The 100th Blog

Quiksilver and Billabong joined hands momentarily to put together a film about Kelly Slater and Andy Irons’s rivalry a few years back. It’s called “A Fly in the Champaign.”
This is a marvelous idea and really big of both companies.



Locally, Zigzag have been on top form with their website (www.zigzag.co.za). There’s a kief selection of videos, ranging from interviews, to trip footage, to contest stuff. The west coast trip with Royden Bryson and Andrew Lange looks fantastic.

Lastly, the hot weather looks to be sticking around for another few days. Later in the weekend the swell is expected to rise to 3 meters (out to sea), so let’s hold thumbs for some waves this weekend. It’s the Eastern Province Trials (senior team) on Sunday at Seals, so it’d be cool to see them held in decent conditions. I’ll have some photos of that on Monday morning.

Friday Checkpoint

Next week the World Tour begins its 2009 season with the Quiksilver Pro on the Gold Coast of Australia. Surfing related websites are inundated with predictions, rookie interviews and pre season hype right now.

Near the top of the pile is Jordy Smith’s new sponsorship with Red Bull. www.surfersvillage.com has a good interview with him, covering all the finer details.

The bay looks pretty flat right now, but the people at windguru.com bring good tidings for the weekend. The wind is expected to swing and the swell to rise a meter by Sunday.
Here’s a picture of a shorebreak I got from Brett. Have a jolly weekend, folks.

Ice Cream Headaches and Cornish Pasties

I’ve been getting daily Surfers Village (www.surfersvillage.com) news letters for the last few months. Most of the time its interesting stuff, like breakthrough technology that has passed field tests, photographs from sponsored trips and general surf industry news.

Today a headline caught my eye: “C-Skins Wetsuits signs up U.K. champ Reubin Pearce…” There’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. From Cape Town originally, he was one of the top junior surfers during the mid to late nineties. I remember him surfing for Milnerton High School at SA Schools in 1997. Pretty cool that he’s the current UK Champ.

I checked out the C-Skins website and was really impressed by the range of products they offer and the layout of the site. In a country where the weather is as shocking as it is in England, I suppose good wetsuits would go a long way. I got another surprise when I looked up the other team members and saw a picture of Blue Water Bay’s Clinton Fraser. There’s another name I haven’t heard in a long time— not since Groundswell surf club days. He’s another one of C-skins team riders.

You can say what you like about going to England to work, save money and travel etc. It’s an experience that works for some people and doesn’t for others. Hats off to these chaps who are doing it a bit differently.

Viva Le Commercial Resistance’!

Between Friday and Sunday there were some of the best waves I’ve seen at The Fence in a long time. Lines of A-framed peaks bounced off the harbor wall and spun perfectly across the sand banks. Running down King’s Beach at 6AM on Saturday morning was like staring into a crystal ball that took you all the way back to ’97.

I’d like to send my best wishes to everyone infected with the merciless strain of stomach flue that swept PE on Saturday morning. Cripes, it must have been awful. And so many of you got it, too, all at the same time… My heart bled lumpy custard for you, as I stroked into one empty peak after the next.

I know you all wanted to be there. Last week everyone with girlfriends and boyfriends was claiming a cool indifference towards Valentines Day: No way, it’s a commercial; gimmick; My shnookims doesn’t care if I don’t buy her/ him a stupid card and a bunch of flowers; We don’t put a price tag on our relationship, Wadda wadda fish paste. I guess your immune systems just weren’t up to the challenge this pesky stomach flu presented.

God speed and a swift recovery, my friends :)

Jo Jo's Unlucky Line- Snapping Incident

“It’s going to be a stuff up! Shame upon South Africa! That’s what this monstrosity will cause, I can feel it!” bellowed Andrew Jenkinson. He was ranting about the soccer world cup as usual. Jenkinson loved to shout about social and political things.

