Forty

So... I turn 40 this month. Where did the years go? What are some things I have learned in the past 40 years? Heres a list of forty things I feel are important.

1) Dont sell yourself short. Trust in yourself...you can do anything you set your mind to.


2) First impressions are important. Make a good one and trust your instincts with others.


3) When you come across people that tell you what to do and what to believe in, walk the other way.


4) Good friends are hard to find. Even more rare are the friends who have your back no matter what.


5) Keep the friends mentioned in #4 close to your heart.


6) Stay the fuck off the train tracks. I cant stress this enough.

Jalama train trestle. Do not go on there...

7) Find your passion in life and always stay connected to it whether in work, play or love.


8) You get one go around at life...live it good.


9) Look at everything as an experience. Good or bad. Soak it up and learn from it.


10) Guacamole is a must when entertaining. Add lime to make it not turn brown.


11) Sand in your bed means you had a fun day.

4th of July 2011

12) Always stop at lemonade stands.

Solid Lemonade Stand

13) Smile often and hug always.

Maddy and Anna

14) Never be afraid to tell someone you love them.

15) Be nice to hobos...sometimes they have the best stories.

Urban Camper by Washington Street

16) Its your life. Dont wait for someone to tell you what to do. Get to it.


17) Lead, dont follow.


18) Travel often and if you must work, do what you love!


19) There are two ships you dont want to be on...a sinking ship and a partnership.


20) Fight for what you believe in. Write letters, go to meetings, use your voice!


21) Older means wiser and more experienced. This comes in handy in the bedroom and at backgammon.


22) Dont act old. At 60, my dad used to say he was the oldest teenager he knew... Stay gold.

Anna

23) Its fun to make new friends. Say hello to someone.

24) A good dog is one of the best friendships you will ever have. RIP Jefferson.

Jefferson

25) Take time to watch sunsets and to sit still.

My moms house

26) The ocean will keep you young. Go surf.

ODB

27) Fijians are the sweetest people on earth.

Tavarua Family

28) Dont forget who you are or where you came from.

Me in a PB alley behind my house 1979

29) Its never too late to find love and start over.

30) The Shawshank Redemption and Big Lebowski are the best movies ever.


31) Snuggles and 10,000 kisses are a great way to wake up or go to bed.


32) Good food, good people and love make for a happy home.

33) Dont be a dick.


34) Make something with your own hands.

My #3 board. A little crooked but it rips

35) Dont be afraid to have your own opinion...even if its unpopular.


36) A good cat cuddle session is always a great stress reliever.

Anna and Gary the Cat

37) Take lots of photos. As you age, they become your memory.


38) Kids are the greatest gift. Learn from their openness and unconditional love. Be silly and laugh.

Bubble Gum Alley SLO

39) Swim in a warm ocean in the tropics and cleanse your soul.

Tavarua

40) Get ready for the second half of life with a smile on your face and love in your heart.

Life and near Death at Little Makaha - 2004

I had spent my life surfing the PB/La Jolla/Cliffs area. Its where I grew up, learned to surf and where I put in the time figuring out each spot and earning my place in the line up. At the time of this story, I was up in North County working all the time but would still jam down and surf my hometown breaks when the surf was good. At work on this day, I had been watching Surfline track a huge low pressure system up in the North Pacific. It was early March and this was looking to be the last big swell of the year, so I watched closely.

There was one big wave spot in La Jolla that I had surfed a handful of times over the years. It only broke on rare occasions but when it did, it could be magic. Over the years Ive seen some pretty epic waves out there and with the swell lining up, I knew it would be huge and perfect.

The day was march 10th, a Thursday if I remember right. This swell turned out to be the same swell that Ghost Tree would became famous. The Northern buoys were 22' at 20 seconds. I knew there would be some huge surf and by the time it made its way to San Diego, it should be clean and not as big. I was hoping for 12'-15' waves. If that was the case, the spot I had in mind would be like Fiji. I was sparked!

Ghost Tree March 2004

A few years earlier I had bought an 8'2" Hamish Graham channel bottom specifically for this wave. I had it in in the corner of my shop just waiting for the day that the spot to be right. As the years went by, I closed my shop and started working in Carlsbad. The board waited patiently to be ridden.

The 8'2" Hamish is on the bottom right.

As word of the swell spread, I left work early and blasted down the coast. I knew it was big as I drove down the I-5 because the occasional glimpses of coastline showed white water way out the back. Soon I arrived, pulled into a spot on a side street and walked down to give it a look. What I saw was a shocker. The wave breaks out far, about a 1/3 of a mile. Normally there is a channel that takes you around the inside wave and you then paddle out to a shallow sandbar in the kelp beds. When I had surfed it before, it was a basic paddle allowing for plenty of time to watch and get a feel for the intervals. On this day, the sets came through often and it looked different than the other times I had watched it. What was normally a perfect left was now a thick sectioning wave. The sets were massive.

