Showing posts from March, 2011

Sitting on the inside: stories from a slow learner


When I was in high-school, there were two jobs in particular that I was attracted to; forensic scientist and marine biologist. I loved biology and did well in my classes, topping my year more than once. Nerd!

For reasons that don't bear explaining, forensic science piqued my interest when I was about 14, which might go some way to explaining my deep and abiding love for CSI across its many cities, with my order of preference being 1. Las Vegas, 2. New York and then 3. Miami (the least loved of the CSI family). Marine biology is a less interesting teenage dream as, let's admit it, all coastal children aim to live and work in the ocean, contributing to its health. Nonetheless, despite the cliche, it was my direction of choice. After finishing school and being accepted into the course, I deferred study to go travelling, where I met a young man who laughed at my dreams of saving the ocean, one turtle at a time,

Don't be ridiculous, he mocked. You can't do that! You love peop…

Function vs fashion

A snippet of conversation at the pub last night;

Me: So have many of the pro crew been surfing down here since the Noosa festival finished?

Joe: Of course! Loads of them. They're all over The Pass. I was talking to Sam about it the other day, and he reckons he's never seen so many people surfing in denim shorts!

Me: Haha!! How do you even surf in denim?

Suzy: Yeah. The other day, one guy was out in denim shorts and a full button-up shirt, done up to the neck. It certainly didn't look very comfortable.

The white, middle-class burden

I came across this film by Dominic Coleman, over at The Surfer's Path,

More Surfing Videos
A comedian and actor by trade, Coleman explains that creating this cringe-making character, wasn’t actually that difficult for him:
“I started surfing about five years ago and as a landlocked, middle-aged weekend warrior I didn’t have to look too far for inspiration for the character of ‘Michael’. My family all appear playing themselves, again they didn’t have to do too much acting! I also pulled in a few favours from friends like Adrian at Fluid Juice and a few Bantham (Sth Devon) locals who all gave up a bit of time to help out.

“The inspiration for the character did actually come from a guy I met at Bantham. His wife and young daughter were lugging his SUP across the car park as he was chatting boards with another sweeper. He had a brand new T5 that he’d converted. I just thought he was a very funny guy and one of the ‘new’ breed of mid-life escapists who’d been drawn to the sea…

Another postcard (which I received)

It being Friday and all, I thought I'd share a card my friend sent me for christmas. I probably shouldn't love it as much as I do.

Looking at it, it totally reminds me of that perplexing 60s surf film, How To Stuff A Wild Bikini...

The Ninth Wave - no girls allowed?

I sat down at a cafe the other day to find a copy of recently released, The Ninth Wave (compiled by Sean Doherty and presented by Surfing World), sitting on the table. The book is a journey through 100 surfing images, using words from the photographer or the subject to tell the tale behind each photograph. It is very pretty, and a lovely idea.

How much do you bet that I don't find a single woman in this book? I asked my friend as I picked it up. She shrugged.

I flicked through every page of this book and unless I missed something (and I may have), there is not a single image of, nor a single photograph or story by a woman. In 100 hundred images. In 2011. In a publication presented by the Australian surfing magazine that is most supportive of women. In Australia, home to the current and four-time women's world shortboarding champ, Steph Gilmore, as well as one of the most significant female competitive surfers ever, Layne Beachley. In a country with an ever-growing female surfin…

Breathing Blue

I went home a week or so ago. It had been over 6 weeks since I had been anywhere near the ocean, so I had been waiting, aching, dreaming of the moment when I would be in the water again. And a trip home was long overdue.I packed the car and headed south but as I drove out of the city, I realised I had forgotten my board. Forgotten! My board! Instead of tied to my roof, it sat on its side in my garage in Paddington – dry and in the way. I could have kicked myself. My other mal has a ding and I’m embarrassed to admit that I’m too unfit to ride the 7’4” in the strong currents that have been running at the points. But there was no going back. I was on the highway and on my way and it would have meant getting stuck in peak-hour traffic, which is always a nightmare. So I sucked it up. I could always borrow a board if I wanted to.But when I got home, none of that mattered because I didn’t surf. I don’t know why, but I just didn’t feel like it. I felt guilty for not wanting to be…