“No boet, it’ll be amazing. It’s going to be an African world cup. Tourists have been coming here for donkeys ears. They love the place like it is. We can’t have a fancy Euro style tournament, because that’s not how things work around here. It’ll be perfect, you’ll see,” answered Ripley Amazondotcom.

They sat chatting in their flat, watching a fishing documentary: Rock Cod Diaries, the journey of Jo Jo La Patience.

“Don’t ‘no boet’ me. What about the taxi violence now? That’s just the beginning. You think this is going to stop any time soon? Those cretins need a bloody good hiding for tearing up the city! How could they burn clinics down? What will they do when the World Cup starts? Burn a stadium down?” Jenkison glared at his friend, expecting a decent response.

“It’s not that simple. The matter will be resolved before then. It has to be for everyone’s sake. Burning clinics down is outrageous…” said Ripley, gathering his thoughts.

“What for? It’s a no brainer. The taxis can mess off. What business do they have with the world cup?” asked Jenkinson.

Jo Jo La Patience was drifting over giant sea swells on the Pacific, sitting calmly in his speed boat with two rods dangling over the side and a pipe in his mouth.

“You’re not looking at the big picture. It’s like this,” said Ripley, “the BRT will exclude taxis during and after the 2010 Soccer bonanza. Who wouldn’t be hosed off about that? People across our country rely on taxis every day, and to exclude them from something this big is wrong. PE (and every other major city in SA) gears down from 5th to 1st gear without taxis. Failure to represent them during the World Cup shows an incomplete picture of our urban transport culture. The strike is completely understandable, but the violence is unacceptable. That much I agree with you on.” Less prone to ranting, Ripley based many of views on personal feelings.

“Don’t start your hippie none sense with me! They called off the strike after the army was deployed yesterday. They don’t have the courage of their convictions. If you’re going to make a point, make it and stand by your actions. This business of raising hell and then running away is cowardice,” said Jenkinson, going red in the face.

“That’s helluva swak. Again, I’m not saying I agree with the violence, but there has to be a way of making our country see that the BRT system excludes taxis. If they take the matter lying down, they’ll be left out,” said Amazondotcom.

Jo Jo La Patience watches his rod dipping. Suddenly he strikes! He’s got a beast on the end of his line, and starts reeling it in.

“No no no no. that’s horse kak. How can the taxi operators say they want to be a part of the world cup when they don’t form part of any system?” said Jenkinson.

“What do you mean?”

Suddenly Jo Jo other rod is dipping. He’s got two fish on the go is starting to look flustered.

“They don’t participate in anything orderly. How can they represent us on the global stage when taxis are a law unto themselves? They’re overloaded regularly, go through red lights, drive faster than the limit and sommer stop anywhere in the road so they can overload some more. How many drivers do you think have real licences, too?” Andrew Jenkinson took a deep breath, thinking he’d won the debate.

“That’s generalizing a bit,” answered Ripley Aamazondotcom, after a beat. "Besides, your parents bought you a car when you were seventeen and you drove it without a licence the whole year."

“That's completely different! Are you blind? That’s not generalization, boet! I just summed the whole lot up with a reporter’s accuracy!” exploded Jenkinson.

"Weren't you fined R800 last year for doing 170 down Cape Road?" asked Amazondotcom.


Jo Jo La Patience ’s lines snap. He’s lost both fish and is cursing the heavens. He sits back down and baits up again.

"Shut up, man. You're such a bunny hugger." said Jenkinson.

“That was close, ey? Jo Jo almost bagged two in one,” said Ripley.

“Ja, lank close. It’s almost impossible to do though. You can only fight one big fish at a time,” said Andrew.

“True story. Ching to see who drives to the shop?" answered Ripley Amazondotcom, turning the volume up to hear Jo Jo’s post line-snapping analysis.

Siamese Twins

You know, Kgalema's Motlanthe's run as president of South Africa reminds me a lot of CJ Hobgood’s 2001 World Title. The circumstances are different (duh, surfing and politics are as similar as fried eggs and steel wool), but it’s the sentiment of these two roles that I’m talking about.