I went back to my car, suited up and waxed my five year old virgin gun. I made my way down the old crumbling stair case and onto the rocks. I jumped in. The water was cold and my feet were numbed quickly. It was so big I had to paddle across the cove towards South Bird and make my way out towards the right. The left channel was gone. During my 45 minute paddle I really started to get excited. I had been surfing great and was in good shape. My mindset was right and I was hyped to catch some of the biggest waves of my life. As I neared the lineup, I watched a set approach. It was huge. Thick black lines in a set of 5 waves approached, each wave bigger than the one before. The right had huge barrels spinning off the sandbar into the deep water. The left, which is what I had come for, was horseshoeing like I had never seen. The tide was low, the wind was light off shore and the line up was empty except for me.

Earlier I had seen an old friend paddle out on a 9'6" Brewer but he disappeared to the north. I never did see him out there.  I made my way across the take off area from the right towards the left. A set approached and I spun and paddled for the last wave of a set. It was moving so fast and sucking out so hard that I had no chance to get in. Even If I could have, I didn't want it. It was easily 3 times over head and looking mean, nothing at all like I had surfed it in the past. I pulled back, turned and looked back out to sea. My heart instantly sunk. I felt sick to my stomach. Over a mile away huge black lines raced toward the line up. I wasn't outside by any means and was in the worst spot possible...the wrong side of the peak.

LM a couple years earlier

I put my head down and paddled as hard as I ever have, I was racing to meet the set and hopefully make it over. As I write this, my heart is pounding. What happened next still plays out in slow motion in my mind.

The first wave stood up and was easily 4 times over-head. I paddled hard and was climbing up the face. I had surfed some big waves in Hawaii and Fiji but this was the biggest surf I had ever been in the water with. It was alive with energy and made me feel very small. I just barely got over the first wave as the water droplets were blowing back, blinding me so I couldn't see. I could feel myself going down the back of the wave and as my eyes cleared, I saw the second wave was already standing as tall as a city street light. I didn't make it. It threw out 20 yards in front of me, top to bottom. I remember letting out a laugh because it was so ridiculous. How the hell did I get in this situation? I just got out here for fucks sake. This was going to be bad and I knew it.

I stood on my board and dove off. I got a great breath and swam fast and deep. My leash was 10' long and I felt the tension on my leg as the destruction hit. With my eyes wide open, I looked and saw the plumes coming down toward me. I tried to be calm and relax as much as possible which was futile since I was facing my worst fear. The mushroom cloud exploded and I got pushed down deeper. I waited and waited but the turbulance wasn't ending and I was afraid that if i waited to long, I was going to get a two wave hold down. I fought to make my way up which was not easy. Finally reaching the surface, I saw the most horrible sight...an even bigger wave that was getting ready to land on my head. I had one quick second to get a breath and dove a mere two feet under water and got utterly destroyed. I had almost no breath and my heart was beating out of my chest. I was driven down deep and was instantly panicking and out of air. I was starting to freak out and couldn't make any headway. I was rolling and rag-dolling so fast. I was terrified. I struggled to the surface gasping for sweet air after what seemed like an eternity. I was now in full hyper ventilation mode and tripping out.

Thats when the third wave hit me...
I didn't even make it underwater as it smashed into me. I was out of air and actually breathed out my remaining air as soon as I was pushed down. I fought for the surface. My thoughts went to my kids and what they were going to do without me. I was starting to see the green dots and knew I was in the process of drowning. I remember my father telling me spearfishing stories about fighting fish and seeing the green dots. I remembered my friend David Anderson who had drowned from Shallow water blackout. Then, totally inexplicably, I felt as though a hand pushed me up and for just a split second. I was able to get a quick breath of air before being pulled under. The green dots took over once more and I started fighting with all I had to get to the surface. My body was screaming for air. Every fiber of my being was in survival mode as my third 20 second hold down was almost over.

The feeling of desperation and fear is an overwhelming one. My brain was taking me into these bizarre images and thoughts because it was starved for oxygen. All I kept thinking at that point was why?

Just then I surfaced and was freaking out. I started looking for my board but the ocean wasn't done with me yet as the fourth wave, a wall of white water 15' high, rolled into me. I didnt even get my face underwater.  I didn't have any air and my breathing was fucked. I couldn't fight any longer. I was now starting to black out and felt water in my mouth as I was trying to breathe air that wasn't there. By some luck or miracle, I came up fast and was able to stay near the surface as I rolled. I got pulled under a couple more times but mostly it was minor compared to shit kicking I had just endured from the previous waves.

