. But what did I really learn as far as life lessons and morality goes? I’ll figure it our eventually. I’m just really glad Bert didn’t beat me up to the sky when he had the chance.
The waves are really small again, but it’s magnificent outside. It’s about a foot at the Fence. J-bay and St Francis are small, too. The wind yesterday blew everything away. It’s a good day for chilling on the beach and nursing a sore head.
.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
One that Ends Like An Episode of Jerry Springer
After a session at the Fence yesterday, a buddy of mine cracked open an ice cold can of coke. I don’t drink coke regularly and I’ll never buy it out of choice. But I was hellishing thirsty and needed a small sip. I tell you, it was the most blissful mouthful of liquid I’ve ever had. I had to have a can of my own. Straight away I high tailed it to Santo Antonio café, where I bought my first can of coke in years. After two sips reality kicked in. I was sorely disappointed. It was as bad tasting as I remember it ever being.
It only tasted good when it belonged to someone else and I’ve tried to trace the source of this phenomenon in adults— I think I’ve got it.
At a braai in 1988 with some of my parent’s friends, a kid brought his limited edition Castle of Gray Scull (from the children’s series He-Man and Maters of the Universe). It had all the bells and whistles— lights that flickered, a device that blew steam out the eyes and rooms almost big enough for a five year old to play in. His parents bought it in America a month earlier, and it was the only one of its kind in Port Elizabeth. I couldn’t believe my eyes—it was surely the greatest toy in existence.
As it turned out, this child didn’t even like He-Man that much. He was far more interested in someone else’s whistling yoyo. I saw a gap and moved in quickly. There were three figurines in the castle that I could use: 2 Goodies (He-man and Orko) and a Badie (Beast Man) to annihilate. I stayed in there for hours; after a while I made more characters, using twigs and leaves, furthering the pot line. I even skipped supper, opting to snack on songalolos and ants to maximize my time.
My heart broke when my parents said we were leaving; I knew it would be the last I saw of that amazing castle. But then I noticed all the kids were sad to leave. The one who brought the castle was gutted about parting ways with someone else’s yoyo. The kid who spent all night jamming on my push scooter felt nailed to the floor, now that he was walking again. A queer boy howled like a wolf when letting go of some girl’s Barbie dolls. It was so strange…
Everyone at this braai went home devastated over losing something that never belonged to them in the first place.
People are weird. When adults drive pimped out cars with fancy tires, lights and oversized engines, or spend heaps of cash on clothing, hairstyles and electric gadgets, are they trying to avoid feeling envious of anyone else. Are they still filling the empty void created after a metaphoric night in Gray Skull? Do we all just want that magical sip of someone else’s Coca-Cola to last forever?
I’m sorry if you feel cheated out of the last 4 minutes. I just needed something else to write about, because there are no waves today. When I tell you its flat and windy, I mean that very literally. I’ve seen bigger waves breaking on Lake Superior. It’s cross shore outside the bay, so that won’t be any good either. If you’re desperate to do something surf oriented, check out Jordy Smith’s section on the new movie ‘Stranger Than Fiction’— http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=sQ6tVSSCjjM. It is unbelievable.
In other surfing news, Royden Bryson won the third stop if the Nixon WTA, earning himself a limited edition Nixon timepiece for getting the longest barrel of the Billabong Pro (Spain). The Nixon WTA is novelty series that awards a custom, limited edition Nixon timepiece at four stops on the WCT. Royden is the first South African to win
one, so hats off to him.
Enjoy your Thursday afternoon. Remember that a stranger’s castle of gray skull as real in our heads and hearts as it is in that kid’s dusty garage. Remember someone else’s coca cola is just fizzy cool drink to them, and that ice cold water will quench your thirst for half the price.
It only tasted good when it belonged to someone else and I’ve tried to trace the source of this phenomenon in adults— I think I’ve got it.
At a braai in 1988 with some of my parent’s friends, a kid brought his limited edition Castle of Gray Scull (from the children’s series He-Man and Maters of the Universe). It had all the bells and whistles— lights that flickered, a device that blew steam out the eyes and rooms almost big enough for a five year old to play in. His parents bought it in America a month earlier, and it was the only one of its kind in Port Elizabeth. I couldn’t believe my eyes—it was surely the greatest toy in existence.
