Thanks, Bruce!

The recent death of pioneer surf film-maker Bruce Brown is another wake-up call that all things must pass. The last wave you rode no longer exists. Brown, who lived to 80, burst on the scene with his feature-length film, The Endless Summer, in 1966. It was the first surf documentary to be shown in mass-market theaters and catapulted the sport of wave riding to a wide-spread audience.

It wasn’t really a documentary, it was a feature film that anyone who loved adventure and the outdoors could appreciate. It had a two major characters, a theme — searching for the perfect wave — and locations, as it visited the most intriguing places around the world where waves could be found. Wow! It was irresistible. In addition, the movie was narrated by Bruce himself in a laidback, self-deprecating style —at least from the surfers’ point of view. This was adventure not only for expert surfers but for anyone who could laugh at himself. Brown set a tone for surf adventure that would be carried on for generations.

I remember seeing the film at the drive-in with friends. We probably had some beer with us that we requisitioned through the “shoulder-tap” method since we were about two years shy of being “legal.” It never seemed to be a problem, although when I think about it today I shudder at the risk to all. And this was in the day before seat belts. What were we thinking? We weren’t. We were simply enjoying a period of growing up and, in this case, watching a movie unlike any we had seen. It’s possible that we drove to Doheny, some 70 miles away, that night, slept in the car and paddled out at our favorite break the next morning.

The death of Bruce Brown raises these kinds of wonderful memories with the knowledge that we,
too, shall pass. I say this now at the age of 70. A few of my best buddies have already departed. Fortunate are we who are still around to swap old stories. No one else wants to listen. Yet I think those of us who remain can still hear Brown’s voice telling us in his wry, perceptive way how much fun and what an adventure we were having.

Marine Sanctuaries Under Review

In a couple of weeks, President Trump will receive a report on a review he ordered to determine whether to roll back areas granted marine sanctuary status since 2007. This includes Monterey Bay as well as sanctuaries near San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara and the Channel Islands, as well as other precious waters in the US. The question asked by Trump is, do these areas interfere with potential oil and gas development?

While the rest of the modern world is making plans for a renewable-energy future, our president is more concerned with drilling for limited fossil-fuel energy sources to satisfy his big-oil pals. The ocean produces half the world's plant life, generates weather, absorbs excess atmospheric carbon, supplies food and transportation routes for our economy. And this same ocean water is under stress.

Dan Haifley, executive director of the O'Neill Sea Odyssey floating lab and educational program, makes a case for vigilience in today's Santa Cruz Sentinel as the review gets closer. For more information, visit www.sanctuaries.noaa.gov. Let's save our precious resource, and catch a few more waves.

A combined north-south swell hit the central coast on Friday and is still working, although fading, today (Sunday).  Lots of fun out there. Hope you caught some of it!

The Garden Island

This mosaic mural on the side wall of the canoe club bldg. at Nawiliwili Harbor represents Queen Liliuokalani's reception to the island of Kauai in 1891. She was overwhelmed by the warm welcome that included many lighted torches and throngs of islanders cheering her.

For such a small island, Kauai offers so much, not the least of which is its sheer magical beauty. No wonder so many films over the years have been made here, and no wonder more and more people are coming to visit, and so many stay.

Today The Garden Island daily newspaper (tgi) reported that the number of airline flights to Kauai in 2018 has increased by more than 42-percent, Many of these flights are direct from major U.S. cities. Economically it may sound good, but the local tourist bureau and many local businesses do not view this as a positive thing. This will increase car rentals and traffic on the few roads here.  The impact will negatively effect the small, already crowded island in many ways.

Celebrities and world travelers have discovered the Garden Island and bought up key viewpoints and acreages. These include  Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg who purchased 400 acres a couple years ago on the northwest side and put a rock wall around it. Locals are curious: what's he going to do? Build? Property values are on an upward trajectory.

The state visitors council will be holding meetings in October, on Oahu, to discuss the future of the islands and their capacity for tourism. As the smallest and oldest of the primary islands, Kauai is most threatened.

I was fortunate to have visited Kauai in 1968 before the huge developments, when there was one traffic signal on the island. Even today, the community vibe is still alive. "Living here is like living in a third world country," says one woman who moved here from the mainland 15 years ago.