After the Twin Towers were attacked in 2001, the World Tour was cut short and CJ Hobgood was declared world champion (he was the ratings leader at the time). He’s an incredible surfer and more than capable of winning a world title during a full year of competition. He hasn’t finished lower than 19th in the last ten years on tour, and five of those years he’s been in the top 10. Yet when people talk about 2001, he doesn’t get the full World Title Holder respect he deserves. A lot of people say things good have gone differently had the tour run its full course that year.

Now, fast forward to 2008. Thabo Mbeki was forced to resign after inter-parliamentary mutiny took place. So an acting president was sworn into the saddle until new elections take place the following year. Many people don’t recognize Kgalema's Motlanthe’s role as president of our country. Yes, he's the acting president, but that's better than no president at all. I was talking to folks the other day who didn’t even know his name! He’s a solid candidate. His credentials on paper are impeccable: Over 30 years of political experience, 10 years on Robben Island and experience working for the City Council in Johannesburg.

I’m not saying this as a CJ Hobgood fan, or an ANC supporter. It’s just an observation. Both Hobgood and Motlanthe have just played the hand history dealt and I think it’s strange that both have been slightly snuffed by some.

Sam 'Big Bucks' Mazambulo

Sam ‘Big Bucks’ Mazambulo read my palms yesterday. She told me not to make a funny face when the wind changes direction. “Stay the course, child of light. I sense indecision in your aura. You don’t want to end up cross eyed when the wind turns westerly.”

“You’re crazy, Big Bucks,” I said, “I don’t know why I asked you to be my psychic. Let’s play monopoly. The tide will be high in an hour, so there’s time for a quick round.”

‘Big Bucks’ is horrible at board games, but she speaks the truth. I’m as indecisive as anyone can possibly be about everything. I met her in the parking lot at Greenacres when I was 20. A group of abortion protestors didn’t take kindly to the open discussion I suggested. The crowd turned on me as soon as I mentioned ‘pro choice’ as a debatable point. It was weird. A great big mob of people, wielding signs that said ‘Killing Babies Is Wrong’, running after a little pip squeak like me. “I’ll rip your voice box out, heathen scum!” screamed the lady in charge.

That was when Sam Mazambulo joined the party. She was PE’s first car guard. She taught herself Taekwando, Ninjutusu and kick boxing by reading a variety of books, mostly penned by her hero, the great Billy Blanks— mainstream advocate of the ‘One Inch Punch’. Anyhow, this is a bit off the topic. ‘Big Bucks’ came to my rescue and issued a series of One Inch Punches to the heavy weight that had me in a choke hold. The man dropped like a bag of soil, uninjured, but in a great deal of physical pain.

Afterwards she explained to the mob why she was forced to use a pinch of violence, and that she was sorry things ended that way. She helped most of them to their cars and made R600 in tips in the process— Hence the name ‘Big Bucks’. Meanwhile, I was still on the pavement, bent in half and puking up chunks of breakfast. We’ve been pals since.

Today Big Bucks makes more than most senior lawyers in Johannesburg. Palm reading, Gymkhana and long distance hop scotch (all of which she excels at) are some of her more recent endeavors she does for pleasure. Kicking ass and making friends is still her full time job, though.

Anyhow, back to yesterday’s palm reading and monopoly show down. I was building hotels in Eloff Street before Sam could say Macaroni. The hours passed quickly, and before I knew it I was late for my afternoon appointment with the sandbanks at Fence.
“Big Bucks, I’ve got to vuma lapa broe, waves are coming,” I said, pointing at the sea.
“Ah, always doing two things at once. You’re not going to get to the beach and realize there’s a TV program you’re missing?”
“Never! TV rots your mind!” I snapped.
“That’s not the point,” said Big Bucks, smiling at walking me out.