As it turned out, this child didn’t even like He-Man that much. He was far more interested in someone else’s whistling yoyo. I saw a gap and moved in quickly. There were three figurines in the castle that I could use: 2 Goodies (He-man and Orko) and a Badie (Beast Man) to annihilate. I stayed in there for hours; after a while I made more characters, using twigs and leaves, furthering the pot line. I even skipped supper, opting to snack on songalolos and ants to maximize my time.
My heart broke when my parents said we were leaving; I knew it would be the last I saw of that amazing castle. But then I noticed all the kids were sad to leave. The one who brought the castle was gutted about parting ways with someone else’s yoyo. The kid who spent all night jamming on my push scooter felt nailed to the floor, now that he was walking again. A queer boy howled like a wolf when letting go of some girl’s Barbie dolls. It was so strange…
Everyone at this braai went home devastated over losing something that never belonged to them in the first place.
People are weird. When adults drive pimped out cars with fancy tires, lights and oversized engines, or spend heaps of cash on clothing, hairstyles and electric gadgets, are they trying to avoid feeling envious of anyone else. Are they still filling the empty void created after a metaphoric night in Gray Skull? Do we all just want that magical sip of someone else’s Coca-Cola to last forever?
I’m sorry if you feel cheated out of the last 4 minutes. I just needed something else to write about, because there are no waves today. When I tell you its flat and windy, I mean that very literally. I’ve seen bigger waves breaking on Lake Superior. It’s cross shore outside the bay, so that won’t be any good either. If you’re desperate to do something surf oriented, check out Jordy Smith’s section on the new movie ‘Stranger Than Fiction’— http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=sQ6tVSSCjjM. It is unbelievable.
In other surfing news, Royden Bryson won the third stop if the Nixon WTA, earning himself a limited edition Nixon timepiece for getting the longest barrel of the Billabong Pro (Spain). The Nixon WTA is novelty series that awards a custom, limited edition Nixon timepiece at four stops on the WCT. Royden is the first South African to win
one, so hats off to him.
Enjoy your Thursday afternoon. Remember that a stranger’s castle of gray skull as real in our heads and hearts as it is in that kid’s dusty garage. Remember someone else’s coca cola is just fizzy cool drink to them, and that ice cold water will quench your thirst for half the price.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Ode To Charity Shop Worker
I don’t learn from mistakes quickly. In London I wouldn’t carry an umbrella if it wasn’t raining when I left the house. In 4 months I had to buy 17— without one it would look like I swam to work. I’d get to Colliers Wood Station at around 8 AM most mornings, step on to the high street and see gray clouds peering through the first traces of morning light. Minutes later it would be hissing buckets. The lovely Asian lady at the charity shop came to know me well. I’d step inside soaking wet and she’d bust out in chorus, “Herro again! Yooo forget umbrerra— erra erra erra! You sing too, forgetful boy!”
The weather today reminds me a lot of England. It’s expected to pour for most of the morning, with the odd thunder storm and some strong offshore winds. The barometer has dropped quite low, indicating kaka weather till further notice. I had a look at the waves before the fog moved in. Fence has potential to turn on this afternoon when the tide pulls in. Not a reason to fake a case of the jets and ditch school or work, but it looks like it could be fun (2ft or so).
The South African Surfing Team leaves for Portugal today, where they’ll compete in the ISA World Surfing Games (October 11-19). In the Open Men’s division Ryan Payne (from St Francis Bay) was selected as touring captain of the side. Pamela Bowren (also from EP) will be competing in the women’s bodyboarding division. Excellent stuff. If you fancy watching, the Games will be broadcast live over the net via http://www.isasurf.org/.
The SA Team looks like this
Men
Ryan Payne (capt) (Eastern Province)
Devyn Mattheys (Border)
Matthew Kruger (KZN)
Klee Strachan (Southern KZN)
Women
Tarryn Chudleigh (Western Province)
Chantelle Rautenbach (Boland)
Longboard
Matthew Moir (Western Province)
Men’s Bodyboard
Sacha Specker (Western Province)
David Lee (Central KZN)
Women’s Bodyboard
Pamela Bowren (Eastern Province)
Managers
Niezaam Jappie
Mike Sheppard
Coach
Kevin Olsen
There are also a handful of South Africans competing in the Ocean and Earth Ocean & Earth Pro (La Caja de Canarias). You can check the live feed on http://www.aspeurope.com/live/.
Anyhow, I wonder who that special woman is selling an umbrella to these days?