Things are done on Hawaiian time, which basically means "go with flow." Priorities are not so much about getting things done as going to the beach to cool off, or watching the sun rise and set, or ensuring that you are eating healthy organic food.

I feel somewhat guilty being another haole on the island, one more body, one more car on the road. We are just visitors at this point. And living in the once-small beach community of Santa Cruz, Calif. for the past forty years we understand how impacted such places can become with the changing world. We also have learned to live frugally without many of the popular "necessities." Ride a bike instead of drive your car. Watch the sunset instead of TV. Learn to play a musical instrument. The list goes on.

Storm Pounds Kauai

Barb and I at Queen's Bath. Below: Hideaways beach sketch and  photo.

The above headline appeared in the local newspaper, The Garden Island, yesterday after Monday's surprise storm. Heavy rain and strong winds pelted the island felling trees and creating flash food warnings near rivers. The Hanalei Bridge was closed at 4 pm and into the night until raging waters receded.

The rains are normal for this time of year, said one local. The high winds are not so normal and came from out of nowhere, he added. The strong winds were not predicted by weather forecasters.

Hideaways Beach

On Tuesday on the north side workers were repairing holes in roofs and cutting up fallen  trees that had crashed to the ground many creating hazards on local roads.

Barbara and I have been on the island for nearly two weeks. We are staying in a private home owned by people we met during an earlier visit. They are traveling in California and have given us a sweet deal to house sit here in Princeville. Lucky us. We are grateful, and love visiting our daughter and granddaughter who live here on the island.

Hanalei Water Quality Warning

Hanalei Bay tranquil and inviting on August 11. The following day Surfrider Kauai's Blue Water Task Force was startled when they took a reading of the water quality on the river-mouth side of the pier. The data showed a bacteria count of 24,150 parts per 100 mL, more that 24,000 parts  higher than the threshold for safe water contact. Warning signs were posted a few days later when the Hawaiian State Department of Health (DOH) confirmed the extraordinary level of enterococci bacteria, presumed to be from cesspool links along the river or a sewage spill. Carl Berg of Surfrider said his reading was "as high as I could test," the highest recording since he began testing 10 years ago. High bacteria levels were also recorded on the other side of the island at both Waimea Bay And Koloa landings where water contact warnings were posted. The lack of surf may prolong the concentration of bacteria, but in any case the situation speaks to some of the problems created by greater populations of people and the capacities of the tiny archipelago in the middle of the Pacific.

Jack O'Neill Paddle-Out

Memorial paddle-out for wetsuit pioneer Jack O'Neill. This photo by Jim MacKenzie taken from one of the many boats on the water that day (July 8, 2017) appropriately in front of Jack's landmark cliff house. Thousands showed up to pay their respects. 

Always Summer on the Inside

Jack O'Neill has succumbed at the age of 94. The inventor of the modern wetsuit has passed on to the next wave, that fluid, organic state from whence he came. You had a long and fruitful ride, Jack. Thanks for your contributions. Wishing you a happy and peaceful next journey.

No one had a greater effect on the world of modern surfing than Jack O'Neill.  The wetsuit, an insulating and protective skin for cold water sports, may have been inevitable, given human ingenuity. But Jack is the one who made it happen. He was the right guy at the right time.

The effect of the wetsuit is astounding, if you think about it. For today's old guys, it was say goodbye to 20-minute winter sessions in frigid water and hello to hours of surfing almost anywhere in the world. It was like making the transition from horse to car for transportation, black-and-white to color, like man going to the moon. 

Take a look at the lineups in Santa Cruz -- Jack's adopted and longtime home town -- and you'll see throngs of wetsuit-clad surfers sitting on boards, riding waves and otherwise, all looking like seal-skin creatures from the deep lagoon. It's staggering, because only a tiny fraction of those water-borne amphibians in the dark suits would be out there if it weren't for Jack. They'd be hugging land, for sure in places like Iceland, Scotland and Alaska.

We have all been treated to a really cool layer of skin that enables us to surf regardless of water temp. Thanks, Jack!

There are lots of places to learn about this inventor, waterman, marketing genius and environmental steward. "It's Always Summer on the Inside" by Drew Kampion (see book cover above) is a good place to start. Following is my brief, yet spectacular experience with Jack.

