My name is John A. AKA Big J (nicknamed by locals while in Costa Rica...some of them are rather small). I'm one of the founding members of the Harvey Wallbangers (as KevO fondly calls us) who spend our time during the summer on Long Beach Island, NJ. I've been surfing in Harvey Cedars since I was eight years old although you wouldn't know it by watching me. I've traveled to Hawaii, California, Puerto Rico and Costa Rica in search of waves. My favorite spot is still 69th street in Harvey Cedars. When it's breaking overhead left to right off the north Jetty and the wind is NW (offshore) on a sunny August day, there is no place like it.
My quiver only consists of two boards these days, a 9'6" Murphy and a 7'4" WRV. The Murphy is my mainstay these days as it surfs equally well in small slop and overhead barrels. It is truly a longboard that manuvers like a short board. When the surf gets real big (alot of duck-diving required) I jump on my WRV which I also think is a great board. My surf partners are usually Bud and Karl with the occasionl appearance by KevinO (my brother-in-law). If I could drop all responsibility and do just one thing, I would surf.
-BigJ
John A. Big J
Subject: My intro
Craig.Jon A. The Candyman
Personal Bio: Craig Jon Anderson alias Craigjon alias Candyman alias Bart alias Canderson alias Craigie alias Craigor alias Craigorvich alias Craig the Egg. Been surfing for over 30 years... since 1966. I've written a short summary of the story and posted it to the web at CraigJon. I hope to meet more of you folks.
One more point. I'd like to develop some "surf relationships". This means that I'd like to find someone who will drag my body out of the water in the event of a mishap subsequent to surfing an unknown break. In other words, I'll go out anywhere with at least one other person with me.
Douglas A. aka "The Mad Scot"Kooks:
Since it appears that introductions are now the rage of the kook line, I thought it time to hop on my soap-box and let it fly...My name is Doug, and I too am a kook! It was never my intention to wind up this way, it just seemed to happen.
My start as a kook began somewhere around 1972. My folks used to rent a summer bungalow along the North Jersey coast, and that year the neighbors 18-year old son who had been M.I.A for about two years (i.e. run-away) suddenly returned. It seems he had split the east coast, and ended up somewhere around Santa-Cruz, heavily ingrained in the local surf scene, and in particular, had become a kneeboard aficianado!
Well, it didn't take him long; stories of riding these oddly shaped spoon like mini-boards deep into gaping barrels while deep in a parallel univsrse as a result of injesting all matter of psychedelic substances; and Man Oh Man, I was hooked. Knee boards made perfect sense I thought. I could carry it on my bike to the beach, it was small enough to fit in the back of the family wagon without causing my Scottish father to blurt all sorts of gaelic profanities, and better than all of that, no one else in the line up could figure out what the hell it was, thereby leaving my skinny 11-year-old-self from being to badly hassled.
Toward the end of my second summer of riding that thing, I bashed it to bits on the local jetty, thereby forcing me to graduate to a stand-up board. The next few years are a bit hazy, and then I met KevinO. It seems as though we were both high school punks, and both heavily into skating and surfing, a partnership was born! Along with fellow kook (M. Mulvaney: our intrepid west coast of Florida correspondent), and other assorted kook wanabees, we spent the remainder of our high school years ditching school and dropping in! To this day it amazes me that I must now address him as Dr. KevinO!
Anyway, after the salad days of H-School, I ended up attending college in West-By-God-Virginia, miles from the nearest ripple, but home to some seriously good rock climbing...which for the next dozen years or so was pretty much my main focus. During that time though, I did manage some sessions at Steamer-Lane while ski-patrolling in Northern California, and then there was the time I paddled out at pipeline (During the summer, there was only a small swell) while on a layover from a climbing trip to Nepal, almost to get beaten senseless by the local steriod-pumping Mokes ("Hey Haole Boy, Ya Wana See Beef!!!), ahhh, the good old days.
Somehow, I ended up back in NJ, married with a child, a job, a mortgage, bald, and full of stoke!!! I'm back riding a knee-board, surfing with my old chum KevinO, and constantly plotting new and devious ways to ditch work, family, etc...for a few glorious moments in the tube, and constantly wondering what next the cosmos bring!!!
For now, I hold my board up high and scream out loud "I AM A KOOK, AND THAT'S O.K'!!!
Scotland Forever!
