CAVEMAN CHRONICLES

This looks sick...

2011-09-04T11:00:00.001-07:00

EDITON29 - It's Better In The Wind Clip from Scott Toepfer on Vimeo.

in pursuit

2011-07-10T18:39:00.000-07:00

in pursuit from adam Herron on Vimeo.

2011-07-08T17:56:00.001-07:00

2011-07-04T10:15:00.001-07:00

I.D.W.P from Edwin Europe on Vimeo.

Outside

2011-06-25T18:13:00.000-07:00

Outside from adam Herron on Vimeo.

2011-06-23T04:31:00.000-07:00

Coolest guy on the internet by far. Check out his moto-art blog, SHINYA KIMURA

Honey Badger project photos and words coming soon.

2011-06-22T18:31:00.001-07:00

Now that I own a motorcycle, I'm thinking about getting some leggings and joining some pagans.

2011-06-21T18:08:00.000-07:00

From Irish hell-man Fergal Smith's sick blog, LATELY, A spot I frequently frequent. After watching this clip--I hope to be frequenting left slabs in Indo soon.

p.s. (They have nice motorcycles there...)

2011-06-21T04:35:00.001-07:00

Thanks Skillet, for the link.

MOTORCYCLES

2011-06-21T04:30:00.001-07:00

2011-06-21T04:26:00.001-07:00

MOTORCYCLES

2011-06-21T04:19:00.000-07:00

2011-06-21T03:53:00.001-07:00

Dad

2011-06-19T06:31:00.000-07:00

My Dad has inspired me to love so many things about this life.

Hike

Fish

Surf

Sail

Journey

Explore

Adventure

Care

Give

Help

Fight

Stand

Sit

Play

Respect

Moto

Art

Music

It just goes on and on, but I gotta go, were sailing the boat down the bay. Aloha Dad.

Mine and Adam's favorite activity with the old man. Sit on the couch, watch boxing, drink beer. I miss my brother.

2011-06-17T03:25:00.000-07:00

I watch this every, single, morning.

2011-06-16T03:33:00.000-07:00

Saw this a while back on my buddy Allens blog. Had to steal it for my dog friends.

2011-06-08T18:44:00.001-07:00

MUSIC VIDEO RIDING SEPTEMBER from Hush on Vimeo.

2011-05-30T17:52:00.000-07:00

Jet Power Surfboard

2011-05-09T16:47:00.000-07:00

Dammit, I actually had this idea a few years back after a session of pulling into close out tubes in the outer banks. My thinking was, what if you could pull into a closeout and engage some kind of jet on your board and fire through the barrel at like 60 miles an hour. Now that I've seen it done, it kind of worries me. Between stand up paddle boards and these things how are we going to catch waves in the lineup anymore. Mayhem could ensue.

Thanks mum for the link.

Back to Work

2011-05-08T07:54:00.000-07:00

Here's a stunt from my first week back at work.

Stunts keep me sane, I do a lot of them, this one really made me feel alive. Expect more of these as there doesn't seem to be much surfing in my near future. I'd like to dedicate this stunt to mom. Happy Mothers Day.

Ranger Movie

2011-04-15T23:01:00.000-07:00

Unlike my brother and myself who have had almost everything we have ever owned given to us, our old man didn't have much as a kid--if he wanted something he had to work for it. He's worked all kinds of crazy jobs in his life and has many stories about doing weird stuff like holding up targets in a shooting range, or working on farms chasing chickens, or laying bricks in Philly town. And so when it came time for my Dad to get his first ride, an old Austin Healy Roadster, he had to basically teach himself how to build the thing from scratch. Well he got that thing runnin and believe me he's got all kinds of stories about that car and how he used to jump the thing down hills, and race it all over town, and most importantly work on it. Well it didn't stop there.

Pretty much my whole life I've seen and helped my Dad work on all sorts of automobiles from old tear drop vans, to a nice Porsche 911, to countless Saab's, to all kinds of motorcycles, street and dirt bikes alike. Most of the time as we would work on these cars I would just hold the flashlight, or hand over a screwdriver, or wrench, or at times, a hammer, but eventually as I got older I learned how to do some of this stuff myself. I can remember the first job I actually helped on was when we replaced the clutch in our old red chevy blazer, how my Dad let me unbolt the thing and how when, covered in grease and cursing from under the jacked up truck because we couldn't figure out how to twist and turn the transmission the right way to get it out, my Dad actually asked me for my opinion and wether it helped or not, it was cool to bend my mind towards a puzzle he was working on. I really think these experiences have helped me a lot in life as I always feel like I can solve a problem, and if I can't I at least know how to string together a proper row of curse words!

Anyway I've seen my Dad do some crazy jobs on cars, from simple little oil changes, to full on engine replacements. I remember one time a piece of plastic from inside the engine of one of our little red saabs broke off and got lodged in a port that pumped oil through a very important section of the engine and the thing seized up on me on stone harbor boulevard--the front tires just stopped still at 55 mph and I screeched sideways across the road almost spinning out into the marsh. I remember we got the thing towed home and my dad pulled the engine apart, picked out all the tiny metal flakes and dust and sand blasted the thing, put some extra thick motor oil in and somehow got it running again. Another time I remember when my sister ran a car out of oil and when it seized he just straight dropped a new engine in the damn thing with a pulley system he rigged from a branch in an old oak tree in the yard.

Nowadays as Adam and I have gotten older, out of both respect and gratitude to our Father we try to do as much maintenance as we can on our vehicles and we're getting pretty good. Adam, I must admit is perhaps a bit better than I with a couple of alternator jobs, belt replacements, water pump replacements, and a radiator replacement just a few months ago on the truck we're sharing now out here in Hawaii, but I also always try to do what I can, changing oil when it needs be, changing batteries, brakes, exhaust systems, plugging tires, replacing belts, and just generally trouble shooting whatever comes my way. I've come to love this stuff, workin on a car, drinking some beer, and talking some shit with my brother or dad or whoever I can drag into the job.

So anyway, Adam and I have had to do quite a bit of work on our little Ford Ranger this winter and above is a little taste of how it usually goes down. Here's to the next job, and to our old man for teaching us how to enjoy working on cars wether we fix em or not.

In Sea TV !!!!

2011-04-09T15:23:00.000-07:00

INSEA.tv

Shoots! Dakine new In-Sea.tv episode "Salt Free," is up, Check em by clicking the link above, or in the side bar to da right. Shoots!

I gotta say Ryan's a pretty funny guy, as you can see from the always hilarious out-takes at the end of each episode, but he's also a really good guy, really dedicated to his passion, which I can't really put my finger on because he's into so many different things, I guess you could say basically his passion is just simply, life in general. The guy loves life, which makes him an awesome person to be around, and always inspired by. Shoots.

SEVENTEEN FEET AT SEVENTEEN SECONDS

2011-03-17T12:42:00.000-07:00

Note: (The following story does not intend to glorify or draw any special attention to feats attempted by myself, or more importantly by my brother on the morning of March 15, 2011. Big wave surfing is something that has been around since the very first surfer dared to put his or her head down and scratch into a wave just for the hell of it. I think you will find it quite clear in the words that follow that Adam and I are both extremely novice in such areas, and have only just begun our separate journeys in search of these kinds of rare oceanic conditions. Instead, here, with the following prose, I wish only to record the account of a simple adventure; an adventure that I'm sure neither of us will ever forget.)

On Tuesday, March 15th 2011, Adam woke up at 4:00 am and started cooking breakfast.

Around 4:30 am I woke up and instantly became aware of a faint drumming coming from somewhere far away.

Leaning out over the balcony of my bedroom, blinking myself out of a dream, I looked down on my younger brother the kitchen...

"Adam," I mumbled, still mostly asleep.

"Yes bri?" he answered moodily as he often is this early in the morning.

"You making some breakfast?" I inquired.

"Yup," he answered pensively.

"Make me some," I implored.

"You want some?" He answered raising his eyebrows, but still not looking up.

"Yea, I want some," I said.

"Ok, I'll make you some," He replied, not skipping a beat, not looking up, not showing any kind of emotion or recognition of the fact that it was four in the morning and more importantly that he too heard the quiet but persistent sound of a drum drumming from some place far away.

I went back to sleep (if you want to call it that, basically I was just trying to stay calm and not worry too much about what we were about to do.)

What we were about to do became quite clear to us the night before as at 9:50 pm on Monday Oahu's north shore buoys began to spike around 17 feet at 17 seconds. We knew this could correlate to ocean wave face heights reaching well into the thirty to forty foot range, (15 to 20ft+ Hawaiian scale) the next day and as it takes about 9 hours for a swell to hit once it shows up on the outer buoys we could expect to see the swell peak the following morning at around 6:00 am.

We pretended to go to sleep.

At around 5:00 am Tuesday, my breakfast was ready.

"Bri, your up," Adam said bluntly, knowing that I was nearly back to sleep, or maybe paralysis, or whatever you want to call it.

I got up. Put a light on. Put on my trunks. And went downstairs.

I felt sick and my head was swimming and still, there was drumming.

At the bottom of the stairs Adam handed me a plate. The plate had brown rice and two eggs on it. The rice was soggy.

I poured myself a glass of country orange juice and went back up to the sanctuary of my room, turned on my connection to the outside world (computer) and began watching cartoons to try to stop myself from thinking about the dark, angry, Pacific outside my window.

Adam went into the living room, put on his favorite surf film, "Five Summer Stories," and quietly ate his breakfast. Neither of us said a word.

The drumming grew louder.

At around 5:15 we both finished eating and began moving around--quietly getting things in order, grabbing supplies; wax, water, wetsuits, cameras, two basic "big wave" leashes (ten feet long and very thick) and two old school "big wave" surfboards.

I should mention here that neither Adam, nor I owned the surfboards we chose to take with us this day, and had our good friend Glaze not lent them to us, our mission would have been impossible. As it was Adam was still very under-gunned (not having a big enough surfboard) with his Hawaiian made, teal blue 9'6 Barry Kanaiaupuni, and it would have been extremely difficult for me to catch any wave in the 15ft+ (Hawaiian) range with my Owl Chapman shaped 9'2 mango-yellow single-fin, but I was recently crippled by the reef at pipeline, and with two broken toes had little ambition to actually catch any waves this day.

(GLAZE)

But more on all that later as now we were in the mental battle that every surfer has to deal with when the surf is big and he, or she hears it calling.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

As I said, it was early in the morning, Adam and I were getting things in order for the mission, and it felt like we were going against a wall.

After eating I instantly felt my stomach sickly drop into my feet making them drag heavily as I slowly moved about the place looking for excuses to waste time.

"Quit dragging your feet, " Adam finally said as we were almost ready to go and I continued to wander around the house like a lost child.

Adam had now moved through the worry phase of the morning and was rapidly, and quietly I might add, switching over into the amped state one must mentally summon to get them through a mission such as the one we were about to embark on. The drumming was getting louder, faster, and harder for him to ignore.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

5:30 am, Tuesday, and were on the road, but before we could head north we had to make a quick stop to pick up a friend.

Megumi, a friend of a friend was visiting from Japan and wanted to see the big surf, so we took her along for the ride. Megumi was about 25 years old, very happy, very nice, and very good to have around with her small english vocabulary, and pretty round face always smiling and laughing. I especially was glad to have her along as she offered us a distraction from the wild surf awaiting us on the north shore, also we were both eager to reach out and befriend this girl in leu of what had just happened to her homeland. And so under the still shining stars we greeted Megumi Hawaiian style with a hug and a kiss on the cheek and then hit the road.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The drumming continued.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

6:00 am: the eastern sky began to turn a lighter blue and my friend matt called with a surf report.

ring... ring...

"Hey Matt, good morning," I said.

"Hey good morning Brian," answered Matt in his gruff John Wayne way.

I told Matt that we were getting a bit of a late start and asked,

"What's going on up there?"