The weather today reminds me a lot of England. It’s expected to pour for most of the morning, with the odd thunder storm and some strong offshore winds. The barometer has dropped quite low, indicating kaka weather till further notice. I had a look at the waves before the fog moved in. Fence has potential to turn on this afternoon when the tide pulls in. Not a reason to fake a case of the jets and ditch school or work, but it looks like it could be fun (2ft or so).
The South African Surfing Team leaves for Portugal today, where they’ll compete in the ISA World Surfing Games (October 11-19). In the Open Men’s division Ryan Payne (from St Francis Bay) was selected as touring captain of the side. Pamela Bowren (also from EP) will be competing in the women’s bodyboarding division. Excellent stuff. If you fancy watching, the Games will be broadcast live over the net via http://www.isasurf.org/.
The SA Team looks like this
Men
Ryan Payne (capt) (Eastern Province)
Devyn Mattheys (Border)
Matthew Kruger (KZN)
Klee Strachan (Southern KZN)
Women
Tarryn Chudleigh (Western Province)
Chantelle Rautenbach (Boland)
Longboard
Matthew Moir (Western Province)
Men’s Bodyboard
Sacha Specker (Western Province)
David Lee (Central KZN)
Women’s Bodyboard
Pamela Bowren (Eastern Province)
Managers
Niezaam Jappie
Mike Sheppard
Coach
Kevin Olsen
There are also a handful of South Africans competing in the Ocean and Earth Ocean & Earth Pro (La Caja de Canarias). You can check the live feed on http://www.aspeurope.com/live/.
Anyhow, I wonder who that special woman is selling an umbrella to these days?
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Cruel
These are the days I felt most frustrated about during high school. The weather is magnificent and the waves look really fun across the bay (and most of the Eastern Cape, my sources tell me). But the wind (SW) is expected to come up by this afternoon. By the time scholars get to the beach, it will already be crowded, windy and no where near as perfect as it is right now.
I’m pretty sure this sort of disappointment filters through all sporting activities. Whether you are busting for a game of touch rugby, a swim at the local swimming pool or a fiddle in the new veggie garden, odds are you’re feeling cheated out of good weather. So my heart goes out to anyone staring out the window of a muggy classroom or office, wondering why people chose to use the best hours of every day at work.
I’ll have more to say this afternoon. Right now I’m going to take advantage of the conditions I kept missing in high school. I tried to take a photograph of the waves, but the glare is a bit bright still.
I’m pretty sure this sort of disappointment filters through all sporting activities. Whether you are busting for a game of touch rugby, a swim at the local swimming pool or a fiddle in the new veggie garden, odds are you’re feeling cheated out of good weather. So my heart goes out to anyone staring out the window of a muggy classroom or office, wondering why people chose to use the best hours of every day at work.
I’ll have more to say this afternoon. Right now I’m going to take advantage of the conditions I kept missing in high school. I tried to take a photograph of the waves, but the glare is a bit bright still.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Apocalypse Blues
Has anyone been to Sardinia Bay lately? I nearly fell off my leopard when I saw the beach last Friday. The tidemark has moved right up near the road and a few new rock beds have been exposed. It’s like a different beach altogether, which might be the most exciting place to visit in PE since Belizza opened up.
In St. Francis Bay a big chunk of the Anne Avenue parking lot is now under water. It’s bizarre. The area where a shower block used to stand is washed away entirely. A few weeks ago I saw people fishing off the back of a bakkie, because the tide had moved so far up the beach.
True story.
I don’t want to get into hysterics about this. Al Gore gets way too much credit for pointing out (and then sensationalizing) the obvious, and I strongly doubt the end is nigh. Some practical action need to happen though. The new Hybrid cars from Lexus and Pure Organic products sold by soccer-mom supermarkets aren’t going to stop the ocean from wrecking houses. I’m not saying its bogus to assume the global climate isn’t changing, but there is no need to get all Chicken Licken about it. The sky isn’t falling, but earthquakes, hurricanes and shifting tide lines are causing more hassles than our rubber factories are worth.
A classic example of municipal buffoonery is the St Francis Bay Beach Restoration Project. Residents and holiday makers have watched the beach erode further every year, swearing something will be done about it soon. And every year there is a different excuse about why nothing happened. The project has stayed a pie in the sky, while the owners of sea facing houses sweat heavier bullets every year. Between hearsay about a new pier, building an artificial reef and summoning an army of magical beavers to put together a damn wall, nothing has been done.