DCA
It all started when I won this pool surfing contest in Arizona. Then I went to Hawaii where I met my friends Turtle and Chandler, spent a lot of time behind the bushes with that Kiani babe, went to the finals of the Pipe Masters with Laird Hamilton and... oops, wrong bio!
I was born in Sao Paulo, Brazil, population 15 million, a sprawling Megalopolis about one hour away from the sea. During my childhood I was a shy and bookish type, and my mother dressed me funny, but that's not important. What is important is that I was a complete failure in any land sports. I tried them all: soccer, judo,cycling,volleyball, but nothing worked. My parents, being bookish types themselves, only cared that I was getting some exercise, but didn't see the importance of being at least marginally skilled in at least one sport.
Then I got into swimming. I was 9 and finally found my element, water. The next year, I started free diving and spearfishing with my uncle in the South of Brazil, truly a magical and beautiful place. My swimming career took off and I started competing when I was 11, in 100 and 200 butterfly. Got in a team, 4 hours in the pool 6 days a week, Nationals started looking like a real possibility, and then my mother pulled the plug due to rapidly falling grades. I still swim today and run the MIT Masters Swimming program. I also love to spearfish (no SCUBA crap, please).
I used to go to Rio a lot because we have family there and was always amazed at the surfers. Although Surfer magazine will tell you a different story, the waves in some beaches in Rio pack a lot of power, and are as dangerous as the meanest ones I saw in Australia or Japanese typhoon swells. It takes a lot of time to learn the currents and figure out the banks, but pretty soon I was bodysurfing in Copacabana and Leblon, two hairy shorebreaks in Rio.
I really got interested in surfing in high school after noticing how the surfer dudes tended to pull all the babes. Sao Paulo is inland but has a huge surfer population and tons of surf shops. Some of the best Brazilian big wave riders in Hawaii come from here too. After about two years of jonesing for a surfboard and saving enough money by tutoring junior high kids in Math and Science, and with some monetary help from my dad, I bought my first stick: a 5'7'' tri-fin swallow tail with a New Wave airbrush shaped by Glen D'Arcy a South African shaper. In these days of fish revival, it is still a pretty killer board! I was 14 then.
First session out in Copacabana. Busted one of my fins, got stabbed in the back by the nose and laughed at by all the girls and surfer dudes. Hmmm, maybe I should stick with bodysurfing... Ten days later, in the South of Brazil, I stood up for the first time. I've been hopelessly hooked since then. The place was Quatro Ilhas (Four Islands in English), a gorgeous beach close to Florianopolis, the town where some of the ASP Brazilian Leg contests are held. At that time there wasn't even a road to the place, my dad would just drop me at the hill, I would hike in, surf, and he would pick me up a few hours later. Quatro Ilhas is a gorgeous, mystical place, and although it's 10 hours away from Sao Paulo, it is my home break. It is overrun by tourism these days, but it's still the same as 15 years ago during winter when the South Pole swells start marching in and the temperature drops. A couple of years later, my brother started joining me in a four-fin channelled Cristal Graffitti. We listened then to Devo, B52's, Dead Kennedies and the almighty Ramones.
As I said, I started surfing to get chicks. It didn't work but I did meet my other true love: music. I was into percussion since I was a little brat, just banging everything in sight with wooden spoons and driving family and neighbors insane. I have an uncle who used to be a really good classical guitarist, and I really liked the sound of it. One day uncle Josvaldo, who doesn't play anything but is a great guy, gave me my first and only guitar, a high end Brazilian rosewood top classical guitar. From there I went to music school for five years, discovered the beauty of Johann Sebastian Bach and have been happy ever since. I guess my guitar is my only successful love relationship, as girlfriends and fiancees tend to come and go. I bought an electric guitar about 7 years ago, but my classical one is like my wife.
Still I kept surfing anyway. When I was 19 I went to Japan and had the chance to surf typhoon waves. Last year I spent 3 weeks in Australia ona surfari from Sydney to Adelaide. The defining moment in surfing came for me when my brother and I took a trip to Quatro Ilhas in the dead of winter. Air temperature: 40F. Water temperature: 45F. Weird south/southeast swell. I had only a short john. Took almost one hour to get out there. Paddled into the first wave of a set, got stuck in the lip and went down. Was pounded by the set, lost my board and saw my life rush in front of me. I made it back to the beach to hear my brother tell me that when I fell my board was vertical and the face height was at least twice its length. Then I collapsed. Since then, I've been chasing that mixture of horror and pleasure.