I had a strange surf yesterday; it felt like I had two right legs. Sam Mazambulo always makes a point and keeps you thinking days later. She gives the advice people need. Oprah and Dr. Phill can’t offer you that sort of wisdom.

Anyhow, be mindful of car guards today. Sam Mazambulo has eyes on the back of her head and will keep your belongings safe. You’ll find her at the Fence parking lot, this afternoon when the tide is high, and she doesn't ask for much. Just a few bucks is all you need to remember.

***
If anyone is looking to kill time at work, the Hang Loose Pro is on in Brazil, at a place called Fernando de Noronha. The web site is all in Portuguese, so it’s a bit tricky navigating your way round, but it’s a contest well worth watching.

http://www.hangloose.com.br/noronha/pt/index.php?p=aovivo

Heinz Catches A Big One

This Zambezi Shark was caught in the Breede River during an expedition this year (http://www.sharkconservancy.org/zambezi.html).

I don’t like this one little bit. Being attacked by a bull shark in a river would really upset me. Being stacked by any shark anywhere would really upset me, but I’d be especially hosed off if I was fishing or wakeboarding when it happened.

I heard a story a few years ago. I’m sure you know it, or a version of it, so please bear with me. A German tourist, Heinz, was holidaying in Plett with his wife, Dee, and their young son, Alex. On a sunny December afternoon, not unlike today, Heinz went swimming with Alex in the shallows at Lookout Beach.

Alex was having a ball in the mighty Indian Ocean, learning to body surf and blow bubbles, when a Ragged Tooth Shark (probably Alex’s age in shark years) bit him on the leg. The sound of Alex’s shrieks was enough to send Heinz into a rage.

After ensuring his son’s safety, Heinz combed the area, looking for the perpetrator. He did eventually found a shark (whether or not it The shark was unspecified), and pulled it to shore by the tail. One they were on dry land, Heinz set to work dishing out punishment. Just like Pop-eye, Heinz picked the beast up and swung it around his head (amongst other things).
Heinz got a few nasty cuts in the end, too, but that is to be expected when you’re pistol whipping a Ragged Tooth Shark. Alex was fine in the end, but the same cannot be said for the shark or Heinz, who felt terrible about letting his son’s life fall into danger.

This is all neither here nor there. My point is that I’d probably react very similarly if I were attacked by a shark in a river. I wouldn’t go back and take a Bull Shark on in a bare knuckle dual, but it would take all of god’s morphine to calm the inner rage I’d feel if I lost a leg. Or an arm. If I died— I’m fairly certain I’d haunt the kak out of the river shark that did it if I died.

On the other hand, it would be the ultimate irony to get eaten whole by a shark while fishing.

Have a good weekend, everyone.

Emslie Signs with Derevko

South African WCT surfer, Greg Emslie, has just signed with Derevko Wetsuits, a new local company. This is great news for local manufacturers looking to compete with international big shots like Billabong, QS. It's really cool to see our country's surfing leaders backing local brands.

check out:

http://www.zigzag.co.za/site/awdep.asp&depnum=27636_47_11_A3

for the full story.

Hanging Out At The Boardwalk

The Information Super Highway of Port Elizabeth is a force to be reckoned with. It matches the Internet in terms of speed, but is beyond machines or electricity— it’s in our minds. When someone tells a story in PE, people ask “who?” first, because odds are they know who it’s about. That kind of response is preprogrammed and carried through generations. Science can’t match it.

It was business as usual when word got out about the demolition of Sea Acres Holiday Resort, a popular caravan park/ holiday bungalow jol facing Hobbie Beach. I heard they were going to build the first Space Exploration Centre there, or a skate park and a church, or just a big statue of Nelson Mandela. No one knew for months, but the guessing game got outrageous. “No man, they’re building a water park,” Kendrick Steiner, a famous tall story teller from school, told me, “The biggest slide’s going to be as high as the Campanile… that’s what they’re going to call it- Campanile Water Park. Ja, and there’s going to be a Great White pool, where trainers will make those unholy bastards jump through hoops like they do with dolphins at Sea World. I swear, my dad told me this stuff. He’s not a liar.”