In St. Francis Bay a big chunk of the Anne Avenue parking lot is now under water. It’s bizarre. The area where a shower block used to stand is washed away entirely. A few weeks ago I saw people fishing off the back of a bakkie, because the tide had moved so far up the beach.
True story.
I don’t want to get into hysterics about this. Al Gore gets way too much credit for pointing out (and then sensationalizing) the obvious, and I strongly doubt the end is nigh. Some practical action need to happen though. The new Hybrid cars from Lexus and Pure Organic products sold by soccer-mom supermarkets aren’t going to stop the ocean from wrecking houses. I’m not saying its bogus to assume the global climate isn’t changing, but there is no need to get all Chicken Licken about it. The sky isn’t falling, but earthquakes, hurricanes and shifting tide lines are causing more hassles than our rubber factories are worth.
A classic example of municipal buffoonery is the St Francis Bay Beach Restoration Project. Residents and holiday makers have watched the beach erode further every year, swearing something will be done about it soon. And every year there is a different excuse about why nothing happened. The project has stayed a pie in the sky, while the owners of sea facing houses sweat heavier bullets every year. Between hearsay about a new pier, building an artificial reef and summoning an army of magical beavers to put together a damn wall, nothing has been done.
Maybe the only way of getting everyone’s attention is to sensationalize the facts. But it still seems like we have two kinds of people commenting on the issue of Global Climate Change— those that swear earth will disintegrate in the next four years and those that don’t think it’s financially viable to do anything about it. Regardless, it’s making everyone crazy.
Anyhoo, enough about that.
The wind is blowing a hoolie today. It’s a South Easter with fangs. Fence is a wash of white horses and foam. Surfing might be out of the question today, but as soon as the wind turns off shore (it’s expected to happen on Wednesday) there should be some decent wind swell around.
Lastly, EP might suck at rugby, but province did pretty well at the SA Junior Surfing Champs last weekend at St. Mikes, in KZN. They placed 3rd overall, behind KZN and WP.
Here are all the results:
FULL RESULTS
U18 BOYS
1. MATTHEW BROMLEY (WP)
2. CHAD DU TOIT (KZN)
3. BRENDAN GIBBENS (WP)
4. SHAWN DENNIS (KZN)
U18 GIRLS
1. CHANTELLE RAUTENBACH (BOL)
2. KIRSTY DELPORT (KZN)
3. ALICE MCGREGOR (BOR)
4. FAYE ZOETMULDER (EP)
U16 BOYS
1. DAVEY BRAND (WP)
2. MICHAEL FEBRUARY (WP)
3. JACOB MELLISH (BOL)
4. DEVIN LANE (KZN)
U16 GIRLS
1. BIANCA BUITENDAG (S/CAPE)
2. HEIDI PALMBOOM (KZN)
2. TANIKA HOFFMAN (WP)
3. HOLLY ARMSTRONG (WP)
U14 BOYS
1. SLADE PRESTWICH (KZN)
2. STEVEN SAWYER (EP)
3. DYLAN LIGHTFOOT (EP)
4. DIRAN ZAKARIAN (BOL)
U14 GIRLS
1. SARAH BAUM (KZN)
2. CARRYN MACNICOL (KZN)
3. COURTENAY ELLISH (SKZN)
4. ROXY GILES (S/CAPE)
U12 BOYS
1. BENJI BRAND (WP)
2. MAX ARMSTRONG (WP)
3. JASON HARRIS (KZN)
4. MATTHEW MCGILLIVRAY (EP)
U12 GIRLS
1. INGE MCLAREN (BOR)
2. ANOUSH ZAKARIAN (BOL)
3. TAHRA UREN (EP)
4. CHANELLE BOTHA (SKZN)
FREEDOM CUP
1. KZN 40,740
2. WESTERN PROVINCE 38,486
3. EASTERN PROVINCE 32,442
4. BOLAND 30,078
5. SOUTHERN KZN 27,592
6. BORDER 26,506
7. SOUTHERN CAPE 26,230
8. DEVELOPMENT ACADEMY TEAM 18,040
SURFER OF THE CONTEST
KHAYELIHLHLE NCGOBO (SKZN)
MOST IMPROVED SURFER
SIMO MKHIZE (SKZN)
SPORTSMANSHIP TROPHY
AMY BOSWORTH (WP)
ZIG ZAG BLOWING UP AWARD
SARAH BAUM (KZN)
BEST TEAMKWAZULU-NATA
Anyhoo, enough about that.