As I opened my eyes waiting for the next wave to finish me, I saw...nothing. I couldn't believe it. I turned and looked toward shore and to my disbelief my leash had held and my board was close. I was in tears and so fucking scared. I got onto my board and even though I wanted to lay there and rest, I knew I had to get out of there immediately. I started to paddle furiously south towards the channel by the right. Fear was pounding in me as I looked toward the horizon and saw yet another monster set starting to move in fast. The dread was over-powering and I remember audibly saying "NO! NO! NO!" I knew that if I got caught inside, I would die. My breathing was fanatical and totally out of control as I paddled for my life.

LM from above Bird Rock

The first wave stood up as I was almost to the channel, I was going to have to duck dive a 15' wave mid face. The terror was immense as I pushed through the green wall. I thought I was for sure going to go over, but amazingly, I got through it. I just got under the second one in the same way... the next two just missed me as I was finally safe in the channel. As I lay on my board totally exhausted near tears, I couldn't believe what had just happened to me. Sitting there, I watched another set come in well over 20'. The swell was peaking right in front of me. As I watched, I realized I had been dragged underwater for at least 150 yards from where the first wave crushed me. If my board or leash had broke, I have no doubt that I would have died that afternoon.

My whole life I have surfed and never felt like my life was in danger or that I couldn't handle the situation. I had now been brought to my limit and felt humbled and strangely...sad. I pulled my shit together and started paddling further south where I saw a dude who had watched the whole thing go down. I paddled by him as he started to ask how it was. I looked at him with hollow eyes not saying a word and kept paddling. Not wanting any part of it, he started to paddle south as well. Over the next hour as I paddled back in, I replayed the situation over and over and thought of how I felt as though I was pushed back to the surface on the third hold down.

My dad had passed away 15 years earlier and had dove these waters for over forty years and I scattered his ashes in the same area. In fact, for years I would paddle out here and leave roses on the anniversary of his passing. Id like to think he lent me the hand that day because it wasn't my time.

My Dad

As I reached the rocks I got out and looked back. There were now two guys out and I watched one drop into a wave that was easily four times overhead and he got obliterated. I walked to my car very calm and quiet and changed. I looked at this board that I had bought years before specifically for this day and how the only time it was stood upon was when I had to dive off. I drove up the small hill to the lookout and watched one last set. The tide was filling in and the swell was now starting to back down. My friend Rick was there in his car with Binos and told me he saw some of the biggest waves he had ever seen out there and that he had watched one guy get destroyed. I told him that he had watched me almost drown.

Later, I drove south and watched the swell produce 6' waves inside the Mission Beach Jetties at Molinas and watched Travis and a couple guys get dredging tubes. I wondered why I hadn't gone there or the cliffs. I went home and had a quiet few days. For months after I was totally shell shocked when I would surf and would panic every time I got get caught inside. It was a rough feeling being scared doing something I loved. Over the next months that feeling faded and I got back to normal. I did not, however, want to ride big waves any more. That is firmly behind me as I approach my fortieth year of life.

The Hamish now resides in Birds Surf Shed, It still has yet to be ridden. I do miss that wave at times but Ill never surf it again. Thanks for the hand dad. I owe ya one in the next life.

"Tavarua will Change Your Life" - 1995

In the fall of 1994 I had quite a proposal on my hands. Jon Roseman, the co-owner of Tavarua Island Resort had asked me to come down to Fiji to be one of his boatman. This kind of offer doesn't come along very often, if ever. It was a dream I had ever since I started surfing. Seriously, how many people get to work on an island in the South Pacific thats holding two of the worlds best waves? The answer was me, all I had to do was get there.

Tavarua, Fiji

Jon had been coming into the surf shop I was working at for many years, he and the owner were good friends and I got to know him during his visits to the store. To this day I am not sure why Jon asked me to make the trip down, but it was an honor to say the least. Over the next few months I kicked around the idea but the reality was I didn't think I could make it. I had a job, a car payment, a girlfriend...I needed to be here because all that is was important wasn't it? Wasn't it??

Luckily Steve Baker, a veteran boatman, came into the shop one day and explained how I was blowing it if I didn't go and that this was a very special opportunity. The words he uttered were: "Tavarua will change your life."

Little did I know how real those words would eventually ring true. I called Jon soon after Baker talked sense into me and asked if the offer was still on the table and if so, I was down. I'm glad I did go because in the years that followed, I had quit that job, sold that car and that girlfriend? Well she became an ex-wife. Time reveals many things to a person but one thing you should always remember is that we only have one go around. Live life while you can and chase your dreams.

Tavarua Boatmen 1995- Ken Lewis, Steven Baker, Terry Stewart and Jon Roseman

 The planning was on and towards the end of the year I quit my job at the surf shop and began working at Rusty Surfboards. The trip was still scheduled for January 95' and the GM at Rustys was cool with me taking a few months off to go on my dream trip. Rusty was stoked I was going as well and when I asked for him to make me a few boards for the trip. I mean who better than one of the worlds great shapers who had surfed Tavarua for over a decade at that point. As the date of my trip got closer I had a beautiful quiver of brand new boards in my living room. The boards were a 6'4" diamond tail, 6'8" Rounded Pin, twin 6'10" step ups and mini guns of 7'0", 7'2" and 7'6".
I was ready.