Six years ago I came to the US where I am getting a Ph.D. in Chemical Engineering at MIT. Being based in Boston, I enjoy the tropical weather and plentiful swells in Rhode Island (Matunuck and the Lighthouse), Massachusetts North Shore (Gloucester) and New Hampshire (The Wall). I have yet to get some waves at the Cape. Although the surf is a little inconsistent, New England has the coolest surf scene and plenty of Aloha. I am probably moving to Northern California soon but I'll miss this place.
Favorite break: Quatro Ilhas, Santa Catarina, Brazil
Kiko's Personal Web Site including (no surprise) exerpts from his novel...
Gerd the Grommet
Subject: My introHi all Kooks from the east coast,
Let me also introduce myself. I am Gerd the Grommet, christianized so by KevinO after introduced to this email list by Holger the Horrible.Back to my intro. 5 weeks ago I bought a used board from Dave wave for $180. Depending on your point of view I was fortunate to try surfing twice so far. Holger, Dave and I went to Point Pleasant Beach, Manasquan, and Long Branch. It was lots of fun and I am looking forward to become more proficient in riding this board. For me it was already a success to brake through the waves, getting out there, balancing to sit on the board and catching 3 waves with a belly ride being thrown right out to the beach.
With 36 years of age and never been on a surf board I have a lot of catching up to. For two years I work for MEdia, Inc. here in NJ's north east, the same company Holger works for. It was also Holger who pressed me to go surfing with him after finishing my first snow board season last winter. This was also great, I just love it. As you can tell, I am a boarder in all aspects. The next thing I'll try is skateboarding. Anyway, from profession I am a Quality Assurance Manager. This job took and still takes a huge chunk out of my 24 hours a day. I am working hard to have more free time for surfing to also better balance my work and personal time.
In July 1992 I arrived at Newark International Airport as an immigrant from Germany. Who might want to know why the hell did a German come to the US? It was my American wife who wanted to return to the US to continue with her studies. Even after she signed the divorce papers and I am still here. Why? Because I learned to love and enjoy this country and NYC and the people living here. Going further back in my life I also worked in BA in Germany at a huge glass company for 3 years after finishing college majoring in Engineering Physics. Ever since I graduated from High School I did not engage in any kind of sports on a regular basis. Here and there I played a little bit of tennis, rode my bike, did some jogging, etc. I rather hung out in clubs, bars, and on parties at that time. Hey, you should do what ever you feel like doing.
Hope to meet you all on the waves.
-Gerd
I grew up on Long Island right smack in the middle of four other people I later learned were my siblings. I am half-German and half Latin (of the Costa Rican persuasion.) My present dwelling is a brownstone on the Upper West Side of NYC.
Spent 8 years in Catholic grammar school (oh, that explains it), 4 years in public high school (explains a lot more) and was in and out of 3 schools after that. During high school, my introduction to the world of surfing came from a childhood friend who was a lifeguard at Long Beach. He'd spend the off-season surfing in Hawaii, and of course I got play-by-play details, and he'd take me to all the surfing movies that were playing at the local town hall. I was hooked. I received my first surfing lesson (pitiful, upon reflection) in Hawaii from a native. In addition to that escapade, I've done the surfing safari to Rincon, PR three times.
Soon I grew up (this remains highly debatable.) After I did stints as a teen counselor, engineer of fine apparel (dry cleaners), and packaged goods maven (supermarket,) my first 'real' job was working at SPORTS ILLUSTRATED. From there I ventured down the hall to become FORTUNE magazine's media/marketing manager. Simultaneously, I did some moonlighting with the Minister and we had our own video production company. [note about David: we've been best friends since he was a teenager. I used to work for his uncle, the fabulous Minister of Good Taste, and David would visit the office, sit on my desk and whisper sexual innuendoes in my ear. We were off to a great start :)] David continued with video work, and I went on to other adventures. I slipped into the interactive arena, a place I swore I'd never go to, and eventually became a VP of sales and business development at an interactive company. I got that job [via email] because the founder of the company tripped on my personal web site. Now I'm happily unemployed, looking for a new job (perhaps something where I can work outside in the summer and indoors in the winter) and building this Web site in the interim.