An early, provocative O'Neill's ad that is in the book.

I met Jack at his house on a foggy summer morning in 1979. Overlooking one of the most popular surfing spots in Santa Cruz -- Pleasure Point -- Jack's home cantilevers above the beach and foamy surf below, with south-facing windows and decks exposing the Monterey Bay.

Dressed in a sweat shirt and jeans, he offered me coffee as we sat at a table with a view. It was a typical June morning in Santa Cruz, grey light filtered through a marine layer of low clouds and fog, a monochromatic picture from inside his sparsely furnished beach pad, where he lived till the end.

A deeper, glassy ocean churned quietly below. He was alone at his house, wearing his iconic black patch over his left eye. He appeared the image of a sea captain or pirate, though not gruff or hurried, more laid-back, casual and at ease. That was 39 years ago, which would have made him 56 at the time.

I was there to interview him for a profile to go in a tourist publication called the Visitors Guide. He asked me right off if I knew Drew Kampion who at that time I believe was editor of Surfer magazine and one of the seminal writers about modern surfing starting in the 1960s. It was obvious that Jack was fond of Drew. It is fitting that he authored the most comprehensive book about Jack's life. 

We chatted about the state of surfing and the contribution of his wetsuit. But the main thing Jack wanted to talk about was windsurfing. "It's the next big thing," he said. His enthusiasm was palpable. I believed him. He was the man on the cutting edge, a proven innovator.

Of course windsurfing never surpassed surfing, which catapulted in popularity in the '90s with the re-emergence of the longboard. We have also witnessed kite surfing, stand-up paddling, wave kayaking and big-wave riding to the extreme. All the while Jack continued to expand his empire of wetsuits and surf apparel. He also became seriously involved in ocean protection and education through his non-profit Sea Odessey conservation program. The Monterey Bay became a National Marine Sanctuary in 1992.

For years you would spot him around town driving his 1956 Jaguar with the top down, or riding his bicycle along the ocean cliffs. Today you see an array of flowers expressing love, sympathy and appreciation on the inland side of his beloved beach house.

Thanks Benny! We Love You!

Ben Beverly with Pennywise at the Summer Sonic 2004 Festival in Tokyo.

What are you to do when someone too young leaves. Ben (Benny) Beverly was 39 years young when his body chose to shut down and check out a week ago Friday. We weren't prepared for this. Perhaps he was. We can only guess. By "we" I mean his family, friends and anyone else who knew him. He was too good. That dumb cliche, "the good die young," rang through my head like a clanging bell. You don't know what to think. How? Why? Or do. Just cry for a while. Then remember all the times you shared with him, and listen to those who knew him best tell stories about him. The thing is, the stories are basically all the same: He was a powerful, positive force, a kind soul, funny, sharp witted, helpful to a fault, no enemies, everyone who ever came across him remembered him that way.

I have three memories of Benny that I want to share. I'll keep it brief. They span from the time he was about seven or eight years old to last December.

Benny was the golden child of the Beverly family of Manhattan Beach. He was the first born of the Beverly children -- Barbara, Bill (Ben's father), Bobby and Brian -- the first grandchild of Sen. Robert (Bob) Beverly, aka RG, and his wife Bettelu. As first born, Benny received a great deal of initial attention. He was a young star in the family.

My first interaction with him was on his front lawn. He must have been seven or eight. It was just the two of us playing football. I would throw him the ball and he would attempt to run by or around me for an imagined touchdown. I was the adult and he was the child having a younthful experience. I feigned trying to catch him but allowed him to get by me and score. He had this big smile and wanted to do it again. I started making it more difficult for him by grabbing him. His response was pure joy and laughter. You love to see the pure joy of a child. I never forgot it. Benny would become a formidable offensive lineman and captain of his high school football team.

About 15 years ago he came to Santa Cruz with the punk/skater band Pennywise to perform at the Catalyst night club. Benny called, and Barbara and I went downtown to see him. He was in charge of promotions, and would occasionally fill in on bass guitar. Before showtime he introduced us to members of the band who were lounging around their large tour bus in the back parking lot. We knew nothing about the band. Benny was gracious and so were the musicians, seemingly polite, well-behaved young men. It was very chill.