The Boatman Bure circa 1995 with my broken 6'10" 

On a sad side note, one morning while having coffee before my departure a woman saw my Tavarua hat and asked if I had been there. I replied no, but that I was leaving very soon to go to the island and couldn't wait. She then asked If I knew her brother, David Anderson? Indeed I did, DA was a super cool guy from Windansea who I looked up to and respected. I would talk with him at the surf shop often and was really excited because he was a boatman as well, and I was was going to show me the ropes along with Baker. She then had a very serious look in her face and quietly told me that David didn't come home the night before after spearfishing. This caught me very off-guard to say the least. The guy was an incredible waterman. Apparently he went free-diving and that was the last time anyone had seen him. During the days that followed, we all received the horrible news that he had experienced what is called"shallow water blackout," and had drowned. They found his body on the ocean floor, spear gun still in hand and a 45 lb. white sea bass at the end of his spear.  Weeks later when I got to the Island, everyone was still crushed by the loss of D.A. and in the boatman bure, his boards were in the corner still waiting for his return. He is very much missed to this day.

The Late David Anderson

January arrived and I said goodbye to my friends as I loaded up my huge board bags stuffed to the gills. In the bags were my boards, pillows for the resort, and porn mags for the boatmen. Here I was in LAX on New Years Eve getting ready to jump on an Air Pacific flight that would change my life. The flight is a 13 hour mission on a once a week flight which, back then, could get quite crowded. But tonight was New Years Eve and the plane was more than half empty. Happiness is a whole row to yourself on a long flight. 

Eventually I arrived in Nadi, the main city on the island of Viti Levu. Stepping off the plane and hitting a wall of humidity took my breath away for a moment. I was met by the Island shuttle driver, Sayid, and was soon taken to the Island boat launch. the ride down the bumpy dirt road that ended at a rocky beach surround by mangroves was beautiful. We loaded the gear and a small group of guests onto a panga and began the slow 10 minute commute to the most beautiful island you could imagine. Straight up Gilligan's Island type stuff. 

As we were pulling up I saw my friend Roseman on the beach loading up a panga in a hurry. I yelled hello to him and he asked If I wanted to jump in and go for a surf. I hadn't been in the water in almost a month as I had been working my ass off to get things into storage and earn enough money to make my payments while I was gone. Hell yeah I wanted to go surf! 

Isei at the boat launch

I asked what board I should bring and he said 6'10" would be good. 6'10"? How big was it out there? I had been riding a 6'4" and that handled some decent waves back home. I grabbed the 6'10" and a 7'0" just in case. As we get into the deep channel between Cloudbreak and Tavarua we a boat full of guests heading back to the island after their morning surf.

Baker was the boatman on that one and he shot me a huge smile, stoked that I made it. Only one guest made the transfer to our boat, Henry Hunte from La Jolla. He was is an incredible surfer and was more than happy to head back out for more. As we made our way towards Cloudbreak, Henry mentioned that it was really fun, 4'-6' but that the wind is starting to come up a bit. His 4-6 was obviously different than mine when I caught my first glimpse of firing Cloudbreak.

Once in the channel my jaw dropped at the sight of the first set. The wave starts way up the point, looking like a very long closeout until it gets towards the end of the atoll where it hits a ledge area. the wave slows enough to let you get in before it continues down the point. Having surfed Hawaii a few times, I compare it to hoping into a really long wave at Log Cabins or Pipeline. Upon paddling out, my heart was beating through my chest. My first sight of someone riding a wave was Roseman dragging both arms and side-slipping into a double overhead barrel. That image is burned into my brain.

Jon Roseman might be the most tubed man ever.

My first wave at Cloudbreak was a revelation. I dropped in, soul arched at the bottom, mostly because I was off balance, and pulled into an overhead barrel, flying out at mach speed. I was from Pacific Beach, a very mediocre beach break, so that wasn't an everyday experience for me. After riding it a bit to long, I kicked out just in time to see Jon in a huge barrel... out farther and to the right of me.  What does that mean? It means I was caught inside at a reef aptly named "shish-kabobs." 

For my ignorance, I tried to push under a eight-foot ball of white water but it was only two feet deep over razor sharp reef and my board hit and I was still above water as I got smashed.

Welcome to Fiji asshole.

The beating was solid and I got washed further in, this is affectionately known as "Taking the tour." One thing I didn't expect from the waves in Fiji was the power they held. Somehow in my young, inexperienced mind, I thought it was going to be a "softer" wave. How wrong I was. I got some more fun waves that session and went back to the island a happy man. I was thinking about how my buddies were scrapping at three-foot Crystal pier and I had just surfed a wave I've dreamed about for years with only two friends. 