"It's big." Matt answered, kind of quietly, kind of distractedly, as he went on to say, "I can't really see it yet, but I can tell it's big, it's loud--I'm going to look at pipe, maybe phantoms, Waimea, and then head back towards you guys. Give me a call when you get closer."

I hung up and instantly felt even more paralyzed. The drumming increased suddenly and rapidly and made it even harder for me to focus. I haven't known Matt for too long, but just talking to the guy you can tell he's serious about life. When he said that it was big, I instantly knew that I wasn't going out.

I put down the phone and declared, "I'm not going out," to Adam and Megumi from the little drop seat in the back of our Ford Ranger. Getting no answer from either of them accept a little giggle from Megumi, I put the seat up, laid down on the floor and listened to their broken conversation about Japan, Hawaii, and surfing.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

At 6:30 am we hit the pineapple fields and Adam got his first look at the surf.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The sun had not quite risen but there was enough light in the sky now to see the huge rows of white water marching in across the outer reefs.

"See that big left pushing in across the horizon just above the pine trees," he told Megumi, "that's Hammerheads," he said, and then he began laughing nervously as he suddenly exclaimed, "It's huge!"

I couldn't handle this. So I sprung up and got my first look at the swell.

It was huge. It looked like something out of Jurassic Park as Ehukai (sea spray) from the huge surf pounding into the jagged coast had spread out across the valley below and up into the lower regions of the ominous Mt. Kaala above--I closed my eyes and listened to the drumming and as it became increasingly louder, and increasingly faster and I suddenly looked back into the bed of the truck half expecting to see some ancient Hawaiian warrior there covered in black tattoos smiling insanely and beating wildly at his shark skin drum... Instead I saw only the two old surfboards, an old gas can, and a bunch of empty beer bottles. I shook my head and turned back to the Pacific.

The Pacific, looked like a well organized army. Lines of surf, shrouded in mist, moved in slowly from the deep, and as they came into contact with the outer reefs each magnificent swell fell forward in a stunning display of both violence and beauty--each wave it's own waterfall.

The watery areas inside the reefs were milky white and I could tell even from this great distance and height, miles away, that they were swirling and disturbed, and no place for a human being and again I declared, "Man Adam, I don't think I'm going out."

Megumi giggled some more and looked back at me through her seat...

"Not for you?" she asked.

"I guess not," I answered trying to make myself believe that there was some way I could actually enter this crazy ocean.

And, "Bri if you don't want to go out, thats fine," Adam said with conviction in his voice, and I could tell that he had already made up his mind about the situation, that the drummer was now his friend and that with each beat he grew more excited to put on his leash and paddle out into the maelstrom at the bottom of the hill.

"Lets just get down there and see what's going on," I answered nervously as I laid back down and clutched my stomach.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Finally we reached the bottom of the hill, and upon seeing our friend Matt's SUV we instantly knew that if we were going to have a go, this was the spot.

Adam pulled the truck up next to Matt's and jumped out to have a word. Matt was waxing up his ten foot gun and as they discussed the conditions in simple terms I snuck off into the brush to try to throw-up.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I came out to the bushes just in time to catch Matt as he quickly and determinedly walked his wiry frame towards the surf.

"Going for it huh?" I mumbled trying to sound tough, indifferent, and un-afraid.

"Yeah, I only have a little time," he answered surprising me with his matter of fact tone, as if he was going for a sunday morning longboard session at Chuns. And I thought to myself, "forget about work man, you just gotta focus on surviving right now," but what I said was, "Oh work huh, ok, ahh, well have fun man." But it didn't matter, the drumming was so loud around us that Matt could hardly talk and with each powerful beat my indecision stirred the grey places of my mind into a hot passionate goo.

"Ok man," was all he said as he turned and quickened his pace, and I had to yell out to him when I suddenly realized that I had no idea where or how to paddle out.

"Hey Matt," I yelled.

"Yo," he answered as he stopped and patiently turned towards me.

"How do you get out I stammered," letting on that I was scared and obviously novice to this kind of surfing, but willing to make the sacrifice in pride for some knowledge that might save my life.

"Ahh, I'm not really sure," was his honest reply and, "Just kind of try to thread the needle I guess," he suggested as he paused for a moment looking me in the eye and then seeing that I was mentally in limbo, he turned again to his path and left me to my own.

(Misty Mt. Ka'ala, the tallest peak on Oahu.)

I walked, or hobbled really, slowly back to the truck with my broken toes and saw that Adam was amping hard. The drumming now as we stood this close to the surf had grown out of control and it was insane and chaotic and as Adam prepared himself for the sea it was clear that he was in tune to it's rhythm. I closed my eyes, listened intently and tried to believe in myself. I tried to believe that my going into this sea would not risk either my own life, or the possible lives of other's who might try to help me should I get into trouble. I thought about those people, about the lifeguards, about my friends, hero's, and family... my thoughts became hyper and confusing and red and I opened my eyes and Adam had his board under his arm and he was looking at me and he was smiling.

"I'm going," he said.

"Ok, I'm coming with you," I answered against the will of my conscious mind, but letting the moment make the decision for me.

And, "Ok," was Adams answer, and he sounded confident when he said it. This made me feel good and instantly I began to build on that feeling. Inside my chest I knew I could do this. We said good bye to Megumi, gave her the keys to the truck, and slowly made our way across the Kamehameha highway and down the soft tan sand of the beach to a spot we thought would be a good place to depart from the earth for a while.

As we put our leashes on I looked out into the white place Matt suggested I "thread the needle" through and realized what he meant. Out there, in the blue, nearly a mile away, giant perfect lefts were peeling into an obvious channel where they backed off only to reform and in one great big wall of water closeout the entire inside area before us. If we could time it right, we would only need to take one or two of those big closeouts on the head and with luck, we might be able to bust our way into the outside channel. But first we had to deal with the endless walls of mean looking white, green, blue, and brown water, as they moved across the inside reef pulling up sand and seaweed, and whatever else wasn't clinging tightly to the bottom. It was daunting.

Before I could really suggest any kind of plan Adam ran to the surf, board in hand, and dove out like happy child entering the sea for the first time. I wanted to do the same, but with my toes freshly broken all I could muster was a fast hobble.

I remember hitting the water and hearing the sound of the drums fade and blend into the sound of the surf as it thundered across the outside reef, and as it did a sort of calm came over me. I was in survival mode, paddling hard, trying to catch my brother, and quickly wasting all my energy.

Suddenly a wall of white water, about six feet high, bore down on me. I knew there was no way I could duck dive the almost four inch thick Brewer I was lying on so I ditched my board and swam down into the blackness under the wave.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was like swimming into outer space.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Under the water, for the first time in my life I felt a sense of how greatly immense this huge wet part of our world was--things were unusually dark and turbulent under there, and I remember instantly wanting to get to the surface--instantly feeling as if I was nothing--a flea--a speck of dust, and that in this wild and indifferent place my life could be washed away at any moment. I reached the surface, grabbed my leash, pulled my board to me, climbed up frantically, sat up and looked back towards shore... I was about ten yards from the sand.

Adam, at this point wasn't faring much better and again I tried to catch him, calming myself as I went realizing that this wasn't going to be easy or something I could rush for I knew that if I was going to make it to the outer reef I had to be smart with my energy and calm and precise with my mind.

Soon I learned how to paddle through the foamy, airy water, and after a few good decisions I caught up with Adam. Side by side now we pushed foreword to the main inside impact zone, and as I glanced over to him the serious look in his eye told me he was thinking exactly the same thing I was: were about to get it!

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

And we did. Soon enough the inside horizon turned a brownish black and we knew a set was approaching. The first wave of this set did not break, and a more foolish surfer might have thought himself clear and safe as he paddled up it's smooth face, but Adam and I were too smart for that, and as we paddled up the thing we braced for something horrible. As we reached the crest of the first wave of the set and saw the heaving lip of the second wave it's hard to say what kind of thoughts passed through our minds. Maybe we worried that we were too close together and that we might get wrapped up in the soup under water, or maybe we worried that there might be a third, even bigger wave behind the second as there usually is, or maybe perhaps we thought of things more abstract like a soft bed, a girl, or the sunset--in any case the wave mowed us down hard and we each dealt with it in our own way.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I think it was me who popped up first, because I can clearly remember seeing Adam smiling as he came out from the other side of that wave. Once again I pulled my board to myself via my leash, climbed up and took a quick surveillance of the horizon. Flatness. I was stoked, and as I stroked harder now for the outside Adam caught up to me. We looked over to each-other with cautious smiles and paddled out as fast as we could into the ominous, electric, silence.

Mt. Ka'lala as seen from the lineup leading out to Ka'ena Point--Ka'ena was thought of by the ancient Hawaiians of O'ahu as a Leina Kauhane (Soul's Leap), a jumping off point from which the 'uhane (spirit) of the dead jumped to the underworld. If the leap was successful the 'uhane entered Po, the realm of the spirits. It was here at Ka'ena Point that they would follow the sun to their eternal night. If the person lived an honest life his or her 'aumakua (family ancestral deities) would welcome the 'uhane to their realm. Surfing in the shadow of this mountain range is a great honor no matter what ones ancestry happens to be.

When I look back into my mind, this part of the story gets a little blurry, perhaps because of the fear I felt paddling into the presence of this great wilderness, with it's mindless roaming beasts and endless deep. I can remember that we paddled for a long time and that it seemed like forever before we saw another person. And that we kept quiet as we went.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

When we finally did see another person it was Matt, and as I spotted him I broke the silence saying, "There they are Adam, about a hundred yards to the west." And I remembered how Adam could not see them at first, how they looked like a tiny flock of seabirds so far away and huddled together almost as if they were about to flap their wings and fly off together in search of some distant land.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

And took flight they did, for as we got closer to the pack, the first real set of the day, or, of my life I should say, appeared on the horizon. Relatively it was a small set of waves, at least in the minds of those who chase these things down on a regular basis, but to us they were cetacean. As we made our final approach on the pack the horizon began to slowly change colors from a deep and dark blue, then as we got closer to a purplish grey , and then finally, as we paddled our last few strokes into the channel the entire lower part of the sky out over the sea reared up brownish and black, and it began to hiss as it went.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

And then, from the relative safety of the channel, and in complete awe, Adam and I watched a surfer as he quickly swung around on his bright yellow board, paddled madly as if he was paddling for his life, slowly getting lifted by this hissing brown, green, and black bomb of a wave until he was precariously positioned in it's foaming lip, and at the last possible second, and with absolute reckless abandon, jump to his feet and like a some grand albatross with his wings spread wide, flew out across the thirty or forty feet of beyond vertical wave face before us at a speed I have never seen before in the natural ocean... the wave hissing, then screaming, then roaring as the surfer dive-bombed down into the flats, and then suddenly and almost instantly disappeared into the crisp whiteness of the waves teeth. I choked on my stomach, tried to breath, grunted, smiled, and then screamed.

(If you look really hard you can see Keoni Watson here in the white-water, bottom turning on a really, really deep one. I couldn't help but scream.)

The surfer, was Keoni Watson, a well known waterman from the west side of Oahu--the real Oahu--and I don't think I took a real breath until I saw his board pop up 200 yards away in the vast and soupy impact zone. "Ok!" I thought, smiling to myself, "how do I get back to the beach?"

But Adam was on it, and in an almost zombie like trance he paddled away from me and on up into the outskirts of the pack. With my broken toes and "tiny" 9'2 surfboard I opted to stay in the channel and try to get a few shots without getting cleaned up by a wide one. "Go easy," I said as he paddled away, and he did not look back.

Once again, this part of the session is foggy in my mind, as I think perhaps I was also in a trance, and as I look back I can only recall fragments of what I saw...

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

One fragment I remember quite clearly was a horrific wipeout I witnessed and filmed and as I close my eyes now I can see every psycho detail as if the magnificent wave is once again frozen before me with the surfer perfectly suspended in time, upside down, arms and legs wildly stretched out, deep in the belly of the Pacific. As I walk up into this scene in my mind and observe the magic colors of the deepest chamber of the inside barrel and the painfully construed face of the surfer floating there as he prepared himself for the almost two wave hold down he was about to experience even with his floatation vest securely strapped to his chest, I can almost hear how nonchalant he was as he paddled up to me about 45 minutes later and asked to see the clip.