I'm never far from the beach. It's just been a long time since I was in the water with a board. Although the boogie board is fun, I prefer a surfboard, and have had difficulty in the past with short boards; my legs hang way off the back of the board ... but I'll figure it out. Promise! As far as "standing like a real man," no matter how much I try, I know that I'll never be a man. Plain and simple, it ain't gonna happen. My most recent foray into the world of surfing came in the form of a visit to the Minister's retreat for the surf-starved in Montauk. I didn't go in -- I admit it -- I chickened cuz it was too damn cold, and besides, I own neither a board nor a wetsuit. Duh. The kid needs a lot of help. Anyhow, if I ever show up at YOUR door, you'll know it's me because I've got:
For more disgustingly shameless self-promotion, go visit my PERSONAL Web site, Off the Beaten Path, or go visit the site I originally created as my SurfChick intro to this list.
Robert C. Surfboard Bob
Subject: A Kooks Poem
kOOks About the author: Surfboard Bob aka "Murder" - temporarily out of the action due to geographical issues related to living in Atlanta, GA. Started surfing in 1978: Montauk, many RI breaks, Maine, VA beach, SD, visits to Hattaras, Portugal, Costa Rica, Mexico. KevinO and I were two of the few Jesuit surfers at Fairfield where our friendship originated.(click, click, click, click)
East coast surfers,
frustrated by proximity to inconsistent surf
take to the electronic medium to hear
to be heard
to email each other lists of replies and cc:s
grommets learn to surf by bullet-pointed directions
wave reports broadcasted
evil dredgers in New Jersey and
obnoxious jet skiers from CT conspire to drop into
our salt water perspective
which is not the same for any one surfer
As I read the nightly dump of local surf reports
from a land-locked city many hours from waves
I've waxed my board patiently
for the last 3 years
not knowing when the next time I'll get salt water
up my nose.
The end
(click, click, click, click)
Kevin C. The Mighty One
Part 1. ...A Small Child Dreams...
Scene fades... its a flash back, you see the face of a (really cute kid) laying in bed under the covers,... the rhythmic sounds of waves breaking sets the mood. The child dreams of the ocean, the great abyss, but suddenly the sound stops. The child wonders why.
Apparently I was a fairly dumb kid. I lived in Brooklyn (Hicks St) and it wasn't until I was 7 that I realized that the breaking waves were in fact repeated attempts of my father to flush large movements (euphemism) down the toilet. Anyway, ever since then I have been drawn to the sea.
Part 34.V.i. ... The Big Line-up...
.... it was Fall and I knew they had to let me out. I had done my time, paid my debt to Society and was ready to re-enter the world of the living. So, when the day came I said good-bye to Bubba (gave him all the rest of my pruno and he gave me a bar of soap carved into a little surfboard, well I think it was a surfboard,... seemed to have a lot of rocker and a funny nose... but I digress...).
Anyway, the sound of all that water moving around made me think about the Ocean and about how much I had enjoyed surfing. It was then I decided that was where I had to be - by the Seashore. And I was prepared to do whatever it took to get there... so I went down to file for unemployment insurance and waited in the big line-up with the rest of the comers.
Part 108.XII.iv.......The Big Set
... conditions had been increasing all day, most had already decided to leave - it was getting a little too wild.
I had been there all day, I had put in the time - I had earned my position in the line-up. It went unstated, but everyone knew I was now the top dog. I had first choice of whatever was gonna come though. And then it came. I have seen sets, sets of all sizes, but this was just stupid. It filled the horizon. Some began to head for safety almost immediately, the rest waited and watched me. It was my choice. When I turned and began moving into position the pack spread out and backed away.
As I approach my final position a hand gently squeezed my shoulder. It was a big hand - too big. Then a deep low voice said "What do you think you're gonna do?" "Uuuuhhh...I thought I'd just ask the lady if she wanted a drink, or something.... peanuts?", I said offering the bowl, but it was too late and all I remember was hitting the floor with tremendous force.
I woke up sometime later (maybe days, it sure as hell felt like days) in the alley. As I lay amoung the cardboard and garbage cans it started to rain... which was just as well, it appeared that the punch had been of sufficient force to loosen my bladder (so to speak) and wash-day was two days away. As a waited for the rinse cycle to complete, I watched a cat cross-step along the top of a dumpster and it reminded me of the Sun filled longboard days of my youth. "Yes!" It was all so clear at that moment, all I need to do was get back in the water and all would be OK. So I made a vow there and then to do anything it took, to get my act back together and start surfing again... but for now, one more drink for the road... (like I was gonna get a whole lot accomplished at two in morning...yeah right).
