Sean Doherty

"Do they deserve it?" asked John Shimooka with a questioning inflection.
"Do we deserve it?" replied Jake Paterson before pausing, then bursting into a rhetorical seizure. "Of course we bloody deserve it, Shmoo! This is how we roll! Trailer parks aren’t our style; six star is our style! And we’re gonna live it up. I think I’m gonna trash the place. One thing’s for sure," he said, pausing for dramatic effect. "It’d never happen in our day!" It wouldn’t be the first time this line would be uttered on this trip. The two former pro surfers had just walked through the reception area of a $1,000-a-night resort in Seminyak, Bali, lamenting the fact that they were born 20 years too early. Paterson and Shmoo were chaperoning Quiksilver’s Young Guns team – Dane Reynolds, Julian Wilson, Ry Craike, Clay Marzo, and 15-year-old "mini-gun" Garrett Parkes – during the three-week filming window for the latest installment of the Young Guns franchise, and it soon became pretty obvious that nothing was going to be done by half…

Wayne "Rabbit" Bartholomew

Recently I found myself sitting with Shaun Tomson and Peter Townend at Snapper Rocks in Queensland, and though the surf was perfect, the three of us – all former world champions – were there not as competitors, but as enthusiastic spectators. Nearly 25 years ago we all would have been a little ways up the coast at Burleigh, at the top of our form and facing each other as mortal rivals in the Stubbies Pro. It’s a strange thing, time; now we were three world champions still keen as mustard, still crucially involved in the sport of surfing, watching the final heat of the Quiksilver Pro as eagerly and excitedly as stoked grommets. …

Mike Hynson rose to fame as The Endless Summer’s poster boy, fell to Earth as one of the most dangerous men in America, and is being resurrected as one of surfing’s most overlooked design gurus.
Steve Barilotti

Jimi had been dead a year, but the revolution – or at least a movie version of it – kept right on jammin’ without him.
Less than a month after Hendrix played a free concert on the slopes of Mt. Haleakela, effectively wrapping principal photography for Rainbow Bridge, the flamboyant rock virtuoso accidentally self-immortalized on a deadly cocktail of red wine and barbiturates, choking on his own vomit in a London flat on September 18, 1970. Within days of Hendrix’s death, Mike Hynson, former ’60s teen surf prodigy turned indie film producer, got the call from Warner Brothers Studios demanding immediate return of all original footage of Hendrix shot to date. With the lawyers circling, Hynson knew he had to move fast or lose Rainbow Bridge forever. Warner had not only funded the film – a rambling cinematic "happening" loosely based around a spiritual surfing quest – but they also controlled most of Hendrix’s music slated for the film’s soundtrack.
Hynson returned the canned footage. However, unbeknownst to the Warner suits, Hynson and director Chuck Wein had stashed a working print of Rainbow Bridge for safety. …


"The past is a foreign country," goes the adage. "They do things differently there." The same certainly goes for surfing’s past. Too often, when maundering through the pressed flowers of bygone days, our surf historians seem to fall into the rut of cataloging things in sing-song rote, "One fin, two fin, three fin, four – Slater won eight, MR won four."
Examining things more closely, we find that World War II influenced surfing more than Gidget, The Beach Boys (the haole ones) and Kelly Slater all rolled together. And inventions that are today hailed as major design breakthroughs were often slow to reach the masses. It took 10 years, according to Tom Blake, for the surfboard skeg to catch on. Everyone looks back with pride at the ironmen of yore, steering their redwood planks ashore with a dragged foot, but do we recollect that the lumberjack resistance of these men spurned lighter, shorter and faster boards, toasty new wetsuits, and surfboard leashes? …

How Three Major Milestones In The Dissemination Of Information Have Fast Tracked Surfing’s Evolution

Sam George

On the Northeastern coast of the Hawaiian island of Lanai lies a small pocket of sand known as Shipwreck Beach. Isolated and windswept, a visit requires a jarring trip over a rutted red-dirt track, recommended for four-wheel-drive vehicles only. The beach itself, a patch of gold cupped in the hands of black lava, is a lonely place, the tumbled ruins of the Poaiwa lighthouse keeping forlorn vigil over the jetsam-scattered berm. Across the Kalohi Channel, the island of Molokai humps up out of the blue sea like the back of a whale. Tourists – at least the intrepid ones – come here for the view, or to comb the wind-and-current swept sand for exotic shells and glass fishing floats, or to contemplate the fate of the many ships that have come to grief on this desolate shore. Very few realize that this wild spot on one of Hawaii’s least-visited shores could very well be the birthplace of an entire culture. …

Today’s Female Surfers Are Poised To Change Your View Of The World

Ben Marcus

Work at a surf magazine for 10 years and at some point your memory just gives up. You don’t remember dates or specifics, just random snippets. I worked in-house at SURFER Magazine from 1989 to 1998, and a handful of images still stand out. One of them is of Lisa Anderson, who stayed at my apartment on Calafia Street in San Clemente when we profiled her in 1994. At that point women were having a tough time getting any kind of respect in what was a very male-dominated surf world. At events the women’s heats were predominantly used as bathroom breaks, especially at places like Sunset, where many of them would simply get washed around and pounded. I remember watching and feeling sorry for them because, save for a handful of relatives and reporters, the judges were the only ones watching – and even that was debatable.