Their young spirits splash about in the line-up with no fear. A dumpster of twelve-year-old trash talk pretending not to see mom up to her knees in shore break waving them in like a guy the with orange glow cones taxiing your next flight. The two-foot waves are pit high and their skinny 60 lb bodies go screaming by like sunburnt corndogs. They have respect from the older crew in the line-up just because they are so f%#king happy, cheering them on feels like a duty. They can’t back down knowing their peers are watching, it’s game time, and when they make a big drop or land a floater that high pitch squeals shatter the ocean surface. Stay frosty young groms, stay frosty!
This is a link to my blog when I was starting out, discovering how things worked in this industry, some of my early adventures, great people, and hard work. All building blocks, it’s a fun read. There was is a gap of a few years, think that’s due to Instgra and the dark days of the blog.