Part 46:IIX.iv Getting and Staying Wet
The mid-morning change of period was always the most active. Something about your first class seemed to bring you back to reality - to reset your priorities. Simply put, High School was about girls, plain and simple. And if you didn't get on it quick,... well, who knows what would have happened, you'd explode or something,... actually, if I recall there wasn't much choice at the time.
If there was an alpha group at the school, I wasn't apart of it. Me and my group of friends were somewhere down the "feeder" list. Basically Mr Smooth had it right when he had managed to corner us in the lunch room eariler in the school year, "Christ, another bunch of assholes." But we were not beyond education, early in our freshman year we had learned (the hard way) that coughing the words "Big Tits" when Sally Weber would walk by wasn't gonna get any of us into her pants. So we regrouped and watched the juniors and seniors. And it didn't take long before we discovered the secret - "Surfers."
Surfers were simply cool and the chicks loved them. Within moments, our little lives had changed - all was clear, all was focused, Surfers we would be, it simply had to be (particularly, if we ever wanted to have sex... especially with Sally Weber).
By the mid-summer of our Freshman year, almost all of us had saved enough for a surfboard, or had already purchased one. I was one of the first three to get a board and promptly started to show up at Gilgo (the local beach) with baggies on and board under arm. Going out and actually catching waves was another matter.
One day while trying to find the best postion on the beach to be noticed, a few members of the high school's "alpha" feeder group came by. These guys actually surfed and seemed to know we didn't, and worse, had decided to force our hand. Sensing our moment of humiliation was at hand, options were rapidly considered. All that was clear was that crying was ruled out, (but would remain an option as far as I was concerned).
I have occasionally cursed my parents for my namesake, "Casey." The name is too easily remembered and on that day I cursed them long and hard for just when it was coming down to who would be the one to demonstrate their prowess as Hot-Dogger, the phrase "What about Casey?" was heard.
The conversation stopped cold and all eyes shifted to me. My friends, Jerken, Juit, Paider, Franz and others with less than memorable names sighed relief. In one synchronized (suttle) body jesture, they all seemed to move to side with the other team... then Franz drove it home with "...uuuh...OK...show'em Kevin..."
Then from the gladdened multitude went up a joyous yell,
It bounded from the mountain-top, and rattled in the dell;
It struck upon the hillside, and recoiled upon the flat;
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place,
There was pride in Casey's bearing, and a smile on Casey's face;
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt,
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there;
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped.
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.
From the benches, packed with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-wave on a stern and distant shore;
"Kill him! kill the umpire!" shouted some one from the stand.
And It's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his
hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signalled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew,
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire called, "Strike two."
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and the echo answered,
"Fraud!" But a scornful look from Casey, and the audience was awed;
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey's lips, his teeth are clenched in hate,
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate;
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh! somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Mudville -- mighty Casey has struck out.
Needless to say, I didn't have sex until I went to University.
...next time "Green Room Confidential"
Rob C. Barney
I was born in Manhattan and raised in Westchester by Republicans. In that leafy suburb I attended public schools, learned how to mix a perfect martini and developed a lasting antipathy towards golf.
At the age of 17 I went to Australia on a Rotary student exchange. I landed in Caloundra, a small coastal town about an hour north of Brisbane. In this Queensland town children often didn't learn how to tie their shoes until entering secondary school, simply because they never had to wear shoes. I was much impressed by this and by Australia's existential philosophy, which can be summed up as "No worries; she'll be right, mate." While in Australia I also learned how to surf, badly.
During and after an on-again, off-again college career (I finally graduated from Colby in 1986), I've held various jobs. In order to make money I've been a: busboy, asylum orderly, grape picker, ski bum (dishwasher at the Rustler Lodge, Alta), food buyer, house painter, photo librarian, prep cook, projectionist, line cook, media buyer, landscaper, waiter, carpenter, glazier, Village Voice intern, pushcart vendor, neon sign installer, usher, camp counselor (Flying Moose Lodge), day laborer, furniture mover, newspaper reporter, arts editor, pornographer, real estate reporter, proofreader, bartender, webmaster, copyeditor and freelance writer.
For most of those years I was away from the water. But one September day after I had moved back to the city, when I was still a promising pornographer, I went to do a freelance piece on the surfers at Rockaway. It was Hurricane Grace, or Gabrielle, and it was BIG. Guys were getting the full shack at 89th St. and getting spit out near 90th St. "Hey!" I surmised, "maybe I can surf here after all."