Another fragment I can summon from the session was when once again surfer Keoni Watson paddled into a wave, this one bigger than the first, the biggest of the day perhaps, and as he passed by me, not 50 yards away how very concisely I thought to myself, "this is the most radical, and most special display of nature and I have ever seen."

Then it was time to go in. I remember I had been sitting there, watching these glorious feats by these men of the sea, by these people I had so much admiration and respect for and knowing perfect contentment for both Adam and myself, knowing no loss of pride for not catching any of these crazy waves, and just being so happy that I got the chance to witness such a spectacle. It was time for us to accept what we saw as a learning experience and get the hell out while things were still good. Then something truly magical happened. Adam caught a wave.

I was sitting there in the channel, getting cold and wanting to go in when I looked up and saw my little brother paddling for a wave as big as the house we grew up in. He paddled and I held my breath. He paddled and I couldn't believe it, this was his chance, this was the moment we had both been waiting for. As he got lifted up by the wave I became hysterical. I laughed and screamed and cursed and was happy. When he caught that big wave and finally stood up, we both stood up, and together, we climbed up onto a new plateau of the wave riding experience. The wave itself was nothing especially special, it was not the biggest wave of the day, and certainly not something the men out there would consider a great feat to ride, but for us it was everything, it meant we could do it, we could survive out there in those conditions and begin to know the ocean in that strange way only those few do.

(Adam bottom turning on a solid one with Mt. Ka'ala in the backround)

Then shortly after the first wave, Adam caught another even bigger one. The second wave he shared with one of the gnarliest big wave, north shore watermen ever to live and Adam was honored to ride a wave with him. It was time to celebrate.

(Adam shares a wave with one of his hero's)

We paddled in almost the same way we came out. Got washed through the inside. Reached the sand, and each on our own, took a deep breath and one good long look out at the crazy Pacific we had just escaped. When we reached the truck, Megumi walked up to us and asked, "surf was good?" And, "Yes," we answered quietly glancing shortly at each other and then back to the sea, and then smiling as brightly as I have ever seen him smile Adam went on to say,"I need a beer," and we all laughed.

The End

2011-03-14T16:01:00.000-07:00

すぐによく得て下さい

2011-03-12T13:55:00.000-08:00

Yesterday there was a tsunami where I am living, and I think I might have broken my foot. Now I'm feeling bad for Japan, angry at myself for being stupid, and worried about things I have no control over.

I keep thinking about this little girl from one of the classes I often substitute teach. She is about five years old, part Japanese, part caucasian, and just the sweetest little person I have ever known. She has single handedly made me a better person, just with her little smile. Well anyway this little girl was born completely deaf and has recently had an operation that has allowed her to hear. She wears her hair back and has these little antennas that stick out behind her ears, which connect to her head via magnets placed beneath her skin. She can hear and talk almost perfectly with them on, though she is very shy and hardly says anything until you get to know her. Without them she is completely deaf. Anyway she is fine and she is going to have a great life as her Father is a teacher at a prestigious private school out here (and a surfer I might proudly add!) and her Mom is a really nice and pretty little Japanese lady (not sure what she does for a living) and she's just a really smart, really bright little star. Anyway what I'm getting at is I have come to really care about this little one and it's killing me to know how many children like her have either lost their lives or are living in suffering over in Japan now. I keep having visions of kids like her over there and it's just really sad and gnarly what has happened to those people and to many other people across the world everyday. I think it's pretty easy to sit back, eat a snickers, and just flip the channel, or flip off that part of my mind to that part of our reality. This is how I've lived and looked at the world for a long time, but I'm finding it harder and harder everyday. Especially as I make myself more aware, but then I get to this point where I'm like shit, what the hell can I do about any of this stuff, and do I want to do anything at all, can I handle what that entails or do I just go on the way most of us do and quietly think about something else. I know what happened was a natural disaster and thats just a part of life, and that life is just really hard sometimes, and that it could easily get a lot harder for me and mine, I don't know, I guess I'm just ranting.

Anyway I was surfing small pipe with Cave brother yesterday thinking about all of this stuff and trying to impress the heavy hitters in the water at the same time as they were the real deal pipe crew and I am always striving to improve on my spot out there. I took off on a deep left kind of from aints, (aint pipe-aint off the wall=aints) a spot that runs into really shallow water in front of backdoor and anyway I tried to hit the lip on the inside and dug my nose and went over the falls into dry sticking out of the water reef. I guess I'm happy I didn't go face first and like rip my face off or something, but I went down on my feet and just racked them across the reef with a lot of force. At one point my right foot cot caught in a little crack and twisted and I pretty much smashed it really hard. Now it's all swoll and I'm not sure if it's broke and a huge northwest is going to hit in a few days. I really wanted to surf Himalayas on this swell, been dreaming about it, but now it's not going to happen. I guess it could be worse.

But thats ok, because now I have the opportunity to make a really good little film about surfing without worrying about missing any surf because if my foot still feels like this in a few days, there's no way I could handle 10ft plus Hawaiian surf. The film will showcase the skills of my little brother who is on his way to becoming quite the waterman. The screening will be availabe on the blog shortly after the swell, please wear a tie when you watch it.

(Cavebrother age 9, watches closely as Caveboy age14, bottom turns on a nice little right at the lighthouse in Buxton OBX NC)

Adam Grew up having to watch me surf. Now it's my chance to watch him. No pressure bradda.

Grandpa Dunn

2011-02-09T23:50:00.000-08:00

This week marks the second year since my Moms Dad's passing. I have a lot of great memories of the guy, but the one that always seems to stick out in my mind is his old fashioned pair of big black boots that always sat at the top of the stairs to the cellar. Seemed like they were always there, except, of course, when he was wearing them to work in the yard; chopping wood for the old wood stove in the living room, shoveling endless amounts of snow throughout the cold winter, or maybe just cruising around the yard. He was a man that took really good care of his house because it took care of his most prized possession... his family.

From right to left, Uncle Bob, Aunt Diane, Aunt Doris, Mom, and Grandpop--he was a real man's man, and he loved his huge family like any good man does.

Clip O' The Day

2011-02-07T08:17:00.000-08:00

Pictures of the day.

2011-02-06T08:00:00.000-08:00

Last summer about a week after my return from Oahu I joined Lord Eric and the hamster for an unexpected New Jersey treat--an Avett Brothers show.

The show was really fun--set out in the country, on this huge farm. (Yes New Jersey has farms) I have to admit I was a little let down with the pop sound of all the newer Avett songs, but it was still a rad time just being there as kids were playing in the grass, bees were buzzing, butterflies were floating, and we were drinking many good beers.

It was really nice to be home and around the trees and people I grew up with. As much as I love Hawaii and other parts of the world, there will always be a place in my heart for New Jersey.

The funniest part of the trip was dinner. After the show we went to this weird old diner out there near elmer somewhere and ordered some food. Now, Country folk in New Jersey are quite unique as they always seem to be slightly touched by a kind of back woods weirdness. The three of us walked into this diner and it was almost like a record scratched to silence. Us boys weren't from around there. By the end of dinner our older waitress was literally trying to marry off the younger ones to us. I had catfish. It was fun.

Adam, the running fool.

Head Full of Doubt (Amazing Song)

Though I didn't really like the newer pop sounding songs, I gotta say the Avett Brothers are still an amazing band. I got into them a few years back via the Jaime Hunter gang and still to this day when I hear their music, memories of tall pine Carolina backyard barbecue missions to Mase fishin singin and surfin and just plain old doin nothin and hangin around and smiling come to mind. Their music is goodness.

After the show we walked back to the huge field we parked in and to our surprise the darkness around us was shimmering with a strange fluorescent green glow. More fireflies than I have ever seen--it almost looked as if they were blinking in patterns as billions of them shimmered in waves across the field, trees and sky around us.

Heres a cool Avett Bro's Video for you to check out if you've never heard their music before. This video's cool cause it's the song they were playing at the show we were at (shown above) in it's entirety. This songs kind of a slower one, it doesn't really depict the full sound of the band, but it's a really good one so I put it up any way. ok bye.

My Old Man

2011-02-03T09:39:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid I became obsessed with the act of riding waves. I can still remember what surfing was like to me then, and how pure the experience was before I became the jaded water person I am today. I remember mostly the smells of things. The smell of wax and the sound it made in the middle of the night as I waxed up a board, too excited about the morning to be able to sleep. Man I miss being that excited about tomorrow. And I can remember the surf shops, how magical they were to me with all their cases of stickers and wax-- surfboards hung up on the ceilings like stars so mysterious and magical--and real surfers with long hair and early 90's grunge looks influenced by guys like Eddie Vedder and Kurt Cobain who gave the whole world this deep emotional undertone of cool that I instantly became enamored with. I did a lot of stuff when I was a kid; rode bikes, rode dirt-bikes, played sports, did Tae Kwan Do with my Dad, played with my friends, the list goes on and on, but I never really attached myself to any of this stuff, then I caught a wave on a surfboard and I have never come across a better way to identify myself since.

The funny thing about all this is my Dad's response. Now, don't get me wrong, he liked the beach and cruising in the water, but he didn't take to surfing like I did back then, he didn't let himself understand it because he was so driven by other things like being a good family man and playing his guitar. It's funny, some of the most poignant memories I have of growing up a surfer is being pissed at my Dad for not letting me go, for not understanding that surfing was not a want, but a need. And again, don't get me wrong, pops was a great supporter of my surfing, but he was also a great supporter of something I have always lacked in--responsibilities.

I can vividly remember this one swell when I was around, I don't know, maybe 13--in my mind it was sick, blue, warm, head high, no one out, and all my friends calling and networking all morning on how we were going to get to the beach to surf, and I couldn't go, why, I had to rototill the whole yard with my Dad. Awe, I remember being so pissed at him as he taught me one of my first and most important lessons about surfing which is: there will always be another wave. Anyway what I'm getting at is now a days all my Dad wants to do is go surfing. Ha, and I hear him gripe all the time about having to cut the grass, or work on a car or fix something in the house, because "110 is going off right now Brian we should be out there," ha, he's become obsessed, and just doesn't want to do any of that other stuff anymore, he just wants to go surfing because now, he truly is a surfer.

The old man's got a pretty good style, check out the tally ho around ten seconds into this clip courtesy of Dave Mccarty.

Hahahaha, the music is awesome...

Happy Birthday Dad.

What's the Matter With Kids Today?

2011-02-01T12:57:00.000-08:00

Prafter.com showcased this piece on Education a few months ago. I just wanted to post it up here again to try to keep this message alive--I feel like this kind of thinking could lead to a lot of positive changes in our world. And you know what, I think the most important thing about the ideas suggested in this piece is that they are obvious and simple. I feel like we all know deep down inside that certain things in are world are not right, but we look away from that knowledge. Sometimes we look away because it's easier, sometime we are scared of the consequences of standing up for what we know is right, but in the end, if we just listen to that voice of truth within us all, I think maybe we could end a lot of the suffering we see around us today.

Sunday

2011-01-23T14:33:00.000-08:00

Today is Sunday. Lotta stuff I could do today. Go surfing I could. I'm not going to though. Gotta do some other stuff today, I'll surf again soon. Maybe Wednesday. I'm writing on the blog again. Haven't been writing anything in a while, but I'm writing again now so if you wanna read it or look at it then thats cool.

Adam and I had the best surfing experience of our lives yesterday. We rode some big waves together. He's getting pretty darn good--Adam--we both learned a lot. Mostly, it was just fun though. It was ten feet Hawaiian. Lefts. Outer reef. Perfect.

This is kind of what the waves we surfed looked like.