Me at small fun Cloudbreak 2008

Over the course of the next two months I got so see some amazing things and I will tell those stories at a later time. Also in the course of those two months, I got the flu three times from visiting guests and became very ill. During those times, the guys would take the boats out and I would have to stay in bed. Back then the island was very different. No AC, one community bathroom and rain water was collected for drinking and outdoor showers. It was very basic compared to the resort that is there today. If I was feeling better that day, I would clean up the bure as it was always messy. 

The old boatman bure was located back by the board graveyard where it was over gown and filled with rats. If they got into our bure, I would sweep up their poop and sometimes watched as the island cats, Bob and Ginger, chased them down and gobbled them whole. That was gnarly to see for sure. One afternoon as I was coming back in from an afternoon surf at Cloudbreak, I felt like my head was going to implode. I moored the boat in the channel and as soon as I got to the beach, the pain became worse.

Ding repair on the boats

I went to the restaurant and chugged a bunch of water and immediately vomited. I found Jon in his office and told him how I was feeling. He said that it might be heat stroke and that I should rest in the office as it was the only AC on the island. I layed down but the pain persisted as I took some aspirin and drank more water. The vomiting continued. Jon arranged for a boat to take me to the mainland for the night so I could rest at a local hotel. He thought that having some cool AC all night might help. 

As they dropped me off at the  boat launch I remember seeing heat trails...I was starting to hallucinate. At this point I blacked out. Later I heard that the Fijians thought I was drunk because I was making no sense and was throwing up. Soon after I got in the shuttle headed for the hotel, I guess I passed out. Upon arriving I tried to fight the driver and fell out of the cab and passed out once again...I was out of it. The staff, still thinking I was drunk,  put me into a room and left me alone. 

What nobody knew was that I was in the middle of a 105 degree unchecked fever induced by a viral infection that was threatening my life. If Jon hadn't called to check on me a little bit later that night, I would have died alone in that room.

Driving the Panga back from Cloudbreak

Roseman called my room but there was no answer. He soon called the island shuttle driver Sayid and asked him to check on me. After he knocked and received no answer, he had the staff open the room. Sayid called Jon and gave me the phone. They later said that I didn't know who Jon was or what he was talking about. 

Thats when Jon knew something was very wrong and called a doctor right away. He also sent his fiance', Cynthia, to come check on me. They arrived about an hour later as my fever was still peaking at almost 106 degrees. The Doctor gave me a shot in my ass and Cynthia placed cool towels on me and iced me down all night. They literally saved my life. 

The next day I awoke and had no idea where I was or what had happened. Jon called his father who was a doctor at Scripps in La Jolla and told him what the symptoms were. The consensus was possible dengue fever. His dad said I should return home ASAP. I returned to the Island thinking whatever I had the night before was over but hat night the headache returned and Jon made arrangements to send me home the next day.

The night before I had to fly home

Fijian hospitals were very primitive back then, and Jon's father knew they wouldn't be able to treat me properly. The next morning I was on a Quantas flight bound for LAX with specific directions to not let anyone know I was ill or they may not let me fly. It was the longest, shittiest 14 hours of my life. No pain killers would work and my brain felt like it was exploding. My mother met me at the airport and drove me straight to the hospital in La Jolla. After a spinal tap and a CAT scan I was placed on morphine and was posted up in bed where I remained for the next week. I was in and out of consciousness and was very light sensitive, so the room had to be completely dark. During those days, I experienced hallucinations of bums with shopping carts in my room that I would have conversations with. I remember hearing Hall n' Oats on their radio. It was so real and so awful.

Parasitic Meningitis takes it toll.

The Morphine and Demerol helped ease the pain but left me blacked out and which I would only emerge from when the pain returned. I went from surfing as good as I ever had, to being bed ridden in a drugged out haze. The Dr. explained that what I caught was parasitic-meningitis. Apparently what happens is these microscopic parasites got into my system when I was sweeping the rat shit out of the bure. The parasites were in the droppings and went airborne. I had breathed them in and since my immune system was weakened by me being sick for so long, it allowed the parasites to take hold. 

The pain in my head was caused by my brain being pressed into the topside of my skull. The parasites were in my spinal fluid and the white blood cells were flocking to fight the infection, this had the effect adding a rock into a glass of water. It makes the water rise. There is no cure for this but the parasites cannot live in people very long and I just had to wait until they died. There was talk that I may have gotten this from eating some power bars that were gnawed on by the rats but that was false. The Dr. said there was no way to get the meningitis in that way. 

