Hurricane Hermine

As with any good swell, Hermine kept us guessing until the last moment and then showed up with a blank check for fun times. The week before the swell arrived in New York, reports called for 12-14 feet at 10-12 second intervals - Pacific proportion with an Atlantic period and almost impossible to believe.

Aaron Austin

Jacques Naude

What arrived was not 10 feet, but it was nothing short of spectacular - well overhead waves that touched down on a high tide, easy us in gently with wall-y rollers and occasional chucking sections to keep us on our toes. As the tide dropped out on day one (of three!) the waves started to get bigger, hollower and more technical. It's rare that an Atlantic swell lasts for more than a day, let alone two, but Hermine truly delivered with three days of picture perfect waves in warm water and groomed with perfect offshores. 

With the wild swell report came a sense of trepidation from our beloved servant-protectors. Park rangers and police lined the beach, blaring sirens and shouting "the ocean is closed" through bullhorns, but to no avail. The size and the impossibly perfect conditions were too good to resist and New York surfers turned out to take their share. We even did the responsible thing and paused to take a few photos... 

Jeff Anthony

Jeff Anthony

Aaron Austin

Will Warasila

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Words by Ed Thompson

Photographs by Julien Roubinet

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Michoacán, Mexico

It being Spring and a very long time indeed since we last saw our swim shorts, we recently made a trip to Mexico to find some Pacific waves and pre-season sunshine. Being New Yorkers, we're not above a little base tanning, but a tanning salon is no place for two grown men with surfboards. 

We landed in Guadalajara and picked a line for the Michoacán coast, driving as fast as our feeble rental car could carry us, stopping occasionally to take photos and to sample the ceviche in Tecomán.  The report had shown the last shreds of a previous swell lingering for a shoulder-high evening session after the long drive. A fresh pulse swung into the coast the next morning and kept up for the next four days, easing slightly for a few days and then picking up again at the tail end of our visit. In short, we scored. We shared a perfect, peeling left point and occasional crunchy rights with a handful of friendly locals and a passing video crew from Vissla. For 10 perfect days.

As the sun began to climb in the sky each morning we would wait for the 'morning sickness' in the water to pass. Once the air had warmed and the wave settled, we would walk towards the point, first across the river mouth, picking our way over round rocks and then through a dense palm forest, littered with fallen coconuts. On some mornings we startled a nervous donkey tied up to a wooden fence by the beach, setting the creature off on a prolonged bray that echoed up the river valley. 

Eventually, we would emerge on the other side of the forest in a shady patch, dropping off water and something to eat after the session. We figured our way out into the water over seaweed-slippery stones and paddled out to the peak, marked by a huge cactus growing on the beach in front of the jungle. Then, for as many hours as our arms lasted, or until the sun had become so hot and high in the grey-blue above that the water offered no comfort, we surfed in glassy, peeling perfection.

Cam Richards - Vissla Team

The tiny village by the river mouth was peaceful and friendly, with a few small, family restaurants serving up ceviche, tacos, gringas and quesadillas prepared to perfection.  

Michoacán province has had a troubled and sometimes violent past due to the growing, manufacturing and trafficking of drugs to America, but the area seemed only mildly tense during our stay, with relaxed checkpoints on the roads and occasional patrols to the beach from Federales and even the military.

Almost the only downside on the whole trip (barring an episode with some seemingly undercooked octopus) was a long walk across hot rocks to access the point and the defensive line of bristling Pacific sea urchins waiting just beyond the rocky water entry. One errant step on the way in or out was a costly mistake we had all made several times by the end of the week. The wave was worth every urchin-spine. 

Above: The palm forest and unfinished shacks standing on the beach in front of the point; the wave itself, viewed from above on the curving coastal road of Michoacán.

Below: Local kids playing in the warm lake at the mouth of the river; Cam Richards picking a high line during an evening session. 

Cam Richards - Vissla Team

Words by Ed Thompson

Photographs by Julien Roubinet

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Videos

Our aim with this project is to create original writing and photography based on our journey. Our journal is a place to share notes from the margins of what we're doing. Generally we want to offer something unseen, not just act as a messenger for other people's work.

That said, when something touches us and is somehow left unnoticed, we're very glad to spread the word. Recently we've come across two videos that have left us both frothing.

The first video is a collection of super 8, camcorder and hi-res footage put together by Duncan Campbell, the other half of Campbell Bros Surfboards, who, with his brother Malcolm, invented the bonzer (two long-base, low-profile keel fins near the rails and a regular single fin*). It features style masters Russ Short, Rob Machado, Taylor Knox... and the two brothers themselves.

It can sometimes be an uneasy relationship surfers forge with a storm. We are very lucky to enjoy this tribute to what hurricane Joaquin offered us in the Northeast, but in the same moment we must think of those in the Southern states who have suffered from it. 

