Sunrise & Shine: A tale of two storms
Thoughts and prayers go out to everyone affected by Hurricane Idalia. That was a nasty one for sure, and a lot of people, from Florida up to the Carolinas are going to have their hands full dealing with cleanup and recovery.
If you'd like to offer a hand from afar, consider donating to the American Red Cross and then you can narrow in from there. Now in the Atlantic, what's left of Idalia is forecast to throw up some seas back down to Florida.
And after seeing the mercilessness of the storm, and now considering surfing waves that ultimately originated from her power, it makes me wonder, even just the tiniest bit, do swells have a soul?
Can waves be good or bad?
And not in the hollow tubes vs. mushy close-outs sense. Rather, I’m wondering if waves feel a tension between naughty and nice.
I’d like to imagine not. I’d prefer to assume that all waves are powered by the same purity one feels when riding them.
But when you look at the contrast between the two recent systems—Franklin and Idalia—you could start to wonder.
First you've got Franklin, who seems to be the perfect storm. Not a Marky Mark and George Clooney Perfect Storm, but like the perfect honor roll student of storms that piled on the waves without making landfall or causing damage.
Waves for days turning up free smiles from Florida to Hatteras. OBX was like a fun factory.
Then there was Idalia, a blob that popped up in the gulf, gorged on record sea temps, and bloated into a Category 4 hurricane in a matter of a day or two.
She pumped mostly washing-machine waves on approach before crashing into the Big Bend and then surging up through coastal Georgia and the Carolinas, flooding everything along the way.
Alabama got some clean fun out of her, but for the most part she just caused damages. But after her rage against the southeast, now she's sending some waves back our way.
How should I feel about that?
Sometimes sourcing your swell can make for a moral dilemma. It’s like realizing where or how your clothes are made, the dark side of your wetsuit rubber, or literally how the sausage is made.
Who’s energy am I tapping into if I surf these waves made by such a destructive force.
At the end of the day, I'd like to think it’s all just Mother Nature, and appreciate all her beauty, good and bad. No point in thinking much deeper than that.
Either way, I think it's safe to say that Santa's got Franklin listed for a Red Ryder BB gun, and Idalia down for a lump of coal—or a football at best.
Mind if I join?
Leave only footprints behind. On second thought, pick those up too, because Saturday Sep. 16th is International Coastal Cleanup day, hosted by the Ocean Conservancy. Everyone’s doing it, find a beach near you.
Congrats to the NSB board riders for taking advantage of, well, home break advantage, and winning the first leg of the Florida Cup, presented by Fat Tire.
DJ, turn it up. Diplo at the Florida Surf Film Festival?
Worth a watch
Chasing the Unicorn: A Mozambican Surf Story.
The Kangs did not disappoint. Highly recommend. Kudos to whoever from production decided to stitch together a 3-minute section of Mick, Mason, Gabe repeatedly saying, “Oh that’s like a nice little right over there.” Stitched me up pretty good.
Talk surfy to me
Soundings with Jamie Brisick (The Surfer’s Journal): Takuji Masuda
On nose-riding at Pipeline, mentors, curation and Super X Media, Bunker Spreckels, and facilitating connections between tradition and youth culture in Japan.
Pre-shredded
OBX welcomed Hurricane Franklin’s swell like a veteran bell boy at the Biltmore. Pilgrims from all over were there to cash in too. Dunphy scored. Of course Bret Barley was all over it, chasing late-summer lightning bugs in his backyard.
Books: On Water by Thomas Farber: You won’t understand half of it. Half of it will make you want to go surfing. And half of it will make you feel rather unintelligent. Did I do that math right?
Pray for surf
Still plenty of swell in the forecast for the east coast, but the gulf goes back to an empty bar after this week’s quick and dirty happy hour of waves.
Don’t forget to put all your white pants away.
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