Weeks later when I could get out of bed I had lost 25 pounds but was thankful to alive.  Looking back on this incident I realized that the trip to Tavarua was indeed life changing. My world opened up and I experienced a once in a lifetime opportunity. That was the good side...the bad side was after I returned, I went on disability and went through a very depressing period. I couldn't surf because of my back and I couldn't get a job because I was so fatigued. I felt like I needed to reassess many things in my life at this point and eventually settled for a job in a skate shop. Basically I started over.  

Back in Tavy in 2008 with Chief Druku.

I finally got to return to Tavarua in 2008, thirteen years after my first trip. It was one of the most healing and cleansing things I have ever experienced. Just coming back to a place that I didn't get to properly say goodbye to was very powerful. Once again I reassessed my life and found that I was unhappy with where I was at, and made changes when I returned home from my trip.  What is truly special, is seeing the wonderful friends who still work there. They are the most beautiful people I have ever met and they restore my faith in humanity. It was a true gift to go back. My life path changed after my first trip and in a weird way, it was all meant to be. Sometimes the things in life that seem the worst often reveal new paths that are for the best. 

Eddie, Siti, Isei and Wonga. My Fijian brothers.

Joel Tudor and The Flying Takayama - 1990

It was early Summer in 1990 when I called Joel Tudor from the surf shop. I was working in Pacific Beach and told him the pier was looking really fun and he should come down for a surf. He was only 15 and didn't have a ride and asked if I could pick him up from his house in University City. No worries. I got a shop grom to cover the store and I was out the door. I was on my way when I realized I only had one soft rack for my shitty 1979 Celica sedan. As I got to his house we organized or gear and I started to put his almost new Takayama nose rider onto the one old rack atop the car. I get it strapped in and I tell him to hop in. He looks at me and asks where the other rack is? I told him not to be a pussy and his board was going to be "safe and sound". As we were blasting down the I-52 west bound, his board began to move a bit. By "move a bit" I mean it was bouncing around and starting to levitate on occasion. Just then I hear a "Hey dude, I think we should slow down, it looks sketchy." I looked at him with disdain and pushed the pedal a bit harder.  Just I was saying how he should chill, I heard "THERE IT GOES!!"

Joel Tudor Photo:Tom Keck

I had a sweet rusted out sunroof on the shitty Celica and through a hole in the seal, I could see it go from dark to light. In the rear-view I see his prized hand shaped board heading skyward from the roof-rack. I automatically hit the breaks and began to skid going 65mph. We ended up doing a full 180 on the freeway and were now facing traffic! A few "Oh shits" were muttered and I hastily pulled the car onto the shoulder. We looked at each other and began to laugh hysterically. Not because it was funny but because we were happy to be alive. Once we calmed down we looked for his board, we saw that it was lying in the number two lane of the 52. I dashed out between passing cars and grabbed the board returning it to the safety of the freeway Ice plant. I assured Joel that the board looked fine! There was just a little rail shatter...oh, and maybe the fin looks a little cracked too. Is that a buckle? Oh shit...

With the rack busted and gone, I stuff the board into my car and we start heading for Crystal Pier once again. I didnt care that three feet of surfboard were sticking out my passenger side window,we were still going surfing. We get to the pier and surf for a few hours. I cant remember if it was fun, I can only remember his board flying in the air. We finish up, bullshit for a bit in the shop and then load up to take him home. I wanted to grab some racks from the shop but we were sold out and only had hard racks. Fuck. On the drive back to his house I was thinking of how pissed his dad was going to be. I was hoping his mom was going to be there. She was always the coolest but his dad big Joe was a bit intimidating to say the least. I was sure to catch a beat down.

Phil Edwards, Greg Noll, Takayama, Joel and Miki Dora

Just as I was contemplating my fate, I hear the sound of a siren. To make my day that much shittier, I'm  getting pulled over for having that extra three feet of board sticking out of my car. Apparently, if you don't have a red warning flag attached its quite frowned upon. I plead my case and explained how we almost died and I spun out and how I'm a good kid... the cop wasn't buying it. My failure was complete.

I sign the ticket and finish the drive of shame to Joels house. I almost contemplated dropping him off down the block so I could escape without injury.  Anyway, we get there and Joel got out and explained the situation to his mom and she spoke to a visibly upset Joe. I'm sure he would have killed me if not for Denise.  Since I almost killed Joel, ruined his board and was a terrible driver who received a moving violation, I figured I shouldn't pick up Joel anymore. Even if I wanted to, Im pretty sure Joe would have forbid Joel from riding in my whip ever again. After that day I would only see Joel when he came down with someone else or if I was road tripping up to Cardiff.

Joel now is a father of two, a world champion surfer and Jui jitsu world champ as well.