I don't know why the text turned blue now after uploading that drawling, but I'm just gonna leave it like that if thats ok with you. Anyway, yeah we were on top of the world yesterday after that session. We both got barreled and did big fades and drew big kine lines. It was new territory for us because we became sort of comfortable. We switched back and forth between the 9'2 Owl shaped Brewer single fin and the big 7'6 Tokoro pipeline gun. The Tokoro was a bit difficult at first, but if you took off in the right spot it was doable. Watching each-other paddle into waves was exciting. I remember watching Adam paddle into a particularly sweet inside eight footer. He was on the Yellow Brewer and inside the little pack of guys surfing with us, which is taking a chance because if he didn't catch the wave he risked being caught by a set. But he caught it. It was inside and real fat and doubling up. I had caught a wave on the Tokoro and was paddling back out and I came over a hump and saw him making these big, huge, open ocean paddle strokes with his head down. As he started to get sucked up the face of the wave I started yelling, "c-mon Adam, get it Adam!" but he couldn't hear me cause he was real far away. He kept paddling like that until he was right in the lip of this solid eight footer and I didn't think he was going to get it, but it doubled up and pitched and as it it did he popped up into this big wave ninja stance and just stuck the hell out of the drop. As he loosened up a bit and started his bottom turn I was pretty proud of him. It was a really sick wave.

I got obliterated on one. It was a solid one, not a set, but a double up like Adams. I was on the Tokoro and behind this big bowl section and the thing started bottoming out real hard. As I was trying to make up my mind wether to pull in or low line it just outside the lip line the lip connected with me right around my knees and flicked me off my board like you would an ant from your forearm. It was very rapid and violent. I kind of skipped for a second and I remember hoping that my board wouldn't hit me then I was underwater and cart-wheeling pretty hard. Then I kind of stopped and I was deep. I knew this was the worst wipeout I have ever had and I tried to relax and not be scared. I went to my leash cause in all that foam and with so little air it's tough to swim up. I got up and made sure to get a real breath before I checked for another wave. There wasn't one and I was stoked because I survived a fle-flicker style wipeout on a medium sized big day.

2011-01-23T14:32:00.000-08:00

Hello it's me again. It's a little bit later on, still sunday, and I have some ideas. I'm reading now, I just dropped Adam off at work. I should be doing some work too but have decided to "just go with the flow," instead because I'm reading this book that suggests the best way to live life is basically to just go with the flow... (Its actually a bit more involved than that, and very enjoyable to read and I highly recommend it.) Anyway, the flow has taken me back to this book about the secrets of the universe, given to me by Christie (may be spelled wrong) a good friend, and girl-friend of none other than the mysterious and magical Sandy Hoy. (Sandy paints pictures of cowboys in the nude.)

In any case I read a lot, for a lot of reasons, and well, this reading always sparks lots of action in my head. And I'm not sure here, but I think some of the action, motion, ideaness that goes on in my head might be interesting to some of you peeps, so I'm going to write it down. Also writing will help me to organize and make sense of this thinkstuff and to nail some of it down a bit, because quite frankly it usually blows away like sea spray on a windy day.

Ok so heres some of the stuff moving around in my mind today.

Idea One: Write a cool story.

-The last book I read was Deerslayer,

The story of american frontiersman/hunter, Natty Bumpo's first warpath with his native American friend Chingachgook, who happens to be one of the last of his people, the Mohicans. This book is a classic masterpiece and one of the most moving books I have read in a while.

Deer Slayer author, James Fenimore Cooper

Deerslayer was an amazing world to be in for a while, though it depicted a very hard reality, which is fine and good to be around on occasion because life is damn hard for most people and one of the things I'm trying to do with my life these days is be more aware of that fact, but I have to admit that sometimes I crave an easier, more fun reality. I guess thats one of the things I get from reading--a very intense, vivid, emotionally attached sense of whatever reality I want to pick up. Wether or not this is a positive aspect of reading I will not go into now, but I wanted to make this point because lately I'm finding that however awesome the writing I have been reading is, there is always some little aspect of it that lets me down. So, in leu of this realization I have decided to write the perfect story, or I guess the story that I personally am craving the most to read at this moment.

I say 'at this moment,' because there are times when I crave tragedy, and there are times when I crave a love story, and there are times when I crave a tale of survival, and there are times when I want my mind agitated by mystery and knowledge, and wisdom, but as of late I just want a simple, wholesome, happy, adventure. And, of course the word adventure alone entails most of those things I just mentioned, but you know what I mean--I want to go on a good trip. But you know what, just writing that makes me think, makes me feel a little nervous about this trip, this adventure, because I know that, (well I'm sure it will be flawed in many ways), but it will have the one main flaw all stories have, the flaw that unsettles me the most... the end.

The worst thing about stumbling across a good book is knowing that eventually it will end and that you will have to find another. Shit! Ok so I have an idea. I'm going to write the perfect adventure story, and it's never going to end. How? you say... I'm going to write a column, or a damn blog, or continuation or whatever you want to call it of this story everyday, or na, maybe every week, or I dunno I guess whenever I feel like it. I will call this never ending story, "Never Ending Story," and it's going to have all the coolest stuff, like warriors and horses and wolves and giant turtles and... Haha, na, yeah I guess I'm just going to try to write the stuff thats in my brain, doing just that should make it unique enough, because I'm my own snowflake just like the rest of you. Deal with it. I promise I'll start soon. And keep your eyes open cause you don't want to miss this thing, its going to be even better than "Never Ending Story," because it's really never going to end. It might even be better than The Goonies, "Don't laugh, you know you love the goonies! Ok, enough computer, the day's getting away. Bye.

Oh, wait! I forgot I have one other idea I want to get down:

Idea two:

Buzz Blog.

(explanation of this idea comes at a later date)

Sorry!

2011-01-17T12:10:00.000-08:00

we've been pretty busy on the rock lately and have been seriously neglectin the blog, but i got some photos of what we've been doin to make up for it. Between Eric and Caitlyn comin to town, hiking mountains, and sessions at small Pipe and Waimea, we snapped these photos.
Mahalo,
a.h.

Small pipe, not the day we surfed it but similar size.

"We go!" Bri leadin the way up the Kuli'ou'ou ridge

mountain men and one mountain woman

me demonstrating the barefoot technique

view from da top

bri gettin ready for the paddle out at waimea on a 9'2" brewer gun

Bri fading

Classic Hawaii

mission success! we both got a few waves and got a feel for the reef

after our Waimea session we went down to pipe and watched second reef bombs come through with a few beers till sunset. A hui ho!

Christmas at Pupukea

2010-12-30T14:32:00.000-08:00

Here are a few photos of a surf session i shared with Bri, Seth, and little Mikey. Mahalo to Tammy for taking the photos
It wasn't huge but it was still pretty darn challenging and fun! sorta like big blue obx
Aloha, A hui ho!
A.H.

Santas Throwing Shakas

2010-12-24T20:42:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas Friends!

Well I gotta say this is the weirdest christmas I can remember. With the lack of seasonal change out here in Hawaii, it's hard to get the same kind of holiday vibe I remember from home. Some people have up some funny kind of strangeo christmas lights with santas throwing shakas and reindeer pulling santas on surfboards, but these don't really get my spirits up, they just make things weirder. Went out with Adam, Sandy, and his girl Christy for a few drinks last night down in Wak-kiki, there was a man dressed as a woman, hells angel bikers, old crack head troglodyte ladies with little kid, little bear bags, and a sweet, yet strange Ozzy cover band composed of four japanese kids dressed in black. The best part about the band was the set list, the band was called "masters of Oz," but they played everything from "Brown eyed girl," to "Freebird," (at Adams partly drunken request I might add.) Anyway we had a good time, and I have an image blazed into my mind from the night that I just can't let go of.

As we walked home from the bar I looked up at one of the many ridiculous sky scraping apartment buildings and each unit had strung up some Xmas lights in their own unique way. This made me feel good in a way, like those people up there in all those little boxes are real. Because sometimes I feel like they might just be bunch of clones, or androids.

Anyway, yeah been thinking of home a lot. Miss family, miss friends. Looks like there's been some fun waves back there lately, check out this sick pic of my buddy Colin shredding somewhere up in north Jersey, Looks cold, but a little fire makes cold ok right. Colin Rips.

And check this one out from Das Gimp. Looks like 10th st's been firing up some cold wedges. OOOOOOhhh, (sorry for that little sound effect I'm listening to Daft Punk too much.

Anyway Gimper says it was sick out there, he shredded with the one and only Scotty O, "surfed for three hours," he said. Sounds nice.

So here it is. Xmas- eve that is, hoping to dawn patrol six to eight foot sunset in the morning, that will be our Xmas presents, big heavy rights. Nice. Also a sweet box of cookies sent from mom and dad, and a cool turkey and fruit pies and some dry goods sent from sis. Oh and some cool T-shirts, all of which I am going to take pictures and put up when I get home tomorrow night. Good night all, and to all a merry christmas.!

Best damn Pepsi i ever drank.

2010-12-17T19:50:00.000-08:00

I don't usually write words on here, and probably for good reason... i don really think that he things i do are all that interesting and i'm not as funny as bri, but i thought id share with y'all somethin that happened to me today.

I've never been a Pepsi kinda guy, always preferred coke. not really sure why exactly but maybe it's something to do with the polar bear commercials around christmas time... though today may have changed that for me. anyway it's not really important

life in Hawaii is actually pretty damn tough, i do love it very much but, its been getting hard on me. I found out today that my loans for school arent really gonna go through like i planned. i may not be able to take classes next semester and i owe about four grand out of my pocket that i cant find a lender to cover. its actually almost comical that i am one of the best students in most of my classes, attending college is all i really want to do right now and yet i cant afford it, cant even get a loan. On top of this is the ever present fact that at the beginning of each month i have 800 dollars in rent to take care of, so i have two jobs along with full time schooling to take care of, which even then barely covers the rent, let alone gas at 3.50 a gallon and food. Im walking home from the news about my loans, im about as stressed as i can be, no money, no car, no girl to hug, rents comin up soon, how am i gonna get my degree, thinking about having to move back home with my tail between my legs and just subjugate myself to a life of working construction... its a bout an hour walk back up the hill to my apartment, no wind, sun glaring on the blacktop makes it feel like 100 degrees out, and the walk is straight up a verticle road... sweating my ass off. I'm just really feeling beat down, just trying to figure out how to get my life together. I come around a bend and to big mokes(fat hawaiian dudes) are taking a break from some mason work. as i walk past them one of them looks at me straight i the eye, " Hey brah! i give you one soda, i know you tired brah and this gonna make you feel mo bettah and give you energy to get up da hill." I'm not sure why but i kinda just looked at him, shocked. he put the Pepsi in my hand, it was ice cold. he smiled and so did i as i said thank you. i could have had a three hour walk after that and would still be in a good mood. I'm saving the can and im just gonna put myself back to work, it's gonna work out, and when i get a little money im gonna buy someone a pepsi.

Aloha! A Hui Ho!
A.H.

Pipe Masters

2010-12-17T13:27:00.000-08:00

Well, while Adam was struggling through his day yesterday I was having a good time up in the country. I left early enough to catch Slaters heat against Ace Buckaan (I don't know how to spell that and I don't feel like looking it up, although in the time it's taking to explain that I could have easily looked it up.) Anyway the heat was sick, I guess I was standing next to Ace's coach, or friend or whatever, he seemed like an industry kook to me, with all the so-cal mannerisms such as, "sooo good!," and, "ya, ok!" and whatever you know how those guys talk, but anyway when Slater broke his board the guy was like, "money!" and I didn't like that, who wants to win like that anyway, but then Ace broke his board right afterwards and the guy was freaking out running and getting the pieces and feeling very important and I coughed, "mhhoney!" and it was all very exciting and I filmed this clip of Slater switching boards with my phone cause my cameras are all broke.