The wind is blowing a hoolie today. It’s a South Easter with fangs. Fence is a wash of white horses and foam. Surfing might be out of the question today, but as soon as the wind turns off shore (it’s expected to happen on Wednesday) there should be some decent wind swell around.
Lastly, EP might suck at rugby, but province did pretty well at the SA Junior Surfing Champs last weekend at St. Mikes, in KZN. They placed 3rd overall, behind KZN and WP.
Here are all the results:
FULL RESULTS
U18 BOYS
1. MATTHEW BROMLEY (WP)
2. CHAD DU TOIT (KZN)
3. BRENDAN GIBBENS (WP)
4. SHAWN DENNIS (KZN)
U18 GIRLS
1. CHANTELLE RAUTENBACH (BOL)
2. KIRSTY DELPORT (KZN)
3. ALICE MCGREGOR (BOR)
4. FAYE ZOETMULDER (EP)
U16 BOYS
1. DAVEY BRAND (WP)
2. MICHAEL FEBRUARY (WP)
3. JACOB MELLISH (BOL)
4. DEVIN LANE (KZN)
U16 GIRLS
1. BIANCA BUITENDAG (S/CAPE)
2. HEIDI PALMBOOM (KZN)
2. TANIKA HOFFMAN (WP)
3. HOLLY ARMSTRONG (WP)
U14 BOYS
1. SLADE PRESTWICH (KZN)
2. STEVEN SAWYER (EP)
3. DYLAN LIGHTFOOT (EP)
4. DIRAN ZAKARIAN (BOL)
U14 GIRLS
1. SARAH BAUM (KZN)
2. CARRYN MACNICOL (KZN)
3. COURTENAY ELLISH (SKZN)
4. ROXY GILES (S/CAPE)
U12 BOYS
1. BENJI BRAND (WP)
2. MAX ARMSTRONG (WP)
3. JASON HARRIS (KZN)
4. MATTHEW MCGILLIVRAY (EP)
U12 GIRLS
1. INGE MCLAREN (BOR)
2. ANOUSH ZAKARIAN (BOL)
3. TAHRA UREN (EP)
4. CHANELLE BOTHA (SKZN)
FREEDOM CUP
1. KZN 40,740
2. WESTERN PROVINCE 38,486
3. EASTERN PROVINCE 32,442
4. BOLAND 30,078
5. SOUTHERN KZN 27,592
6. BORDER 26,506
7. SOUTHERN CAPE 26,230
8. DEVELOPMENT ACADEMY TEAM 18,040
SURFER OF THE CONTEST
KHAYELIHLHLE NCGOBO (SKZN)
MOST IMPROVED SURFER
SIMO MKHIZE (SKZN)
SPORTSMANSHIP TROPHY
AMY BOSWORTH (WP)
ZIG ZAG BLOWING UP AWARD
SARAH BAUM (KZN)
BEST TEAMKWAZULU-NATA
Friday, October 3, 2008
Bully for Slater
Kelly Slater won his ninth world title today. Holy snakes. That makes him the record holder for most titles won, youngest surfer to be world champ (20, back in ’92) and now the oldest (36 this year—simple math, duh…).
I’m not sure what to say about the matter. In next month’s issue of every surfing magazine available (on planet earth), someone will have a description of how great Kelly Slater is. And I agree. He is. The greatest, even. Human freak show. Possible alien. Genius talent. I could go on.
So well done, Kelly Slater. Your parents must be very proud.
But even though the world title race is over, the Billabong Pro at Mundaka is not. Competition got as far as the quarter finals today. The event should finish tomorrow, provided the wave stick around (which seems likely).
Our Proudly South African moment came from Royden Bryson (Slummies)— he holds the highest heat score of the event (19.37 out of 20) so far. Bryson caned his round 2 heat, with a perfect 10 and a 9.37 back up score, taking out Damian Hobgood (USA).
Back in PE, there weren’t exceptional waves today. If you were busy all day (like myself) and never got a chance to surf, here is a photo that will make you feel better. It’s Pipe at around 4:30PM.
See you at the pub.
I’m not sure what to say about the matter. In next month’s issue of every surfing magazine available (on planet earth), someone will have a description of how great Kelly Slater is. And I agree. He is. The greatest, even. Human freak show. Possible alien. Genius talent. I could go on.
So well done, Kelly Slater. Your parents must be very proud.