Natas Kaupas - 1986 and 2000

In the summer of 1986 my mother dropped me and my friend off to go watch the premiere of "Amazing Surf Stories"by Scott Dittrich at the La Jolla Museum of Contemporary Art. The line was long and filled with all the local hero's, burnouts, bastards and groms from the PB and La Jolla area. After buying the tickets we walked to the back of the line. I remember hearing insults, funny laughter, shit talk and there was an ever present cloud of smoke. I was 14 that summer night and had just started to immerse myself in the world of surfing and skateboarding the year prior. Tom Curren and Archie were the reasons we came out to see the movie. Their surfing was everything I loved at that time. Curren had perfect style and Archie surfed like he was pissed. We were ready to watch shit go down.

As the line began to move, someone offered us a joint and a beer. No thanks. I was happy with my huge soda and stash of candy that we got from the AM/PM by Windansea. Inside the theatre it was starting to get packed. It was hot and the thick, dank smell of dirt weed filled the theatre. As at any premiere, there were some clashes of cool guys and I remember some dudes in the back heckling some guys they didn't like, yelling "Go back to Clairemont Faggots"! I remained silent in the back, figuring it best to fly under the radar. I knew we were the prime demographic of abuse. Gangley groms who didn't surf that good and weren't quick enough to defend ourselves with our slow wit. Eyes forward, laugh along and follow the crowd. Check.

After what seemed like an eternity, the lights finally dimmed. 20-30 beers cracked simultaneously. The movie started and we all were treated to Archie surfing Costa Rica at 100 miles an hour and the Curren footage was solid but as a whole the video was sucking. There was some older footage and stuff in there that, we as kids, couldnt yet appreciate. We were ready to write it off until the sound of fire crackling and one word appeared on the screen. Natas.

We watched in amazement as this rad guy with a weird name ripped on his skateboard. He was doing shit I had never seen before and by the sounds of everyone going bananas, nobody had ever seen before.Watch his part starting at 2:20...this got us on our feet! His last trick was a boardslide on a dumpster and the whole crowd erupted. Beer cans flew at the screen and people were cheering. For me, it made me look at skateboarding in an entirely different way. After the movie let out, all I really remembered liking was Natas.

Natas Photo: J.Grant Brittain

Many years later I owned a Skateboard shop in San Diego called Hanger 18. My joy was to have pros come in for autograph signings. I loved to give the local kids a chance to meet their heros as I know it mattered to me when I was a kid. I feel like thats missing nowadays from the typical surf and skateboard shops. The big mall stores are more about image than substance, but thats a different story for another day. I was doing good business with element skateboards at the time and I told my rep Travis that I wanted to get Natas to my shop for a signing. Natas was recently back into skateboarding after a stint as an Art Director for an upscale porn magazine called "Rage". Travis hooked it up and we had a date set for Natas and Mike V to come for a signing. I was very pleased.

Natas and Mike V

Here I was almost 20 years later in my own skate shop. I basically look at it like I owe him for this part of my life. If i didn't see that part, I would have never fallen in love with skating. Its funny how some things you come across in life are so powerful it changes your direction. That video part was one of those things.

Natas, MikeV, Gonz Photo: J.Grant Brittain

So the day arrives and my friend Junior came down to cook his famous Carne Asada. I forgot the grill so he dumps the coals on the sidewalk and tips over a nearby shopping cart and cooks it up super ghetto style! We brought a little soul back right there! At the end I approach Natas and we talk for a few minutes about that old surf movie and his video part. He was real humble and said thanks and we had another taco. As a parting gift I gave him an old license plate that I bought off Ebay the week prior. It was a California issued plate with his name on it. He mentioned that he was bidding on it as well and was bummed he didn't win the auction... I won the auction with a bid of $9.50.  I never did tell Natas the full extent of his impact on me, but standing next to him for a photo I felt as though I had come full circle. I was standing with the reason I got into skateboarding... Mr. Natas Kaupas.

Me and Natas in my shop - 2000

Leroy Grannis and the Print - 2004

In the fall of 2004 I was working at Transworld Skateboarding Magazine in Oceanside. One slow afternoon I was looking up Leroy Grannis on Google, not for work but for purely personal reasons. I had always loved his rich photography and the way he captured a golden era in surfing. For years he was known for selling 8 1/2 x 11" black and white prints of his all time greatest photos and outtakes that he would sign and stamp on the back. Up until a few years ago you could find them on Ebay for about $25 bucks.

Eddie. Photo:Grannis

As I searched, I stumbled onto a very rudimentary website that had his famous logo. Upon looking a bit further i discovered that this site was actually Leroy's. He even had an email address listed at the bottom. Well I took a shot in the dark and started to draft an email that I was sure would never reach him but was fun to write none-the-less. I wrote of how I was a fan of his photography and that I surfed with Skip Frye on occasion and was hoping he had a print of Skip that I could possibly purchase. With a hope and a prayer I pressed "send."