Anyway, Slater went on to win the heat and Parko got the triple crown title, and then I watched a few more heats including the one when Dane did that huge air like right in front of where I was standing, it was sick and Sethy was in the water shooting with a black helmet on, and I called Miller while Slater and Jeremy were battling and Miller said rockys was good, so after the Slater Jeremy heat, which by the way was one of the craziest heats I'v ever seen, I decided not to stay for the Flores, Peirrow final and went and surfed yards which was a couple feet over-head with no one out and like a skate park. All in all though, I have to say that the best part of my day was the text I got from slug while I was sitting on the beach at pipe about to surf perfect uncrowded waves.

Quite a contrast huh, and look at that Slug, he's so cute, like a little happy snow man. Thanks for the clip Slug.

Some G Love Blues

2010-12-17T11:35:00.000-08:00

Just came across this while waiting for adam to get home from work so we can go body surfing. Garrett's so talented, and he's such a nice guy. Nice.

So Sick

2010-12-17T10:05:00.000-08:00

2010-12-14T09:05:00.000-08:00

Our World Underwater 2009 Video General Category - 1st Place from DivePhotoGuide.com on Vimeo.

This is an amazing little movie, some crazy stuff. Sorry I"m not writing more, things are really weird right now, just trying to live it out.

JH 870-45... I want that!

2010-12-05T10:38:00.000-08:00

Looks like Mr. Jaime Hunter, leader of the infamous Jaime Hunter Gang, is outsourcing his skills for some extra income during these difficult economic times.

Damn I miss Carolina sometimes.

Pirate Jewel Water

2010-11-23T13:59:00.000-08:00

The Pacific, as it meets the shores of the Hawaiian islands, can take on a variety of colors. From the impressive dark almost purple-blue of the outer depths, to the dream-like sapphire of the outer reefs, and then in further where near shore shimmers of emerald and aqua blue contrast sharply against the dark black and red of the volcanic rock-reefs. And while these spaces of color all catch my eye as I look out over the glimmering ocean I have come to know and love, I think it's the sandy spots I love most. For it is in these spots where the real nature of the water-colors can shine and blend and shimmer and glitter into a medium that is quite dreamy, and moving, and desirable as a place for a swim.

So here's a new clip of Adam and I doing just that, unfortunately I can't seem to figure out how to compress the clip for maximum quality, but I think it's good enough to get a feel for what we've been up to.

Enjoy...

In Search of Treasure from Brian Herron on Vimeo.

R.I.P. Andy Irons

2010-11-05T01:16:00.000-07:00

I'm not feeling too right to bring this onto the blog, I mean, I don't know it's not like I ever knew Andy Irons, but I have found myself to be really bummed about his passing. It seems like every one who rides waves feels the same way. The world can be so tragic sometimes, it's hard to learn that aspect of life, it's hard to come to terms with it.

I have to admit I have always secretly been a big fan of A.I.'s-- his style was so unique looking to me, I was instantly addicted to it when I first saw it in the 5'5 19' 1/4 movie. Especially the Waimea shore-break part. From then on out I always kind of quietly observed and became inspired by the genius of his surfing, it's spontaneousness, it's punk rock look, and it's Hawaiian bravado. I'm sad I never got to meet him, or surf with him. I'm sad for his friends. I'm sad for his family.

I'm going surfing tomorrow.

Greene's Dreams Come True

2010-10-31T11:37:00.000-07:00

Well, it looks like Greene's dreams are about to materialize. It seems that out here in Hawaii one truly does have to be careful what they wish for. You see, this past couple of weeks the surf's been pretty small kine up in the country. And Adam and I both have been kinda restless, kinda short, and kinda grumpy with each other and others. We both agreed that we wanted some big days, maybe just to sort of get it out of the way cause we have all these big wave guns lying around our house and they're making us nervous (especially the red 9'8 Brewer), or maybe just cause we are craving the thrill of a big wave. Either way, the forecast for tuesday is going to have us getting up very early, or sleeping in very late.

Andrew Greene

2010-10-30T22:49:00.001-07:00

I've been out of touch. Every one is mad at me. If your mad at me, please call me and leave me a message. I will text you my new number, I have a new number. I just set up my new voice mail. Just been sort of occupied with the moment lately. Sorry. I'll be in touch soon.

Anyway here's a shot of Greene. Greene and I get along well. Greene is big, and I'm kind of the opposite I guess. I guess we sort of have that in common, were opposites. Greene is stoked on life and he like's a good time and to celebrate everything. Thats whats fun about him, he's fun to be around, and he has good jokes, but sometimes he's too big like a big dog that you like a lot but that eats all your cheese burgers and knocks over everything and sleeps on the couch when you want to watch Indiana Jones.

Anyway, Green is in a healing process now. You see Greene's been doing some landscaping. Working for El Cazador (Jaime) and the matador(Taylor). Well anyway, Greene gets tired a lot. He gets tired cause he's real big and needs huge amounts of energy, like enough to run a small city, or to power a small town fair for like three days. Well so what I'm getting at is that Greene falls asleep all over the place, even sometimes on the job, he just can't help it. And well to just get to the point already, Greene fell asleep on the job while he was weed eating in front of Taylor on Ricky (the big mower) and Taylor ran him over and almost cut his leg off.

More Pictures of Green...

Greene Sleeping at lunch (Looks like Jersey Mikes.)

Greene sleeping on the couch (he's so tired.)

Green sleeping in the car on the way from one job to another (Taylor stoked that Greenes asleep cause he likes to nuzzle his head onto Greens shoulder and use it as a pillow, Greene only lets Taylor do this when he's asleep.)

Greene and Taylor asleep in some grass (I hope they haven't cut it yet cause if they did it looks like someone missed that crack weed, I would not tolerate that kind of incompetence.)

Greene slumbering on the couch again (his eye itches probably from some dust.)

Greene and Taylor in the car again (Greene forgave Taylor for running him over with Ricky immediately after it happened.)

Greene asleep on the floor.

Greene sleeping on some paper. (Probably dreaming about getting tubed at ten foot sunset (Greene has been in the barrel at ten foot sunset, so it's quite possible that this is what he's dreaming about.)

Polli.

Full House

2010-10-29T19:00:00.000-07:00

Well, I guess I should say some stuff. Hawaii is sweet, no it's cool, nah, no, it's nice, yeah thats it; Hawaii is nice. And it's nice because right now we have a full house, Gabi, Sandy, and Christy, and of course Adam and I, were like a family. Any way it's kind of like, well just watch this short video and you will understand how things work around here...

So I cannot figure out how to embed this thing so if you want you can click on the link and see a funny video... http://sendables.jibjab.com/view/3xnyKPw2qbMnunD0

more words soon

five sailing pictures

2010-10-26T20:54:00.000-07:00

transitions

2010-10-18T14:47:00.001-07:00

still transitioning into life on the rock

things are quite weird right now, only been a few moments of peace, not much surf, town is a hard place to break down--I need a fat slippery square piece of foam to slide on, to make these waves more interesting, when the transitions complete perhaps I will build one.

Adam points at a very large urchin in a cave at sharks cove.

2010-10-11T13:38:00.001-07:00

2010-10-07T00:49:00.001-07:00

Don't Panic from Brian Herron on Vimeo.

2010-10-05T10:28:00.000-07:00

Sept. 27, Sunset beach HI

2010-09-28T00:36:00.000-07:00

Coffee With Dad

2010-09-27T04:22:00.000-07:00

Pretty much all my life my old mans been playin the guitar. He's got about 20 of 'em and they're all over the house, I guess so if he feels like throwing something down he can just grab one and go. Most times I'll be chillin reading or watching some movies or what not and here comes my Dad wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts and an acoustic guitar strapped to his neck saying, "hey Brian listen to this."

Yesterday I caught a clip of his wandering jamming over a hot cupa and a fresh sunday times...

King Stanley from Brian Herron on Vimeo.

Da New Cave

2010-09-26T04:50:00.000-07:00

Cavebrother has done it, he's found our new cave. Located on the top of a volcanic ridge, apparently the cave is nice, free of bats and bears, and has an abundance good rocks around it which could be used to smash things.

Please enjoy a virtual tour of das cave presented to us here by the one and only Adam Ayers, who thinks he is funny when quite obviously he is not...

(cavebrother stands in the main entrance of our new home)

This photo demonstrates that there actually was a time when Adam was literally my "little" brother, and although that time seems to have come and gone (maybe not I think I'm just going to get my growth spurt a little late) this does not mean I will not be the one in charge of things around the house, for I am older and therefore wiser, also I am the natural alpha male mainly because of my sheer strength and power.

In any case I'm stoked, as the Herron brothers will be united again, and you can expect big things from us this winter as we are already planning many adventures and expeditions to some of the most beautiful, and most dangerous places on Oahu as well as new board designs including winged alaia's, rocket tow boards (for doing airs at phantoms), and body surfing expeditions all along the north shore. Banzai!

As you can see from this little text video I received from das Cavebrother yesterday titled, "Aloha From Pipe" he's already been making moves in da waves...

Parting shot: The virtual tour guide, Adam Ayers and his beautiful lady Katie Brown glowing at tongs.

Catching eels

2010-09-24T02:30:00.000-07:00

Been a heck of a transition from life-guarding to painting, went from having beautiful women offer me gifts of gold and jewels, to straight--dirtbag. Yesterday someone told me I look like I catch eels for a living.

Lying Down in the Tube

2010-09-22T16:33:00.000-07:00

The hunt for Eye Gore swell went well, it was a fast paced trip to the south, packed with good friends, good close out tubes, and good southern food, plus a bonus magical mase session that I will never forget. All in all, me and the old man scored. Expect a short reel soon, but for now check out this sick boogie woogie vid I discovered on the inter net webbing-- boogers always catch a lot of slack for riding waves the way they do, but man if you really sit back and look at it for a second, boogie riding is rad!--how much fun does it look to just fly through tubes lying down like super man, it's really just body surfing with a little help. Here's to boogers!

Fit Full Rest

2010-09-16T02:31:00.000-07:00

I'm not sleeping well. The transition from one life-style to another is always demanding on my brains and gray matter. Dreams of strange faces--bulging eye balls and turned down lips--wake me up every hour, on the hour. Worries about money, jobs, family, and friends have me sweating at two in the morning, kicking my feet, and twisting till I fall back into that strange place we all go in the night.

Lately all I've wanted to do is find surf. My brains need a shower.

Check em photos of Das Gimp absolutely charging Avalon on da Earl swell.

Gimp charging--Cave watching--screaming, "noooo, don't pull in!"

Gimp pulls in to an Avalon sand slab.

Das Gimp Rips.

We ended up scoring pretty good with Earl in-spite of missing some big surf down south, and aside from picking up a staffy looking infection in my leg in Cape May, I felt great satisfaction having hunted Earl with a good friend--feasting on the marrow of his barrel bones.

Now it's time to put the safari cap back on, I'm heading south with the old man to rendezvous with some Carolina boys to hunt for Igor, an overgrown Atlantic cyclops pronounced, --eye-gore-- by Doug Deegan. Check back for updates and happy hunting to all.

Summer?

2010-09-14T04:46:00.000-07:00

Summer is over. Where did it go? It left without saying goodbye, no? In any case the summer was a good one, a new one, for me. A summer spent outside the comfort zone of my usual doings--my usual wanderings--a summer spent in the sun, reading the Atlantic like a book and people-watching a people from another time and another place.

And I regret not meeting those people, not knowing those who came to graze in the little summer waves with their suspenders, cigars, cigarettes, aqua socks, sun-blocks, beach balls, and boogie woogie boards. How peculiar these people became to me as I watched them day after hot summer day, occasionally jumping down and running out into the water to pull one of their little ones out of a rip by the scruff of their neck, all the while their parents, back-beach, obliviously smoked cigarettes and ate ham sandwiches--ham sandwiches--baking themselves like chocolate chip cookies these people approached the water with a style so bizarre to me that I became fascinated with it.

I was amazed, and eventually envious at how much joy they could find in the smallest pulse of a wave as they would hop on with their boogie woogie board stretched way out in front of them always dragging their bodies like anchors end up on the sand in front of the stand like a shiny seals smiling and laughing and using archaic expressions like, "yahoo," or ,"by golly that was a hoot!" They had so much fun, these people from a different land, almost as if they were from a different time, from a time when people would wear britches in the water and use cameras that popped and shot smoke to make photos.