But even though the world title race is over, the Billabong Pro at Mundaka is not. Competition got as far as the quarter finals today. The event should finish tomorrow, provided the wave stick around (which seems likely).
Our Proudly South African moment came from Royden Bryson (Slummies)— he holds the highest heat score of the event (19.37 out of 20) so far. Bryson caned his round 2 heat, with a perfect 10 and a 9.37 back up score, taking out Damian Hobgood (USA).
Back in PE, there weren’t exceptional waves today. If you were busy all day (like myself) and never got a chance to surf, here is a photo that will make you feel better. It’s Pipe at around 4:30PM.
See you at the pub.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Work
I finally realize the kind of artistic anguish a weatherman might experience. When Saakie the weather guy starts using a French loaf as a pointer or wearing flippers to show you it’s rainy, you know the poor man is crying to spice things up.
There are only so many ways a guy can say the waves are really small and it’s windy outside. Because that’s what it is. You can go down and have a look, but you’ll probably squint your eyes in the glare and say, “Juss, its kak” before driving back home.
Doing the surf report must be infuriatingly monotonous. My brothers and I used to suspect Turtle Morris had a video camera set up near the harbor parking lot. After reporting that Fence was fife foot and sucking bellow sea level, he’d watch swarms of surfers swerve through the 5 o clock traffic, desperate to squash a wave in before dark. Of course there’d be no waves and everyone there would cuss the corporate world for making us work during the best hours of the day. “Ag man, I bet it was sick at about three o clock, before this bloody westerly blew all the swell to China!” someone would say. Meanwhile, Turtle’s got his feet up on the couch, watching the best kind of reality television available to humankind.
Anyhow, Round 2 of the Billabong is on today. Mundaka is around 4 feet and it looks pretty fun. It’s not cooking, but still decent. I was reading Bede Dubrige’s blog on the ASP website (http://www.aspworldtour.com/) and he had similar sentiments about Mundaka as a venue. It’s too fickle and tidal, but the potential for perfection is there.
Slater has to win his next heat to take the world title a ninth time, but this will only happen tomorrow (more than likely). Ricky Basnett, Jordy Smith and Travis Logie (all from Durban) are surfing later in the morning.
There are only so many ways a guy can say the waves are really small and it’s windy outside. Because that’s what it is. You can go down and have a look, but you’ll probably squint your eyes in the glare and say, “Juss, its kak” before driving back home.
Doing the surf report must be infuriatingly monotonous. My brothers and I used to suspect Turtle Morris had a video camera set up near the harbor parking lot. After reporting that Fence was fife foot and sucking bellow sea level, he’d watch swarms of surfers swerve through the 5 o clock traffic, desperate to squash a wave in before dark. Of course there’d be no waves and everyone there would cuss the corporate world for making us work during the best hours of the day. “Ag man, I bet it was sick at about three o clock, before this bloody westerly blew all the swell to China!” someone would say. Meanwhile, Turtle’s got his feet up on the couch, watching the best kind of reality television available to humankind.
Anyhow, Round 2 of the Billabong is on today. Mundaka is around 4 feet and it looks pretty fun. It’s not cooking, but still decent. I was reading Bede Dubrige’s blog on the ASP website (http://www.aspworldtour.com/) and he had similar sentiments about Mundaka as a venue. It’s too fickle and tidal, but the potential for perfection is there.
Slater has to win his next heat to take the world title a ninth time, but this will only happen tomorrow (more than likely). Ricky Basnett, Jordy Smith and Travis Logie (all from Durban) are surfing later in the morning.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Notes from the School Holiday in PE
Its school holidays at the moment. You can smell it everywhere. The Bridge Shopping Centre was like a biltong flavoured teen movie yesterday. Tables full of awkward teens were gathered at the Steers, nursing ice creams and milkshakes; some naughty kids got busted trying to run up the escalator that goes down; young girls were walking around with bags of new clothes. You know the scene.
I can’t believe how popular long hair and skateboarding have become.
Skating was always a substitute activity for surfers when the waves were kak— which is pretty often in PE. But it was an underground, rebellious pastime. Your boards had to stay in the garage or out of sight.
We’d ride up and down the streets of Walmer or Mill Park, pretending to get barreled in shrubberies or doing airs off the pavement. It was hardcore. House wives, Grannies and shop owners would chase us down the road with wooden spoons or metal rulers, screaming, “You bloody kids are making scrape marks on my stoep!” and so on.