The following summer I bought my first board. Actually, the first board was a 6'6" round-tail, single fin shaped in Caloundra by a small shop called Freefluid, but I left that board in Oz (you always remember the first one). Since then I've acquired a 6'4" Tabeling rounded pintail, a 1970s vintage 7'0" Rise pinner, a 7'11" Stewart Hydro Hull, a 7'6" hybrid thruster, and a 7'2" pintail gun by Exotic Island Designs (The Chip, which I still can't ride).
I've surfed the East Coast from the Cape down to Ormond Beach, Florida, and the West Coast from Big Sur up to the Humbolt County line. The past three winters I've surfed in Puerto Rico for a few weeks at a time, but this winter I'm thinking of making a big trip to Costa Rica and Mexico.
Despite all this, I'm still a Kook. A barney, in fact.
Check out his personal Web site, City Surfer
Peter Dakota's Dad
Subject: PJK wax history and sore nips
Ahoy Mate KevinO,
Peter James here and paddling out thru mush and white water and whatever the sea may conjure up in reality and my fantasy. Allow me to intro myself. I am 45 and a lifelong spring/summer/fall resident of Fire Island. I have been sea frolicking all my life; in youth and middle age and most likely
antiquity. I started on rubber mats in the 50s and 60s, progressed to Bunger, Hansen 50/50, and Spectrum sticks in late 60s and 70s, started the first Surf Emporium in the cowabunga rocky mountain capital of Boulder, Colorado in the
Mid 70s. Spend the bulk of that decade surfing, and exploring the mainland of Mexico; Matachen Bay, San Blas, Matzo-land, and the southern tip of the Baja . I have spent hurricanes strapped to a dock, high on peyote to experience the full fury, and got my best licks on the waves while tripping the light fantastic pyschadelia of the era. Grad school at Santa Barbara and the last 20
years back in the beast, or least of the East, on Fire Island. I have seen the crowds come and go and most recently come again.
I have a genuine surf shack in the back of my home which house 6 boards of various ages and shapes, from a 6'2" 1970 Hobie eastern Star, to a 7' Morey Pope, new age 9'4" Stewart long board, 7'8" Peter Pan Slug, a 7'2" Wilderness/Yater West coast dream machine, and one other I can't recall. The Shack is currently being shared with my 4 year old daughter Dakota, who uses it as her clubhouse and has her initials already emblazed on the long board. At 3 she had her own wetsuits and has been a noserider with my assistance 200 yards offshore at the sandbar break in mellow conditions. We recently returned from annual winter surf break in Tortola, where I was married in khaki shorts 9 years ago, and returned to the Bomba full moon party as often as possible.
Need more? See me at my daily sunrise soul surf sessions almost every morning at the sandbar off first jetty in FI and we will chat. Remember the Best surfer is the one who is having the most fun!!!!!!!
ps Read "Caught Inside, A Surfers Year On The California Coast" D. Duane for the true soul of the sea life.
Ciao for now.
.
-PJK
Kevin D. kdubois@erols.comSubject: [kooks] Re-Introduction
Kooks:
I've been wanting to (re?) post my intro for some time. I just recently got my crashed computer system up and running again, and tonight I'm fighting a a wicked case of bad work karma so it would seem the opportune time to reminisce in my surfing roots. My first surf vehicle was a mat!I grew up on a 500 ac. dairy farm in upstate NY. It was a relatively cash poor but bucolic life that gave my family the opportunity camp in Cape Cod a couple a times a year. So as a kid, I rode the shorebreak on the ocean beaches of the Cape. Some years we'd use a mat other years my parents would, after much urging, buy use one of those styrofoam bodyboard predecessors - you know - the ones that're good for a wave or two before they break into smaller pieces that themselves become little wave planers. Daddy sold the farm when I was 10, so the trips to the Cape started to diminish after that.
We gear shifted to Myrtle Beach back in the day before it was the golf destination it is today. We'd camp in the campgrounds down there and take day trips to Murrells Inlet and other points south. Being the water rat that I was, I'd be bodysurfing, styrofoaming it, or spending endless hours searching for sharks teeth in the sand (still have my vast collection). Pops eventually purchased a condo rental and we continued taking trips to Myrtle right through high school.