But now its over, what an experience, I feel like I've learned a lot, but what I value most from this life-guarding experience is the sense of having accomplished something I set out to do, the challenge I did not back away from, and the friends I made along the way. I know that sounds sentimental and perhaps a little fluffy, but I met some really cool people up there on that stand.

Ok so now I'm off too HI, but not before one last east coast adventure, I have a meeting this friday somewhere south of here with a new client named Igor... Stay tuned for an Igor hunting road trip video. After that It's off to Oahu where Cavebrother is holding it down, studying hard, surfing when he can, and occasionally spending some time with his newest passion, the guitar.

Check em one new movie, Adam on da guitar while I catch a wave at leftovers last spring...

Enjoy

HI from Brian Herron on Vimeo.

A meeting of the souls.

2010-08-22T18:37:00.001-07:00

Adam and Dad at sharks cove. The fishes represent some deeper meaning I can't quite put into words at this time, thank you.

It's that time of the year--the basin is finally looking good--lets cross our fingers everyone.

2010-08-17T04:55:00.000-07:00

photos in nc by sethy

BUZZ

2010-08-16T04:41:00.000-07:00

2010-08-15T15:25:00.000-07:00

Saw this kid on the 3slobs blog--KoreyDane--check em, it's very good, sort of fresh in a way, and young, and new, and raw, and hopeful, and simple, and just an amazing combination of human voices. And I think that when a girl sings everything becomes good, kind of like when you see a sunrise, for a little while you have enough vision to realize that everything really is good. It really is!

Korey Dane "Mother Father" from Dana Morris on Vimeo.

2010-08-13T18:42:00.001-07:00

Dropped Adam off at the air-port. He flew on over to the island. To Oahu. I listened to this on the way home. The sun came up. Haven't been on my own in a while. The summer is a fast moving locomotive. Bright, and blurry, and trying to remember what happened a week ago is like staring into the sun. Where am I going. Whats going on. Been thinking a lot again. I guess maybe a little too much. Thinking about big stuff--little stuff. Thinking about the Atlantic ocean a lot. It's a moody piece of water ya know. Been thinking about the deep grey green places out there where people don't really go much. Thinking I'd like to go there sometime, to those places away from all the constant changes and all the movements life makes--go and swim there for a while, or just float in the colors.

Stormy sky tonight. I feel kinda good.

2010-07-30T05:50:00.001-07:00

CHROMAGNUM MAN from Brian Herron on Vimeo.

PADDLE BOARD RACE

2010-06-24T16:17:00.000-07:00

Challenging a bunch of guys tomorrow, including my brother, in a paddle--board--race. Paddle--board--race... sounds kind of cool yeah, I mean if you say it slow like, it has nice sound to it, three things combined into one, it's going to be fun. I feel like I could do well, but I'm not really feeling very well, so I guess it will be interesting. Either way it's a win win cause if cave brother beats me thats good, but I doubt thats going to happen. Wish I didn't, but I've got something he dosen't... "old man strength." (wow, this would be a good name for a surf clip about old guys, ...don't steal it... scott.)

Anyway sorry to all the people I need to call, I will call soon, just been kind of a tough week, no excuse though, thanks for all your support and for putting up with me as a shitty friend.

aloha

June 4--2010--New Jersey--

2010-06-04T11:08:00.000-07:00

Well, here I am, back in beautiful New Jersey. Oops, let me correct myself, beautiful (southern) New Jersey, not to be confused with that "place" up north where the Rafters live. (Just kidding it's pretty up there too) But man, beautiful isn't even good enough to describe the Cape in late spring/early summer.

Having a down day today, as tomorrow is fixing to be a real challenge...

Down day--you know, like a summer day when your a kid-- fresh out of school. The kind of day when you can just take a walk around the block and listen to the birds. Flashes of memories have been snapping and crackling in my head all day; childhood adventures--seeking turtles, swimming in secret wooded ponds, climbing trees, or just simply sitting and watching ants crawl across a sidewalk, or listening to the quiet sound dust makes as it sparkles across a random ray of sunlight in an empty house.

The word of my day is silence. Quietness--land--big land like that here in America seems to carry a certain amount of silence around with it in a way I didn't seem to notice in Hawaii. Don't get me wrong, there's plenty of quiet places in Hawaii, even on Oahu, but those places seem to carry so much rich spiritual history, so much "mana," that it can be hard to tap into for an outsider. Even the quietest mountaintops seem to rage with some intense underlying passion, a passion I have the utmost respect and awe for, but may never fully be a part of. But here, though, are my roots. And as I slowly meandered my way down to the big Delaware bay today by bicycle, I felt a deep connection to those roots, to the very oaks and pines, to the cedars, holly's, and dogwoods, and to the spirits of the creatures alive and wild and crazy in the woods surrounding me.

I wandered to the bay today--nothing else to do by choice-- purposely letting my mind drift off into those old woods, and as I did I began to see a people, a line of humans with dark skin and bright warm smiles, with long dark hair covered by feathers and beads, and with the skins of wild animals draped across their chests. On both sides of me I saw these people, these Natives, these Americans, these Indians... and as they smiled at me I realized that this place has "mana" too, that it has always been here, and that my roots are theirs. Perhaps they do not grow in a perfect configuration, perhaps at first they may have even clashed a bit, but now, as decided by time and the hands of our mother nature, the roots have grown strong and powerful and are filled with the flavor of a place that is no more.

The road to the Bay from my parents home is a long and quiet wooded lane, about three miles long, with almost no homes on it. It is a road that leads directly into the Delaware, in-fact, the only warning you get to keep you from driving straight out into the chocolate brown water of the bay is the powder white beach of sand that shines brightly across the shore day or night. I rode a bicycle to this shore--no shoes, no shirt, letting the sun and the earthy air surround and fill my body.

At the beach I took a walk, I smelled the rotting corpses of the horse-shoe crabs who have chosen to die here for some ancient reason, and listened to the laugh of the gulls who like most other creatures are both consciously indifferent, yet subconsciously, or even spiritually aware, and respectfully in rhythm with the death of not only these crabs, but of all the creatures either losing or gaining their lives each day on the beach.

As I walked along the beach I scanned the sand for treasure, something I've always been fascinated with since I was a boy--first on this beach at the age of six, over twenty years ago. And treasure I found, both in a variety of sea glass found in the sand, and in a variety memories I raked from the big beach in my mind.

Treasure...

I remembered walking this road in the winter, years ago with Gimper and Slugger, not much older than twelve, up to our knees in snow, and out for adventure. We found a dead deer on the side of the road, a fawn. She was hit by a car I think, and laid in the snow, as she now lay in my mind, asleep forever.

I remember when my brother crashed our fathers corvette, years later, but only a few yards from where we found the deer. I guess being from New Jersey he wanted to do something to show how proud he was of that, so he took the corvette with his friend Eric, popped in a Bon Jovi cassette tape, flipped to the track, "living on a prayer," got the car up to about sixty miles an hour and spun it into the woods--right between two old oak trees-- "living on a prayer," I guess.

And I also came across more recent memories, memories of books I read this winter...
One book specifically came to mind that seemed to blend perfectly into the place I found myself today. It has quickly become a favorite, not only for the archaic account of a place and a people I have always been fascinated with, but for the passion it conveys of those people, for their wisdom of the land, and the water, and the love that binds them to those things I also love.

So I guess I will end with a block quote from that book... (please forgive the intensity of the quote, I just loved how the author got my heart racing during this scene, sort of towards the beginning of the book, unreal old school romantic imagery)...

"When Uncas had brained his first antagonist, he turned, like a hungry lion, to seek another. The fifth and only Huron disengaged at the first onset, had paused a moment, and then seeing that all around him were employed in the deadly strife, he had sought, with hellish vengeance, to complete the baffled work of revenge. Raising a shout of triumph, he had sprung towards the defenseless Cora, sending his keen axe, as the dreadful precursor of his approach. The tomahawk grazed her shoulder, and cutting the withes which bound her to the tree, left the maiden at liberty to fly. She eluded the grasp of the savage, and reckless of her own safety, threw herself on the bosom of Alice, striving, with convulsed and ill-directed fingers, to tear asunder the twigs which confined the person of her sister. Any other than a monster would have relented at such an act of generous devotion to the best and purest affection; but the breast of the Huron was a stranger to any sympathy. Seizing Cora by the rich tresses which fell in confusion about her form, he tore her from her frantic hold, and bowed her down with brutal violence to her knees. The savage drew the flowing curls through his hand, and raising them on high with an outstretched arm, he passed the knife around the moulded head of his victim, with a taunting and exulting laugh. But he purchased this moment of fierce gratification with the loss of the fatal opportunity. It was just then the sight caught the eye of Uncas. Bounding from his footsteps, he appeared for an instant darting through the air, and descending in a ball he fell on the chest of his enemy, driving him many yards from the spot, headlong and prostrate. The violence of the exertion cast the young Mohican at his side. They arose together, fought, and bled, each in his turn. But the conflict was soon decided; the tomahawk of Heyward, and the rifle of Hawk-eye, descended on the skull of the Huron, at the same moment that the knife of Uncas reached his heart."

Glaze...

2010-06-03T17:58:00.001-07:00

Leaving in 2 hours

2010-06-01T22:42:00.001-07:00

aloha

PADDLING

2010-05-29T16:34:00.000-07:00

Just got back from a killer paddling session with my boss and his friends down at sand island and I have to say--I'm really bummed. Now to the list of things I love to do--of my surfing, fishing, diving, swimming, biking, hiking, waterfall seeking and jumping, ka--ra--tae, crabbing, and cooking, and other stuff too, I must add a new passion. Paddling. How am I going to find the time to do all this rad stuff! Luckily I live in Hawaii now, where it's actually kind of possible.

There's nothing like paddling in a six man canoe--when you get up with a good crew of guys, and or girls, and get out there and just put your heads down and find a rhythm. The boat just glides so smooth--I become so focused on my technique, on making good, short, powerful strokes, on switching fast and accurately, on getting in sync with those in front of me, or behind me depending on what seat I have--eventually sometimes just for brief moments, sometimes for longer, the boat and crew becomes one, and the glide gets big and bright and in rhythm with something very big, a pace that never stops... It's a good feeling to have.

Now I'm home and checking out some paddling videos online--this one's pretty fun--just a bunch of haole guys not taking themselves too seriously, but who have all probably been paddling for years. Unreal steersman. Sorry that it's kind of a Patagonia add... it's still a cool video. Check em...

Ka Malolo (the flying fish) from Guy Martin on Vimeo.

www.prafter.com

2010-05-28T12:26:00.000-07:00

It has come to our attention that our constituents over at prafter.com have been catching some heat for not posting dakine media found here in the cave.

And I just want to be the first to say that I do not condone this bantering of the scientists website, that I have quite a few friends whom are scientists and I know how busy they can be, what with all the different kine chloroplast there are in the world, not to mention various lichen sub-cultures. Plus petri dish, mitochondria (powerhouse), science, and math, so as you can see with all of these things scientists can be very busy and not have lots of time to spend on silly blog posts.

Also I would like to mention that Pat Rafter became a best friend of mine when I was like 12 or something, a hero at like 15, and then a mentor at like 20, and now we like to talk about surfing a lot accept when he occasionally has to call me for advice about some science he's working on, like when he called me recently to ask why hydrogen methane gas pockets at the bottom of the sea have released numerous bubbles which have not risen to the surface for some mysterious reason. The reason, of course, I told him "is because there is a huge community of underwater people who live at the bottom of the sea specifically around these gas pockets, and they have devised a way to harness the co2 double helix oxygen molecules contained within the bubbles those pockets release--therefore, the sea peoples have obviously focused the bubbles into one large dome like bubble which they all live in and grow their seaweed plants and ride their eel rail transportation system and go and have sea babies and dance the funky amenity all the time."