For the concert, Benny set up a few boxes of Pennywise swag -- mostly T-shirts -- that he sold near the bar. When the music started a mosh pit formed in front of the stage. Soon you could see bodies being thrown around above the pit, like flames licking up from a fire, some diving head-first back down into it. A bloody face would occasionally appear from the audience in the back of the room where Barbara and I were posted. Between songs, the lead singer would shout a few expletives at the fans, followed by loud, pounding, scrambled music, the pit would form and the scene would repeat.

We watched for about 15 or 20 minutes. "I can't believe those are the same boys that we met in the bus," said Barbara. "They seemed so civilized."

I was awed by the scene. Benny made sure that I received a Pennywise T-shirt, which I kept and wore. One time I was wearing the shirt while shopping at our local community market and a young male clerk said to me: "You don't look like someone who would wear a Pennywise shirt." He was  befuddled. I guess by my age. "My nephew gave it to me when they were in town," I said, proud of that fact. Benny wouldn't steer me wrong. I was cool.

Some time over the years Benny became Ben, the adult version of Benjamin.

Last December, Ben drove his grandma Bettelu, Barbara and me to a Lakers game at the Staples Center in Los Angeles. His uncle Bobby (Bob) was throwing a birthday party for himself, family and a few friends in a private suite at the game. Bettelu was 91 at the time and it was a big deal to get her out for the night game. On the way Ben and I talked NBA. He was a serious aficionado of the game with a wealth of knowledge. "How do you know so much about that?" Bettelu asked.

With Ben at the wheel, we were able to bypass long lines of freeway traffic and zipped right down to the venue, pulling a U-turn on the main street in front of the arena, in full view of police and security. He chatted briefly with the parking attendant, gave him the Benny hand signal, I guess, and we cruised up to the curb in front of the VIP entrance where his grandmother would be able to easily negotiate entry to the building. She required a walker. Ben had it all dialed.

During the game I was sitting next to Ben and I asked him if he had ever thought about acting, being in LA and all, and having connections. "I could see you playing the role of a wise guy, you know, a mobster." Ben was a big man, and although cherub-like, you wouldn't want to mess with him. He had been a football star. He nodded his head and said, "I'll accept that."

It was a casual aside and afterward I wondered if I had mistakenly type-cast or insulted him. Nah. Bigger than life and sweeter than an ice cream sundae, Benny would never hold something like that against anyone. You just hope he knew, inside that big heart of his, how special he was.


Final Note: Ben Beverly spent the last few years working for Brushfire, a music label started by Jack Johnson, who wrote the following after learning of Benny's passing last week:

"We've lost a special member of our Brushfire family. Ben Beverly was truly a classic . He was sincere and kind, with the biggest heart and most contagious smile. When he walked into the room, your day got better. He worked incredibly hard for every artist on the label and made the office and the studio feel more like a home. We shared many amazing and memorable experiences together. Ben, it was an honor to call you a friend, and you will be missed more than words can express. Aloha, Jack."

Surfer's are Canaries in the Coal Mine

If the new U.S. administration is not going to do anything -- or worse -- about climate change and our environment, surfers around the world will and are. They are the ones in the ocean on a regular basis and the first to witness rising sea levels, huge water runoffs from weird storms and other changes to offshore sea life.

The following piece does a good job of telling us what's going on with our precious oceans.

www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/surfing-climate-change-donald-trump_us_58c05f3be4b0d1078ca38474

Log and Two Landmarks

50-foot log wedged into corner of Mitchell's Cove from winter storm run-off down San Lorenzo River

Steamer Lane Supply snack shack

Surfing Museum inside the lighthouse

Story Behind the Story

My new longboard arrived and this is how she looked before I rubbed three coats of wax on her deck. The artistic concept, as I envisioned it, was a blue sky above a sandy colored beach with two reddish-brown stripes representing redwoods from the winter storms that now lay on so many of our beaches and in the crannies of small coves. The board was shaped by Bob Pearson of Arrow Surf in Santa Cruz and in size and shape it is a replica of the board I had been riding for the past ten years that finally reached a tipping point with a de-laminating deck that had become as soft as a cushion on your couch.