Went to Southampton College (Southampton, Long Island, NY) in 1979 to become a marine biologist (whole 'nother story). Although interested, wasn't cool enough to hang out with the surfing "club" (big shocker, eh Spackler?!). Continued to body surf through college, concentrated on my studies (Geek-yes!), played tennis and ran x-country yada yada yada. Even spent time on a travel/study course in the Pacific (Tahiti, Raratonga, Auckland NZ, Heron Island Australia) and landed for a six month stretch in Hawaii doing an aquaculture internship (with freshwater prawns).
Although financially destitute (ate ice cream sundays at the Baskin Robbins I worked at in the International Marketplace, took home a packed quart that I ate for breakfast, and had saimin noodles for lunch @ six for a buck!) and working 6.5 days a week to pay the bills while volunteering for my internship, I did manage to bodyboarded and bodysurf parts of the island. In between working at a lab on Sand Island and working some grow-out ponds in Kahuku, I bodyboarded Makapuu Pt. and bodysurfed Makaha. I was told not to try to learn to surf in Hawaii (because I'd get killed), and thought my life was over one day when I was showering at Makapuu when a 300 lb. Samoan asked me if I was local. Although a dead ringer for Howdy Dudey, I responded in my best pidgin and the gods must have been smilin' on me because I didn't get pounded. I didn't really have any leisure time so the surfing took a back seat to surviving. I had a Hawaiian girlfriend which was a blessing and a curse. She showed me the island through the eyes of a local and taught me not to be so haole (in mind and action), but it was hard at 20 to keep hearing her moms say how beautiful our kids were gonna be. Hawaii was a life-altering "watershed" for me. Nothing to do with surfing really, but I went through a tremendous personal growth and confidence building period (trial by fire) in a short time and it also altered my world view. My internship sucked but the Hawaiian experience was a gift. I returned to Hawaii the winter following my internship, to get a round like I couldn't as a student. I visited friends, traveled to Maui to see the whales, learned to drive a stick (not by choice), climbed Haleakala, and soaked up the Aloha.
Returned to Southampton College, graduated and went on to grad school for marine environmental research. Was accepted with scholarships to Oregon State University to study fisheries, and then the Univ. of South Florida at Tampa to study algal ecology, but during the Reagan Administration, grants for scholarships through the National Science Foundation were significantly reduced or eliminated so I had a coupla false starts before landing close by at the Marine Science Research Center at Stony Brook (State Univ. of NY).
Are you still with me? This is where I get my first standup board. It was a 6'4" G&S swallowtail; orange blank with an aquamarine deck and a single wooden fin with an eye-bolt contraption that locked the fin in place and anchored the leash. I bought it for $50 even though the tail was badly damaged, it had puncture holes in the deck, and there were stress cracks all along the nose half of the board - what the hell did I know?! I donned my beaver-tail scuba wetsuit and headed to Montauk. I remember vividly paddling out on a small choppy day. I approached a couple of guys in the water, politely explained that this was my first time and asked for any advice or pointers they could give me - to which they gingerly answered "GO HOME!" So much for stoke and aloha! The board got leaned against the wall. Four or five years passed as I finished my thesis, got a job at the Department of Environmental Conservation, and started working my way up the ladder.
As the eighties were coming to a close, I reestablished ties with my relatives in Virginia Beach. My cousin Scott took me surfing to Rodanthe, and we both had a good laugh as I got pounded. I saw sea turtles and dolphins in the surf though and the whole experience put a deep hook in me. We plotted for the purchase of my first new board. I was a good athlete Scott reasoned, I should be able to pick it up quick, so he recommended I buy a 6'4" WRV. It was a beautiful Frierson stick. It was a mistake! I struggled on my own for a couple of years trying to get up on that squirrely board, but to no avail. I finally sold it, and bought a 7'6" WRV egg-nosed fun shape. Rode my first real wave at Ditch Plains (made my first baby there too), and yes, I can remember the silence and hiss as I inadvertently peeled a prefect bottom turn. STOKE.