Eventually it became known that PE would be getting a Casino complex, one that would match the fire power of Cape Town’s V and A Waterfront and Jo Burg’s Century City. They would call it, ‘The Boardwalk’. Jussie, I was excited. Everything was going to change once the Boardwalk was finished. It was going to put us on the map. We’d get more bands coming to PE, for starters. “Brian Adams and Westlife can get lost. I heard Metallica and U2 are coming to the Boardwalk’s opening NIGHT,” said Kendrick, after hearing about the casino.

I was in Matric when the doors to The Boardwalk opened, and found myself having a great year so far. High school was almost over, I’d made the EP senior surfing team, I was old enough to drink (after getting bounced from every pub in PE until I turned 18), I got my drivers license (3rd time lucky) and I was hopelessly in Love with a girl living near my house. She was beautiful, kind and fun. She smiled and my knees wobbled. Every time I spoke to her I mutated into a ham fisted moron who couldn’t speak or sit still.

It was on a rare August afternoon that I came up with a plan to show her I was cool. The sun was baking down after school, without a breath of wind in the air (a complete freak show for PE). I had a three part plan that looked masterful on paper: pick her up in Blou Bliksem (my 1981 VW), go to Humewood beach for a swim (where I could show off my amazing body surfing skills) and then hit The Boardwalk for an ice cream afterwards. What could be simpler?

I summoned my older brother before setting off. He sorted me out with a pair of his shorts and some Lenny Kravitz shades. “Just be careful, Bugs, those shorts have a tricky zipper.” Sure thing. These words would come back to haunt me.

Back to the story though. Phase one and two of my plan went swimmingly, so to speak.
I managed to get Blou Bliksem to the beach without stalling or getting lost. At the beach, we frolicked and splashed each other in the shallows; we spoke and laughed like old friends who’d known each other since time began. She smiled at me and I managed not to die. I was higher than a homeless man with a liter of petrol and cabana bottle of sniffing glue.

By the time phase 3 of my operation was underway, we were holding hands on a regular basis. All that was left was The Boardwalk.

***

Dulce’s is a good 200 meters (or so, I suppose) away from the parking of The Boardwalk. On a sunny day at The Boardwalk, you pass another person every second step. In the Boardwalk’s first month of business, almost every person in PE was there, daily, to check out the amazing new structure that was going to liberate PE from its reputation as a mechanics village.

To say that I was proud while walking beside this amazing young lady would be a gross understatement. I was moonwalking next to her. As we passed a host of onlookers I got funny looks from older patrons and their young ones. I just assumed that the funny grin on my face was unsettling to people.

We had our ice creams and marched through the complex hand in hand, admiring the accomplishments of PE’s architects. It was only once we were ready to leave that I heard sniggers coming from a group of teenagers nearby.

As we passed them, I wondered out loud, “what were they laughing at?” As the words left my mouth, something HORRIBLE became evident, and my brother’s words of warning rang clear in my head.
I looked down and saw (to my awkward 18 year old horror) that my zipper was all the way down, and my entire package was hanging out.
Now, there are moments when something is so terrifying that is silences you. It’s a whole new ballgame when you freak out and scream in terror. I let my Love’s hand go, on impulse, and ran to Blou Bliksem, wailing Blue Murder, where it would take me a good 20 minutes to explain my actions. Like I said earlier, she was fun and kind, so she found it quite funny, but I sure as hell struggled to stomach the incident for a while.

The next day at school, Kendrick Steiner was telling a new story that went something like, “Jussie ous, did you hear about Trussie streaking through The Boardwalk yesterday? Security had to escort him in handcuffs, after they bust him harassing an old lady! By the way, who’s up for Roxette on Friday? I heard Brian Adams is opening for her.”