It took way too long to make -- nearly three months -- and near the end of that period Bob did call me and leave an apologetic message on my voicemail. He had told me three-four weeks to begin with... but hey, it's a beautiful 10'2" board perfect for small to medium-sized waves that roll through Cowells where I will be riding it. I have two other smaller longboards, one for travel and one that is stashed in Manhattan Beach for beach-break surfing down there.

Stealth Trip South

I drove south to MB a couple of weeks ago not to surf -- and that was good because the waves weren't that good anyway -- but for professional reasons related to golf. It was a stealth attack on the southland that I tried to keep on the QT. And I knew it would keep me from angsting over when my board would be ready. I had received a call from the publisher of a lifestyle magazine in San Jose that I have been contributing to for the past 15 years or more, mostly golf features. About a year ago I had pitched a profile of super-star golfer Juli Inkster for the magazine. The hook was that Juli lived in the area served by the magazine and in August of 2017 she would be the captain of the U.S. women's team for the prestigious Solheim Cup in which the world's best female golfers from the United States face off against Europe's best in a three-day tournament. It is the female version of the men's Ryder Cup which receives a ton of publicity. The publisher now wanted that profile of Inkster and gave me a three-week deadline.

Women athletes in all sports do not receive the recognition that is given to men. I recently read a piece in the Surfers Journal about Lisa Anderson, once a surfing icon and female role model who is now living a chill life in Carlsbad, hardly heard of anymore yet arguably once the equal of her male counterpart Kelly Slater who is still competing and making good money doing it. The SJ piece was written by Chas Smith, a gonzo-style surf writer who likes to put himself into the story as a semi-crazed alcohol-driven observer-participant. I was looking for a concept that I might work into my piece on Juli Inkster other than the Solheim Cup and her personality. And I found it: That would be the discrepancies between elite male and female athletes, how they are perceived by media, the money they make and more. The alcohol-driven madness that fueled Smith's writing about Lisa was not something I wanted to get into. Although I did find myself immersed in a queer madness of my own on my road-trip home.

I had reached Juli initially by phone, or I should say she reached me. I had found a contact at a local golf course who was an associate of hers. I explained by purpose and he said Juli would contact me. I was lying around chilling on a Sunday afternoon when she called. We chatted briefly as I introduced myself. Luckily I had a pad and pen nearby. I scribbled notes as fast as I could. I asked if we could set up a time to meet for an in-person interview and she said she was in Palm Springs until March. We talked a little more and I asked if I could call her back with some prepared questions. She was amenable and I found her casual and friendly over the phone.

Path to my Interiew

That night I woke up from a dead sleep with the idea that I could drive to Palm Springs for the interview. I could stay at my mother-in-law's place in Manhattan Beach, if she agreed of course, and if I could score passes I could take a day or more to watch the professional men golfers play in the Los Angeles Open (new corporate sponsor Genesis) at the super cool, exclusive Riviera Country Club in Pacific Palisades. This PGA tournament was happening the same week. It is the only opportunity for us heathens to walk this storied golf course that the legendary Ben Hogan called his favorite. It would be a two-for-one trip plus I could be company for my 91-year-old mother-in-law, who is a real firecracker and runs the show at her Manhattan Beach compound.

I was making big plans to see the men's best golfers in action on one of the most intimate courses. I'll admit generally prefer watching elite male athletes over women. But then I have never attended an LPGA (women's pro golf tournament). Meeting Juli in the desert would begin to change my mind.

She agreed to meet me for an in-person interview at a golf course in La Quinta, which is near Palm Springs in the beautiful Coachella Valley. I drove from Santa Cruz to Manhattan Beach the day before, noting the rolling, newly green hills of central California from all the rain. My only lengthly stop was at Refugio Beach State Park about 15 miles north of Santa Barbara. The campground was closed and I was allowed free access to the beach and restrooms by walking into the state park. There was one surfer out at the point with an occasional small wave rolling through. Signs of the recent storms were evident throughout the park.