Three local surfers, Jeff Anthony, Shane Murphy & Pete Egan spent one of the storm-swell days in Rockaway with cameraman Thomas Brookins. They came back (the very same day!) with some of the best barrel footage we have ever witnessed!

Enjoy:

* Source: Encyclopedia of Surfing

Baja California Sur

Julien just came back from a trip to Baja California , Mexico. 4 days on the East Cape. A part of Baja that has remained under developed for the past 20 years, but might be changing in the near future with the new highway under construction.

For now, only one dirt road, poorly maintained, and your intuition will lead you to different surf spots. On the way you run into wild horses, donkeys and cows, and dozens of empty million dollars villas, most of which bear a "se vende" sign. Odile, a category 4 hurricane (on a scale of 5), severely damaged the peninsula in 2014, with winds reaching 140mph. It seems to have kept investors away, on the East side at least.

The drive is stunning, crystal clear water on your right and, on the other side, oddly sized and shaped cactus adorn a barren land. Most likely you will see only a couple other cars. 

People who actually live there, will drive to town once a week (Cabo San Lucas) to stack up on food, beers, purified water and other necessities that the ambulating food truck coming up there once a week won't supply. He only sells roasted organic chickens, avocados, eggs and mangoes, if they are in season. 

The most well known spots will gather less than a dozen people on a decent day. The typical pattern of glassy waves early in the morning / blown by 10 am remains true there. This leaves you 4 hours of great surf, from dawn to 105 degrees Fahrenheit. The afternoon surf is definitely an option, textured water, less people - if not empty, but still offering longer rides than any place on the East coast.

There is no world class wave here. There are better places to scout when Surfline announces a purple blob in the South Pacific. However, 300 yards rides, mellow crowds (aside from that old and grumpy American guy), empty beaches and the occasional barrel are not uncommon sights.

All images & words - © Julien Roubinet

Nicaragua Mission

Feeling like we needed work on our backside surfing earlier this year, Julien and I (both regular footers) decided to take a trip to the Pacific coast of Nicaragua with our friend Rory. "Nica" is known for fast, hollow beach-break lefts and, in the South at least, near-constant offshore winds. It would be the perfect training ground for New Jersey's heavy winter barrels and a refreshing break from wearing 5mm wetsuits. 

The dates set, we began watching reports in the South Pacific. An enormous storm promising seas of 55 ft+ would light up coastlines from Chile to Northern California, passing through Nicaragua just two days before we were set to arrive. More than we needed? Definitely. 

Having picked up a suitably rugged truck in Managua, we began our 10 day search for the perfect wave by heading to Salinas Grandes, a tiny village on the edge of a giant salt-flat, two hours North of the capital. We scored the tail end of the big swell which had flooded the hostel we stayed at the week before. Even the leftovers served us up a genuine baptism of fire, with sneaky set waves reaching almost double overhead and many un-makeable closeouts, most of which snuck up on us at extraordinary half-hour intervals. Predicting the carnage was impossible!

As the swell died down, we confirmed stories of a spot to the North, the Boom, which works better on smaller swells. The setup is a long beach with a series of diminishing A-frames working on sandbars close to the shore. No more long paddle outs and the promise of a morning of perfect glassy waves. 

After two hours of off-road driving and many wrong turns we turned up at Joe's Place, a gritty hostel buried in semi-jungle in the far North of the country. Over a late dinner in the damp, hot night air we encountered surfers who had literally abandoned their lives to surf this spot. Some had stayed there four months or even more. The atmosphere was eerie but exciting. We couldn't wait to hit the beach the next morning and get a taste. 

The Boom didn't disappoint, throwing fast, shoulder-high barrels in water so glassy the sets were almost invisible on the horizon. We enjoyed one of the best days of the trip, scoring a solid morning of fun waves and watching local rippers tearing up waves on seriously tore up old boards. 

Northern Nicaragua only blows offshore in the morning, so we decided to head South where the enormous inland lake, Lake Nicaragua, drives almost constant offshore winds, morning and night. We checked into a basic hostel in a small village called Popoyo, skirting the crowds and irksome private access at Nicaragua's famed Colorado's spot.  

Popoyo offers a number of different waves to suit various swells and conditions including an inner and outer reef, a sheltered wall-y left inside a long rock point at Mag Rock, hollow beach breaks in nearby Astillero and, the jewel in the crown of our trip, a seemingly endless left hand point called Lance's Left, accessible in the luxury of a boat or (as we did) a painful hike over a quarter mile of burning hot rocks which are exposed to scorching sunlight all day, followed by a long paddle out to the takeoff. It's worth every blister and aching shoulder - a perfect, wall-y left which worked like a charm on the final pulse of fresh swell which arrived on the last two days of the trip. 

Three boards and three bodies came and went in one piece. We found the lefts we needed, and then some, ate a ton of beans, rice and pancakes, and, most gladly of all we swapped wetsuits for board shorts just when New York's bitter Winter was delivering it's final cold breath. Score!