Sunday, August 28, 2011





VA Beach Shocker Fest

The foul toothed hotel manager glared at Taylor and I, “Okay, that’ll be $309.10 please.” We glanced at each other astonished as the rate had just gone up $40 instead of the promised $20 we had just agreed upon mere minutes ago. “Wait a second” I pleaded, “You just told us it would be $20 more and now you’re saying its $40??” The reply “I told you 20 PERCENT, not $20…” A tape recorder of the conversation would’ve proved otherwise…

So there we were. Jetlagged as, in the most unfriendly, dirtiest, nowhere near the contest site hotel. The shocker of the year in Virginia Beach had just begun.

We awoke early, eager to get in the water, to find that the waves were almost nonexistent, but we were out there anyways, with Jared and Myself leading the charge out of the hotel room. We paddled out as the sun was rising, Jared caught one tiny wave, and then I stepped on what must’ve been at least a 3 foot shark. I put my foot down on its lower back, right above its tail, and in an instant it turned up towards my inner right thigh, I felt it’s lower teeth. Luckily my hand was already down in the water and I managed to hit it pretty solidly on the head, freaked out, “That was a Shark!!!” I yelled to Jared and we paddled in faster than green grass through a goose.

First session, total number of waves ridden: ONE.

Later that day we walked the 2 miles to the contest site and decided it was necessary to relocate into a nicer, closer hotel. Luckily the lady at the front desk of the Budget Lodge squeezed us in and we were out of our distant shithole by that afternoon. The next few days before the contest started consisted of groveling in the smallest waves known to man.

Contest started, and I made my first heat in second place with an 8 point heat total. Had to hassle a Hawaiian guy, and he was pretty upset about it. Here is the Facebook message he sent me after yelling at me in the water and then waiting for me on the beach so he could yell at me more. I think when I started laughing in his face it didn’t help very much…here's the message...

“Yo Dane I just want to let you know I talked with ASP head judge after our heat and if we would have bummed rails and I stood up you would have gotten a interference call...
You might want to read up on the ASP rule book.
Just to let you know that I'm still really pissed off about it “

Second heat was later that day, and I made that one too, with a 9 point heat total to make it into the money round the next day.

Woke up early with Taylor for a freesurf to find that the waves had finally picked up due to Hurricane Irene looming in the distance. Got a few fun waves, then paddled for this little wedgy left on the inside, caught an edge, and slammed my left hand into the sand pretty hard. It hurt. I paddled back out trying to shake it off, but got one more wave and went in. I would find out later that I had broken my hand. However I had to surf my heat around midday, and lost partly because I didn’t wait for the good waves, and partly because my hand was broken. After that I went straight to urgent care, and luckily they gave me a prime little brace and told me I was all sweet to keep surfing. Stoked.

That night. We flared. Our hotel room must’ve had at least 50 people in it at one point. Check out the pics, they’re pretty funny. The next day we were off to outrun the Hurricane, and later today we fly to Spain!

Thanks for reading,

Dane


Thursday, August 18, 2011

Fistral


France


Fistral to France

Recently embarked for England and France with the Thorne twins to do contests. The overnight flight from LAX to London Heathrow was a breeze thanks to Nyquil. Upon arrival we scooped up our rental car, threw the boards on top, and were cruising through the English countryside toward the quaint beach town of Newqauy, home of the annual 6 star Boardmasters comp at Fistral Beach.

Five hours later we arrived, frothing to surf after sitting for close to 24 hours, threw our luggage into the hotel(conveniently situated on the bluff overlooking the contest site), and were out there in fun waist high wedges.

The next few days consisted of surfing out front, 5 sessions a day for me… in average mushy beachbreak. I would come in from every session saying how fun it was, but the Thorne’s would look at me as if I was insane.

The swell picked up and I surfed my first heat in head high semi storm surf. Sat wide, picked off a couple good rights and made it through in second. The next morning the swell had dropped but it was still waist to chest high, clean and fun. I couldn’t manage to find any waves until halfway through the heat. I got a good right from the outside, did two turns and a layback for a 6.5. All I needed was a 5.1, with 2 minutes to go a wedging left came right to me, took off, did one turn, and fell bottom turning into the best second section ever. I yelled so loud as I was falling. Had I done one more turn I would've got the score for sure. F#$@

Sick of the foggy, misty, rainy, mushy English environment, we were stoked to hop on a plane to head for the warmth and sexiness that could only be provided by the French. Flying into Bordeaux, we scooped up our rental car, got lost 3 times, and made it to the small town of Lacanua for the Sooruz Lacanau Pro. We were greeted by a wedgy sandbar, warm water, and a plethora of hot females flocking the beaches. France is on fire.

Back into contest mode. Surfed my first heat in waist/chest high fun sunny waves and managed to get a 5.87 and a 7.6 to win the heat. Stoked. Next day the swell dropped in the morning, tide was going out, and I couldn’t find any good ones and lost out.

Next its off to Virginia for a 4 star, then back to Spain for two more contests. But for now we’re still in France about to go eat some baguettes and cruise the beaches for topless chicks, not a bad way to spend a day with no waves!

Cheers,

Dane