Refugio Point

Flooded campground at Refugio

Thanks to my gracious mother-in-law Bettelu, I spent the night in MB and drove to La Quinta the next day. The air temp was a comfortable 82-degrees in the desert, a far cry from the wind and rain that was pelting Santa Cruz. This is why Juli spends wintertime here in La Quinta so that she can work on her game. At 56-years-of-age, she is still an elite athlete. She competes in about a dozen LPGA Tour events a year. She was born and raised in Santa Cruz and her list of awards is staggering, from three-time All American at San Jose State to the World Golf Hall of Fame. As a pro golfer she has won seven majors, including two U.S. Open titles. In August she will captain the U.S. Solheim Cup team against the Europeans. She coached them to victory in 2015, when the Cup was held in Germany. She doesn't like to lose.

Meeting Juli

I arrived at Tradition early, sent her a text that I was there. She told me to meet her at the club house. She wanted to clean up after her workout. "I'll meet you on the patio. Get yourself a drink," she said. I was obviously out of my element at this exclusive, members-only golf course. I was asked to tuck in my shirt (at least I was wearing a golf shirt). Entering the patio I was told that I would have to remove my cap. I found a table, ordered an iced tea and made myself comfortable, going over my notes and questions for Juli.

"Hi, I'm Juli," I heard her voice. I stood and she offered her hand to shake. This was not a dainty woman's hand. Her grip was firm and her palm was that of a working woman, someone who spends time outside. She is a nice looking woman who appears younger than her age. She moves with a lose, graceful, confident manner. She's trim and obviously in great physical shape. She's neither tall nor short and I would later describe her appearance as the "mom next door."

"Don't let her casual manner fool you," I was told by an associate of hers. "She is out to kick your butt."

We chatted for about an hour and following are some of my impressions of Juli Inkster and I believe others who dominate their sport:

There are elite athletes and then there are elite athletes who rise above skill and talent. They possess a competitive quality that enables them to be consistent winners. She told me she was "a grinder."

They work exceptionally hard to keep fit mentally and physically.

They don't give up. They perform their best under pressure.

There is a no-nonsense quality about them. They don't like to waste time, which in their mind means just hanging around and not working to improve.

Because of their attitude and achievements, they possess "street cred" that makes them excellent leaders. This may not always be the case, but it's true for Juli who has proved herself a tremendous motivator for the 2015 Solheim team when they came from behind to claim victory.

We spent about an hour chatting. Juli was very accommodating. I liked her. Driving back to the beach afterward, it gave me time to think about our conversation. What stuck out? Did I have an opening for my story? How do you begin writing about someone who has already received a ton of accolades and attention?

On a personal level I had been moved. After hearing her answers to my questions and her comments about her life and career, I felt as though I simply hadn't tried hard enough during my life. If I had her will and determination, I would have had a much better chance of achieving my potential, whatever that is. I'm pretty laid back and have always felt comfortable with that. I had asked Juli if she had any regrets or disappointments and she thought for a split-second and replied, "No. It was tough at times being a mother and a pro golfer at the same time, but no regrets."

In my next blog post I will reveal a tale of the biggest storm to hit California with fallen trees, collapsed hillsides and torrents of water on the famed El Camino Real.

Westside Shots during January Storms

Queen of the Cove

Looking down on Mitchell's

Mitchell's Cove

Previously Mitchell's Cove "beach"

Mitchel's Cove: one man out

Its Beach

River Mouth from Trestle, High Tide

River Mouth after first storm wave, High Tide

Cowells 1/21/17

Wharf 1/21/17

Cowells

Cowells: during 2nd atmospheric river

Cowells before the deluge

Steamer Lane 1/24/17 early

Promises, Promises

Can we get a picture? How about a photo of those sloppy, dirty waves that Nat Young was riding just after the storm in front of the wharf? Hope he showered good. Lots of flotsam bobbing around. Watch out for large tree trunks!

The River Mouth was going off last week. Locals that call the break their home were performing aerials and ripping the faces of sets of brown waves curling at the Mouth where an impressive, if not expressive, sand bar has formed.

Longboarders snagged a few sweet early evening sessions at Cowells last week but the water was still scurvy and the sand bars inconsistent. Recent voluminous precip has prompted talk of back-to-back seasonably formed sand bars setting up for loggers, cruisers, nose-riders and the ilk. We'll see. More rain forecast for this week, with dumps of up to five - that's a big Cinco -- inches!

Keepin our fingers crossed and wax ready.

That's it for now. Will be watching closely as '17 shows promise.

Can we get a picture, please. Talk to the grip when he gets back. What just fell?