In any case... what a world he sees through those eyes that Rafter-- And how I love to tap into that vision from time to time, just call him up and say some words and the guy will communicate some really unique shit back to you. Better than my stuff, cause it's usually real!

What can I say Rafter is weird, and no matter how much Brookie bear tries to straighten him out and dress him like a model and give him expensive handbags to carry around he will always have that uncommonly boisterous and brilliant Rafter mind not to mention that untamed mad scientist hair. Thats why we all love him so much. So don't mess with his web page blog thing. (gimp)

I like bodysurfing.

2010-05-25T23:55:00.001-07:00

Went to Makapu'u with Ed Glazier today. Got some nice slabby little tubes bodysurfing. Feel good now.

(Cunningham is the man, hows that bottom turn at 50 seconds!)

Unreal

2010-05-25T10:08:00.000-07:00

New Wings!

2010-05-24T13:07:00.001-07:00

just picked this up today, saw it out of the corner of my eye while driving, pulled a yew! turn and made the deal. on further inspection i found it to be a 7'2" sunset surfboards shaped by sid madden. with little research i learned that sydney manning was a shaper from the 60's and seventies who learned the craft from dick brewer.... ooooooo! i even have a picture of him charging second reef pipe backhand, but with a name like sunset written on it, it may jus be fate for this winter.... we shall see.......

c.b.

Diving Carolina

2010-05-22T11:08:00.000-07:00

Photos by Logan

Fellow cave dweller Jaime Hunter sent me a text message yesterday that inspired me to put up a few photo's from dive trips last summer. How I miss diving Carolina...

Message received via text:

May 21, 4:24 pm--from Pig--

"Shot a 24 inch blue somewhere around four to five pounds,

wrightsville jetty, 20 foot vis!

So many fish right now, giant schools of sheep on jetty too!"

Right on Pig, try leave some fish for me, I'm hoping to venture down that way some time this summer!

And Mine

2010-05-21T09:30:00.000-07:00

my new hero

2010-05-21T09:15:00.001-07:00

Some Swell Rides With "El Matador"

2010-05-17T00:36:00.000-07:00

Some Swell Rides from Brian Herron on Vimeo.

Here we find Taylor Moore aka "The Matador," Joe-C, and Cave on a late winter C-street strike mission. As you might expect the air temp was 33f, and the water was in the mid to low 40's.

With conditions like these I like to try to play some fast music in the car in hopes of loosening up the dance muscles for frigid surf riding, but no matter how jive things are in the car, once your in the water a whole different kine music creeps into your head. On this day, Joe had already surfed in the morning so he graciously opted for the camera while Taylor and I laid down some cold water lines.

This was perhaps my last surfing session in Wrightsville.

It must be noted here that T. Moore is one of the best surfers in Wilmington, if not the whole of NC, in not the whole of the world... The guy is versatile, powerful, and stylish. He can ride big waves and small waves. Any board. And there is no one more hard-core--almost all of my six hour surf sessions have been with Taylor, he just loves the water for what it is. Also, I should mention that Taylor is not known as "El Matador" by anyone in particular, but I've always kind of thought of his surf style much like that of the Spanish Matador... as he ever so gracefully glides along the swells of the sea, turning powerfully and at times radically to ultimately position himself within their most dangerous and most beautiful heart places.

2010-05-16T22:19:00.000-07:00

Lau Lau

2010-05-16T13:33:00.000-07:00

2010-05-15T16:44:00.001-07:00

For Adam

2010-05-14T01:03:00.000-07:00

Be strong. Use your muscles. Carry it. Don't drop it. Just carry it.

Build a boat. (part 2, cave brother)

2010-05-13T08:13:00.000-07:00

Build a boat.

2010-05-11T22:12:00.000-07:00

2010-05-10T22:51:00.000-07:00

That red vest look familiar?

ORCA

2010-05-10T22:41:00.000-07:00

CAVE MOM

2010-05-09T03:39:00.000-07:00

Cave Mum with tear drop van.

Cave sister is a mom too.

Cave Mum with a cat.

Cave mum with her Dad. Looks like she was in trouble.

My Mum works on a island. Stone Harbor. When I was very young, I used to have to go to work with her and hang out. One day I got bored. "Mom, I'm bored," I said. "Well, there's not much I can do for you Brian," she answered. And then she said--and I will never forget this--"why don't you walk down to the beach and watch the surfers."

So I did, I walked straight down 98th street and watched people ride waves. This was before I knew what that was, a time when I looked at the ocean and saw a big place, a big water, not just a shore line with peeling lefts and rights or none at all. So I watched the surfers and something happened, I still remember this, this feeling I felt, soon I found myself in a surf shop buying huge bubble gum stickers and bars of sex wax. I can still remember the smell of wax when I was young, it was a magic smell, it awakened my mind to something I knew nothing about, but craved intensely. Then I got serious about boogie boarding. Then I met the Slug. Then we started surfing. Then I met the Gimp. Then we surfed more. One day, we got slope. I still remember Slug taking off on the top of a curling wave, not just riding the white-wash, and freaking out screaming, learning about "stoke." We got better, we met everyone we know and care dearly about, we travelled, we grew up, some of us went away, some of us stayed, some of us have passed on to another place, and still we surfed, when ever we could, when ever we can, we surf, we, ride, swell. Thanks Mom. I owe everything I have to you. You are rad.

INSPIRATION FOR SURF PIPE ON SUNDAY

2010-05-04T17:46:00.001-07:00

2010-04-30T01:02:00.000-07:00

FIVE YEAR PLAN

2010-04-29T22:15:00.001-07:00

I have a dream...

I have... vision--an idea that is real for once, not just some half ass romantic daydream about being a big wave surfer, or having a career fighting bad guys, or sailing boats, not just some fantasy... It's real, concrete, well not yet, but for once it's a goal that is attainable, something to chase and work for, something to live for.

"All you have to do is find something to believe in and nothing can touch you."

Is it cheesy to quote Machado? Maybe, but that line from Shelter has always stuck with me, because I've never really believed in anything, well now I do.

You might be thinking, "what the hell is he talking about now, he wants to be a hand gliding champion, or some kind of street performing break dancer," and don't get me wrong those kinds of things are very attractive to me, but I'm now interested in being a real live teacher! Thats right folks--cave teacher--you heard it here first.

Why? Because I love working with kids of all ages and abilities, why? because I'm a kid--period. And I'm not afraid to embrace that, you know that, we all do, I don't need to act like some "grown up," in fact I don't want too, I mean, I want the responsibility of a centered person, I want the balance, the honor, the diligence, the discipline that we normally associate with "adults," but with those things we also associate certain sacrifices that I will never make. I will never act my age--always younger. I will never be afraid to dance, or act on free feeling--watch me at a wedding. I will never cease to imagine--pirate gold, flying fish, and the speed of light... what... I will never stop dreaming into the world, never stop seeing the world through the eyes of a child. I will seek adventure, I will be afraid, and then... then I will be brave.

And so I think I will be able to connect with young people well, and teach them "grown up," lessons, but without the anger, or the blank, bleak, boring mindset I associate with those who have become unfortunate enough to lose touch with their inner child, or true self.

And I'm on my way...

I'm not really a real teacher yet, but, I'm kind of one, anyway, I work with kids at a really cool elementary school. These things were in my mailbox in the office today...

Pretty cool right...

And here's a little video I made with my nephew over christmas, (a real live kid) just days before I left for Hawaii... He's a good kid, very smart, very brave, very curious, and very kind... all the things a person should be at any age. His name is Adan, pronounced, Adaaan... Adan likes traines, specifically Thomas, and over christmas he was obsessed with this "accidents can happen," song, so we made a movie of our own... check em!... look out for guest appearances, from cave grandpa, and cave grandma, "Gigi," also cave brother, cave brother in law "Carlos," cave sis, and the newest cave person, cave niece--"Bella!"

P.S. I still want to ride big waves...

2010-04-29T08:10:00.000-07:00

Patsy's Senior Picture

2010-04-27T09:38:00.000-07:00

She pretty...

NEW INSEA TV EPISODE...

2010-04-25T10:20:00.000-07:00

CLICK HERE TO SEE MEN UNDER WATER

So Sick... and kind of trippy yeah? I feel bad cause I told Ryan I would give him a shark for cutting up the hobie vid, and still haven't, but I'm planning on going for a dive after this swell so hang tight Ryan I'm going to find you something nice. Of course he says he "prefers tiger."

Really though, this makes me want to dive sooo bad, and it makes me miss carolina... the closest I've come to diving as of late is surfing with my Omer suit on...

Which I just realized, was given to me by Ryan a few years ago and I have never gotten square with him yet, Ryan, sorry buddy, I'm going to send you a shark and a shell now too.

In any case keep up the good work Captain, wish I could come back for a day and dive with yall and then drink some man beers and eat some oysters and have a fire and grow a mustache and then go out to Neptune's and then wake up on the beach somewhere and see that the waves are good and go and steal a board from Glaze and paddle out and see the boys going by on a boat and flag em down and end up at Mase shredding with the boys and then stick a couple of flounders afterwards and then go home and clean em up, then in an hour fry em up and have all the crew come over and drink some more man beers, and have a fire and then go out to Neppies...

"It's like a finger pointing at the moon, if you concentrate on the finger, you miss all the heavenly glory."

--Bruce Lee

Tomfoolery with Colin Herlihy

2010-04-17T21:00:00.000-07:00

Just watched some sick surfing on surfline. Couldn't help but smile--check out the Honolua Bay vid, some big boys gettin shacked and lovin it--it made me feel like surfing again, and that feels good.

Heading up north tomorrow, maybe for some windy Lani's, or sunset point, or maybe I can just find some little nook wave, well see, either way it's not going to be the same up there now that Colin's gone over to California. I was pretty lucky to have him coach me into the vibe up there on the north shore this spring--I learned a lot from him--including everything from how to properly get pounded at sunset, to how to catch a football while riding a wave on a stand-up boogie, not to mention how to negotiate his old mans, "shenanigans." In any case, in-spite of all the tomfoolery those guys are good people--real good, almost like southern people, but from the north like me. Here's to a rad spring...

Check this little Colin clip--i've got lots of em, so keep your eyes peeled--his surfing is pretty dynamic--big boards, small, fins, no, foam, wood, whatever, the kid can pretty much ride anything, and rip, not to mention charge like a freaking humpback during mating season, check...

quality's kind of shot, cause I had to upload the file straight to da blog, i promise it'll get better in the future.

And here's a couple of shots of the Irishman in da tube--backdoor.

2010-04-17T09:57:00.001-07:00

skydividing from Brian Herron on Vimeo.

I got a job!

2010-04-15T00:19:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm a teacher, I think I'm going to stop doing things just because I can. I'm saying this because as a teacher I realize why we shouldn't just do things because we can, for instance, I just ate an entire container of hummus with my fingers (I have nothing else to put it on,) at first I was just going to scoop up a bit for a taste and save the rest for when I can afford some crackers, but after a couple of scoops, I decided I was just going to to eat the whole container, why? because I could, thats why, but now my stomach is mad, and I will lie down on my side for a while. If you just do what you want all the time, bad things would happen. So for now on I'm just going to do what I want sometimes, and for the rest of the time, I will suffer the pains of self discipline. Have to practice what you preach right?

In Hawaii, 80's music just feels right.

2010-04-14T23:39:00.001-07:00

1:55 is why i will surf tomorrow

2010-04-13T00:33:00.001-07:00

MODERN COLLECTIVE - good morning wedge from Kai Neville on Vimeo.

hampster i need a 5'6x20'x2'3/4... no rocker!--hurry up--

Man Movie

2010-04-11T22:19:00.001-07:00

I'm supposed to be devising a sponge activity for high-school kids to do when I show up as a substitute and there's no lesson plan, but instead I'm watching this...

Voyage of the Mermen

2010-04-08T23:59:00.000-07:00

A Sailing Vessel from Brian Herron on Vimeo.