Anyways, so I was browsing through Musica yesterday when this swarm of (+-) 12 year olds walked in with a stern looking mother. All of them (except the mom) had long, dark hair hanging in their faces and were holding skateboards. I wanted to warn them and be like, “Jussis guys, your old lady is right there! Stash the boards near the dance music section; she’ll never suspect a thing!” I held my tongue though, waiting for them to get a scolding.
Instead mommy walked them over to the rock music stand and picked out a CD full of swear words and teenage angst, and they all left jovially. Shocking, but also strangely cool.
I took the dogs for a walk on the beach this morning. The weather is perfect outside, but there is hardly a drop of swell. The waves at Kings Beach were about three goat’s feet. All the spots that work on a north easterly must be really fun though, if you’re prepared to take a drive. The reserve, Blue Horizon Bay and Ducks are probably the only places worth a look on the PE side of the Eastern Cape. Otherwise Port Alfred and East London will be worth checking out before the wind gets too strong.
The Billabong Pro (Mundaka, Spain) started today. The waves look similar to PE, but it’s still an exciting event to watch. I’ve never surfed at Mundaka, or even been to Spain, but it seems like this particular tournament is plagued by kak waves every year. I’ve seen video footage and pictures of Mundaka firing. And the advert for the contest has a picture of Joel Parkinson getting monstrously barreled by a Mundaka Cyclops, but the waves are always appalling. Maybe a change of venue or time frame for the event is necessary? I don’t know. I probably sound like one of those guys that played high school rugby you see at Barney during Super 14 games. He’s the guy wearing a Sharks jersey, nursing his 4th pint before the match has started, swearing he knows the way to victory for our boys in Green.
Whatever. I checked the Spanish surf report online, and it said the swell would get better towards Friday, so maybe I'll eat my words. I’m sure Al Hunt and the boys at ASP wouldn’t even care. Jordon Smith’s heat is just about to start, so I’m going to put on a green singlet, pour myself a drink and start shouting.
I can’t believe how popular long hair and skateboarding have become.
Skating was always a substitute activity for surfers when the waves were kak— which is pretty often in PE. But it was an underground, rebellious pastime. Your boards had to stay in the garage or out of sight.
We’d ride up and down the streets of Walmer or Mill Park, pretending to get barreled in shrubberies or doing airs off the pavement. It was hardcore. House wives, Grannies and shop owners would chase us down the road with wooden spoons or metal rulers, screaming, “You bloody kids are making scrape marks on my stoep!” and so on.
Anyways, so I was browsing through Musica yesterday when this swarm of (+-) 12 year olds walked in with a stern looking mother. All of them (except the mom) had long, dark hair hanging in their faces and were holding skateboards. I wanted to warn them and be like, “Jussis guys, your old lady is right there! Stash the boards near the dance music section; she’ll never suspect a thing!” I held my tongue though, waiting for them to get a scolding.
Instead mommy walked them over to the rock music stand and picked out a CD full of swear words and teenage angst, and they all left jovially. Shocking, but also strangely cool.
I took the dogs for a walk on the beach this morning. The weather is perfect outside, but there is hardly a drop of swell. The waves at Kings Beach were about three goat’s feet. All the spots that work on a north easterly must be really fun though, if you’re prepared to take a drive. The reserve, Blue Horizon Bay and Ducks are probably the only places worth a look on the PE side of the Eastern Cape. Otherwise Port Alfred and East London will be worth checking out before the wind gets too strong.
The Billabong Pro (Mundaka, Spain) started today. The waves look similar to PE, but it’s still an exciting event to watch. I’ve never surfed at Mundaka, or even been to Spain, but it seems like this particular tournament is plagued by kak waves every year. I’ve seen video footage and pictures of Mundaka firing. And the advert for the contest has a picture of Joel Parkinson getting monstrously barreled by a Mundaka Cyclops, but the waves are always appalling. Maybe a change of venue or time frame for the event is necessary? I don’t know. I probably sound like one of those guys that played high school rugby you see at Barney during Super 14 games. He’s the guy wearing a Sharks jersey, nursing his 4th pint before the match has started, swearing he knows the way to victory for our boys in Green.
Whatever. I checked the Spanish surf report online, and it said the swell would get better towards Friday, so maybe I'll eat my words. I’m sure Al Hunt and the boys at ASP wouldn’t even care. Jordon Smith’s heat is just about to start, so I’m going to put on a green singlet, pour myself a drink and start shouting.
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