Leroy and his logo

A couple of weeks passed and I had all but forgotten about the email. Life, work and kids tend to help erase the mind of trivial events. Not that this was trivial, but compared to everything I had going on, It just didn't rank on my "shit to do" list. So on a Monday, I get to work and in my inbox, there is an email from Leroy Grannis. As my heart raced a little faster I opened the email and it said, "Sorry I don't sell prints anymore. I have a book deal coming and legally cant sell them anymore, but..."

No Way! There was a "but"... I was tingling with hope.

"...but" he continued,  "I might be able to print you a copy of a photo of Skip. Just as long as you don't advertise it"

Leroy Grannis

"Don't advertise it", I love the way the old guard spoke. I was beside myself with stoke. We went back and forth on a couple of emails and he said to meet him Monday after work at his house in Carlsbad. YES! As the week went on I could hardly wait for the following Monday to come. I had once owned a rad Grannis print that I bought off of Ebay. Unfortunately during a rough period, I had to close my skate shop. Many things got lost in the process including a black and white shot of a smiling Skip in full trim at  San Miguel during a contest from the mid 60's.

SanO Photo:Grannis

Monday had now arrived and as the day progressed the build up of excitement grew. Five O'clock came around and I was out the door and flying down the freeway to get to his house before the Monday Night Football game started. He mentioned that the Chargers were playing and I should get there before the game started so I wouldn't interrupt. He said that once he and his wife sit down to watch they really don't get up. The gas pedal was on the floor as I drove.

I got to a quaint little mobile home park and was buzzed in. At a small unassuming house on the left a small old man was on his porch with a folder in hand. Even though he was old, he was very sharp and carried himself well. I parked, got out and shook his hand. I was going to go into some long form speech of how great of an honor it is to meet him and how his photography has been so inspiring to me. Instead of all that, Leroy greeted me with a "The game is about to start and I have to get my wife comfortable...here you go" With that, he handed me the folder and he shuffled back towards his doorway.  Our meeting was over before it began. We exchanged a quick goodbye and our 4 minute meeting was over. I didn't want to be rude and look in the folder while still standing there so I got back in the car and drove out to the main street.

I immediately pulled opened the folder to check out the stash. There was a printed out spread from his upcoming book and on it was Miki Dora dropping in at Waimea Bay. It was printed on regular printer paper but I was stoked he gave it to me as an added bonus. The next thing was the Skip photograph. As I turned it over my stoke fell flat. It too was printed off of a desk jet. On regular printing paper. And if anything, it looked fuzzy like the ink was running out. It definitely wasn't the sharp clear photo stock that his famous photos were once printed on. On the long drive back to my house I listened to the Charger game and thought of my one chance to get this photo from Leroy and how it wasn't all I had built it up to be. This was the definition of "letdown". Give it a look in the dictionary. You'll see me  standing there with paper print in hand. In fact, i was so bummed, the photo was kept in the folder and when I went home I tossed it in my backyard shed and there it sat for the next four years.

The printed Dora page

In 2008 I left my house and most of my belongings as I started my divorce. As I packed my car with my surfboards and my most valuable personal effects, I went into my shed one last time to look around. On the ground behind a lawnmower was a grease covered folder that I didn't recognize. Upon further inspection, I was stoked to look inside and see the Granny photo. The memory of that day came rushing back. The hope, the foolish feeling of disappointment but also the stoke of getting to meet with Leroy. The look in his eyes and the sound of his voice left an impression on me.

The Leroy Grannis Book from Taschen

Its funny how when one gets older we start to see things differently. Maybe its the life experience or maybe you just take things for what they are. Either way, looking back on it, here was a legend in the world of surfing who took the time to print me a photo. A photo that he legally wasn't allowed to give me due to a deal he made with his book publisher. Not to mention he didn't know me or owe me anything. He could have told me to buzz off or even worse, could have never emailed me back. Instead, he took a timeout from caring for his ill wife to dig up a photo of Skip, print it out and sign it like he had done for years for so many lucky people. I had a piece of history given to me from Leroy. In hindsight, its now one of my most prized possessions.

Heres the print...Skip Frye in Puerto Rico  Photo: Grannis

Leroy passed away in February of this year. I was very sad to hear this news but it wasn't totally unexpected. He had a slow decline the past few years from what I have read. I still have the picture he gave me tipped into a copy of his book that came out from Taschen Publishing. Oh the irony... this company bought Leroy's imagery and then forbid him from profiting or using it after that point. A man who, for years, loved to share his prints with people wasn't allowed to do so his last few years. While I'm happy there is a book that will live on and let us enjoy the wonderful pictures Granny took, I'm also saddened about the lack of Soul and lack of understanding of Taschen.

I was fortunate to meet Granny and even more fortunate to get that one last print, even if it wasn't what I thought it was going to be. In the end, its much better than anything I could have hoped for.