I started getting heavily into the Surfrider Foundation, marrying my marine science background and surfing enthusiasm. A fellow Surfrider, Paul Kadish, encouraged me to go long to increase my fun level and I'm indebted to him for that. I sold the 7'6" and got a Phoenix 9' single fin tank (the Spackler's favorite board). Keith Treco became interested in Surfrider and we started surfing together. While we were learning together (although not at the same speed, Keith had no fear and progressed rapidly), Keith was my guru. He would push me and support me, and he, more than anybody I've ever known since, has been my biggest surfing influence (snif snif). I'll never forget this one winter day we were surfing "Terraces" and I was holding on to these sick head high drops on my Phoenix (having to kick the nose to get it down in an offshore wind) and Keith was calling my board "amex". When I asked him why, he said that was because I was CHARGING IT ! We also shared my best surfing day ever - at Robert Moses. Keith, Chris Zilliotto (good friend and funniest guy I EVER met!), and I were getting perfect long hurricane swell lefts with only two other guys out. It was doubly sweet because Surfrider had spearheaded a three year effort to restore access to Robert Moses that many surfers probably still benefit from today.
I've been here in Virginia Beach for approximately three years. I work for the city of Norfolk; implementing the Chesapeake Bay Preservation Act. I also work as a kayak eco-tour guide (staff ecologist) for a variety of local operators. I helped to start a saltwater flyfishing club, the Virginia Coastal Fly Anglers, and am trying to get a guide service going. I'm secretary of the Virginia EcoToruism Association (VETA) and work on their natural resources conservation subcommittee.
I've surfed locally and down in the Banks at most of the spots. I've been active in Surfrider VA, but recently the chapter is going dormant and I'm getting tired of the Surfrider national scene and BS. I'll remain active locally as a resident and citizen, but for now the Surfrider flag waving is over. Most of the guys I surf with I met through Surfrider. Most of us are married with small children, and we try to pry each other away from family and responsibility to stay wet. It's a good crew. My nickname here is "Kneehigh" because I dragged our Surfrider prez out of bed at 4:30 am one morning to search for surf from Kitty Hawk to Frisco and all we could find was kneehigh surf (got wet though, sleep can wait!)
Still have my first board. Got the G&S fixed and re-glassed. Need to do some work on the fiberglass foot around the base of the fin but then I want to get it back in service. In addition to the G&S and Phoenix, I have a 9' tri-fin Stewart hydro hull, and a 7'6" WRV (my short board).
Glad to have been nominated for Kook status by the Keith Treco. Love to hear about the antics like the Hudson River plunge - Classic! Jealous about the trips - as soon as my wife returns to work and the kids get into school...... I'm there! I'll continue to offer my assistance to Kook environmental issues and will try to hookup on my semi-annual trips to Long Island. If kooks are coming to Hatteras or points south, drop in or give me a call for a surf. I may even be able to put a few Kooks up if they need a place to stay. My home phone is (757) 486-6735 and work is (757) 664-4369.
Until then, aloha aina (peace, love, and respect for the land),
Kevin
Rob D. Badass Rob
Better known as pitted_98. I don't post very often but when I do it's good stuff.
I've been surfing for close to 2 decades and have done a fair amount of traveling. (CR, Barbados, PR, St. John and Baja. all multiple times)
Ask my opinion of where to surf in any of these destinations and I will give you an honest answer.
Currently residing in North Jersey (Montclair) and surf LBI primarily. I can be found typically on 106th street jetti with a group of Beach Haven Park locals that I 've been surfing with for about 18 years.
My 2 latest additions to the quiver include a 7'2" ...lost fish and a 9'6" Yater Spoon. If I'm on the longboard you'll know it's me b/c it's 'Coke bottle green' and I don't think there is another board this color around.
I love LBI when it gets big in Sept/Oct and I can usually be found on Beach One or Wooden Jetty when the hurricane swells start pumping through. I wouldn't be caught dead at work on an offshore, overhead day.
See you all in the lineup. Charge it and get pitted!
Rob D.
-RD
VITAL KOOK INFO name: John D., aka the Duke
email: jdq@cris.com
Residence: Lower Manhattan
Origin: Hartford, CT
I have been haunting the Kooks list for a while now.
I went to school in Rhode Island and started surfing a bit there. In fact, my first day was one toasty February day at Narragansett town beach. Even my O'neil Oasis didn't really make this ideal learning conditions.
I've been active as a windsurfer since I was 13, as we didn't get a lot of swell at our Long Island Sound summer place in Westbrook, CT.
I spend a lot of time in Venezuela, where I like to windsurf and "habla la lengua" (I try). I also want to check out the surf there soon, which The Surf Report
states is "generally under estimated and under appreciated." If anyone wants to come, please let me know.If you want to check out some of my surfing and windsurfing photos you can visitDUKE's HOMEPAGE