So I guess there hasn't been to many words on here lately. I feel pretty bad about that because I really enjoy the art of word orientation, I guess I've just been kind of burnt out on writing as of late. Right now I'm burnt out on everything really, I mean literally burnt out, as I think I have some weird form of sun poisoning... my ears are hot.

But enough! Enough about my red ears, and warm fore-head, it's time for some new words, strung together in a manner that is meant to please you. A story. About men and the sea, or rather mer-men, and the bay... the Delaware bay to be exact.

Last summer (wow already, just after those first two words I feel like this is going to be a lame story--I'll try to make it more interesting...) On the 29th summer of my life, I stepped on to a 37 foot sailboat as a boy. (better?) Two days later I stepped off a man, or rather, a Merman. Let me explain.

My father--Emmitt Bostic Herron--did not come from the sea. (Like the dashes there?) Instead, he came from a sandy, piney area of land known as "New Jersey," given this name by a tribe of Nordic Fisherman who discovered the place way back in 1583. (That is false,) anyway he didn't grow up around the ocean, but somehow still developed a passion for the great deep watery parts of the world. Where this passion stems from I do not know, but I suspect, perhaps, it comes from some ancient Native American line that has worked it's way into our blood. (This may be doubtful, but I'm not letting go of it until someone proves me wrong,) in any case he is, and has always been, passionate about the water. Now, I feel it important to point out that I also have a bit of a passion for the water, and for a long time, in my youthful ignorance, believed this passion to be something I found on my own. In retrospect I now realize that this zeal for sea spray and wind and the very song of the sea-gulls has indeed been handed down to me by none other than this very Emmitt Bostic, my father.

Let this photograph be a thing of proof in the matter...

My pops and I on one of his first boats, circa. 1983.

And also this one,

For those of you who might suspect, yes, that be the very "teardrop" van we grew up in.

(Wow, I'm starting to use pirate talk, it's weird how my internal voice changes and takes shape as I talk story...) To continue with the story, let's see where did I leave off... oh yes, as it turns out, my father played a big part in my obsession with oceanic things. (I must also mention that my sweet, sweet mother--Joanne Dunn Herron--god bless her, has also played a significant role in this direction I have chosen, but thats an entirely different story.) So my old man bought a boat, a sailboat to be exact, and a 37 foot endeavor sloop to be quite exact. The sloops name be Windsong Two, never mind about the Windsong One, tis the second time's the charm right, (well no, you might be sayin, tis the third time thats the charm, but nevermind you then if thats the case... lets just say that for the sake of this story--tis the "second" time thats the charm.) Windsong Two, I said, is the name of the vessel, and very proud of her my old man is, for lots of hard greasy and grimey work he has put into her, with the help of both I and my little brother, who dosen't happen to be in this story, but since he's put in atleast twice as much work as I in the tuning up of the old vessel I will include this picture of him from her maiden voyage, just for sentiments sake...

Once again, back to the story. And now let me go all the way back, back to the summer, when, for adventures sake, and for the spirit of the good Windsong Two, my dad proposed a voyage. This voyage was to take place over the course of two days and would require a crew of three worthy men, not including the captain.

"I propose a voyage to you and yours, my good son," my father said to me one day, (actually he said, "hey Brian I want to take the boat out for an overnight trip to Chesapeake City sometime this summer," but It was more fun to write it with the voice of an old britishy piratey guy...,) and I replied, "very well then sir, shall I stir the gentleman," (I actually did say this,) and he replied, "Brian, what the hell is that supposed to mean, just ask some of your friends..." So ask I did.

Soon enough I had persuaded two of the very finest watermen I know: Luke Berkey, and the Slug. Luke was quite excited to join us on our voyage for two reasons, one, he had not really had any solid sailboat adventures yet under his belt, (though he has just about every other kind of adventure stuffed in there, not to mention a few ducks, and deer antlers to boot,) and two, Luke is always, always I tell you, up for adventure.

Slug on the other hand was in for two very different reasons, one being that he knows boats on water like the back of his hand, (Slug breathes boats on water, the kid bleeds marine resin for Neptune's sake, as boats and boat building is something that has been handed down to him (and his brother, who's not in this story either) from many generations of watermen) and two, being on a large sailboat for a few days meant one very important thing to the Slug--Heavy Beer Drinking.

The voyage was to be an easy days sail up the Delaware bay, through the C&D canal, and across to the tiny old-timey water town known as Chesapeake City. It would take us about(there's little Hawaiian kids screaming across the street at my neighbors house while I'm writing this, it's about eleven p.m... kinda weird,) eight hours to get there. Or atleast thats about how long we thought it would take us... Instead it took us about seventeen hours, I'll tell you why.

The Delaware Bay is a very shallow and dangerous body of water. For those of us who are new to it's many moods, it is a place of struggle, fear, triumph, and failure. In any body of water as shallow as the Delaware, forces like the moons pull, and the winds push, have great effect. (Ahh, I'm sick of writing, this story is lame, I'm going to bed.)

(Ok I'm awake, it's morning, and my eyes are almost swollen shut, back to the story.) The Delaware Bay is a very tricky body of water. The fact that it is shallow, very shallow in parts, means that it can "stir" easily--think of waves in a bathtub, v.s. waves in a pond. This fact combined with our constant inability to predict the tide, and the winds never ending variability, led to our having to make a decision quite early on in the voyage.

We set out at around 6:00 am, as the tide in our portion of the bay, the "Maurice river portion," was low then, our intention being that we would ride the tide in and up the bay all day. The first part of our cruise was nice, we were in good spirits, eager to put some distance between us and the land. We motored and sailed smoothly out of port in a straight line running perpendicular across the bay. The tide was on our side for this little hop out into the middle of the bay. At the center of the bay there is a shipping channel, our intention was to turn and skirt the channel all the way up to the mouth of the C&D canal. Soon we reached the channel, and turning north, began to work our way up the bay. Here is a map to help you get a better idea of our course...

Basically, we followed the first half of the red line... Chesapeake City lies about half way across the Canal, so we didn't enter the Chesapeake bay.

At this point we were in good spirits, so upon Slugs request we started drinking beer. Lets call this about 10:00 am. After about two or three beers each (more for slug, no beers for the cap'n) we realized something wasn't quite right. We weren't going anywhere. The tide had turned, and the wind seemed to be changing as well, instead of blowing across the bay out of the southwest as the wind often does in the summer months in that region of the world, it began to blow northwest... directly down the bay, straight out of the direction we wanted to go. Now our nice little six hour sail up the bay looked more like an eight to ten hour jaunt, as we would have to make long tacks across the wind to gain our way up the bay.

At first we viewed this as the very thing I just said (I realize this story is starting to suck, I'm just not feeling very creative cause my face is swollen, and I should be painting my landlords house instead of writing, so I'm trying to rush it cause I wan to get done,) a challenge. And after a few beers, there's nothing more enticing to a man of the water than a good challenge, so we went for it. After a few hours of not really making any way, it became hard for us to ignore the fact that at the rate we were going we wouldn't reach our destination until some time that evening, if we reached it at all. It was time for us to make a decision. Turn back, and enjoy the weekend with our families, or fire up the Yanmar, and try to power our way up the bay like real men.

Yanmar is a company that makes engines. They make good diesel engines for sailboats, been makin 'em for years, and our particular yanmar is proof of that. It's old enough to have developed some personality, some soul, (think the motor on the boat in Jaws,) these are things new motors don't typically have, it's something that only comes with time like a good old bottle of wine, or a nice ripe cheese. In-fact new motors are inferior to old motors in almost every way aside from the fact that they usually work. And it's not that old motors don't work, most of them do, they just choose when and how good, like I said they have some personality, they demand respect, and if you don't give it, then you go nowhere, plus you have to do battle with them, sometimes wrenching for hours, blasting curses into the air and cutting your knuckles to pieces. For the sake of the story and the motor, I will use our motors family name of Yanmar when I talk on him here in this story.

So Yanmar was fired up, of course, of course we decided that we would go for it, we were men, and so we did what any real men would do, we cracked open a few more beers, pinned ourselves against all odds, and put all our money on the old motor that has a history of over-heating. Soon enough we were making way, with Yanmar chugging along at close to full throttle, it seemed like no hardship, be it tide, be it wind, could stand in the way of our glorious stupidity. Then Yanmar got pissed.

After about 6 more hours of motoring and sailing, and just about when we reached the mouth of the treacherous C&D canal, the motor began to overheat. Now let me talk on the canal for a second. The C&D canal, (the Chesapeake and Delaware) is a 14 mile long, full sea level shipping canal. This means that at any moment during our trip up the canal (against the tide) a huge freighter could come steaming down on us with limited stopping power, as well as limited overall maneuverability. This means that basically, you should not enter the channel unless you have absolute control over your boat.

Here's an empty ship in the canal...

If you do not have "absolute control" over your boat you could find yourself in big trouble, as these ships cruise the channel at fairly high speeds and with surprisingly little or no noise, therefore heeding little or no warning for three drunked merman sailors, and one strung out captain.

After motoring and sailing for over 13 hours up the Delaware, tired, strung out, and hung over, and with a quickly overheating chugging and beeping and rattling old Yanmar... we decided to enter the C&D canal. In the dark.

At around 9:00 p.m. with yours truly at the wheel, we started to make our way between the rocks. Our plan was to try to work our way up the side of the canal and if we lost power, to quickly drop an anchor, and if the anchor didn't fetch, as it probably wouldn't because we were in the middle of a huge shipping lane, to try to put the boat on the rocks as "gently" as possible, (no one actually verbally alluded to that part of our plan, but we were all thinking it.)

As we made our way up the canal a kind of quiet came over us. It was almost as if we each chose this time to reflect on not only our lives in the past--the people and places that we each loved--but also on the magic of the moment. As twisted and "uncertain" as it was, there was a kind of magical quality to it, a serene beauty caused not only by our surroundings, but also by our circumstances. We were going for it. This trip was a challenge for us all, and if you ask any of us we might not say it was the most enjoyable time we have ever had on a boat, but the trip did have it's moments, and this was one of them. ( I guess you could say that this is where we turned into mermen, I don't know why, actually I guess we were already mermen, but this is where we realized it.)

After four hours of motor sailing in the night, constantly looking back, checking for a ship to come bearing down on us out of the night, like some great bull elephant silently charging out of the jungle, we reached Chesapeake City. Yanmar held up. When we finally dropped the hook in the back of the basin the clock on the boat read one hour past midnight. This meant we still had one hour to jump in the inflatable and, like seal team six, infiltrate the small town for some whiskeys.

The captain showed no interest in the mission, he had had enough, and I suspect that a little time alone was what he desired most, so the three of us, Luke, Slug, and I quickly changed clothes and hopped in the dinghy. I remember crossing the basin in that little boat with two of my very best friends, feeling like old times--giving chase to the women, drinking beer, and sneaking around the outsides of parties trying to devise some grand entrance. (There was no chasing women on this trip.) Soon we reached a dock and the Slug tied us off. From where we docked we had to jump a couple of fences to get to our most important destination: the bar.

The scene at the bar was winding down, there had been some kind of festivities there earlier that night, a wedding, and only the most persistently drunk remained. It was perfect. I felt like I had just landed on some barbaric island in the middle of the Carib--crowded with riff-raff and dogs. The perfect place for a drink. And drink we did, shots first, then beers, then I don't really remember. I don't think any of us do, and it's probably better that way. One thing we do know is that we made it. We gambled and won. We risked everything for a little adventure and in the end, we found something that had been there all along. Our good old friendships. (And alcohol, of course.)

Thanks

Fin.

The Green Cave

2010-04-07T01:52:00.000-07:00

Cavebrother's had a tough winter all by himself up there in LBI, but after a nice trip to the big ol' Pacific, and a little time well spent in the green cave, he's right back on track. Check out his newest passion...

MUSIC TO MY LITTLE BROTHERS EARS from Brian Herron on Vimeo.