Murdock North Shore Update #1

We’re back in action ladies and gents! Please excuse the extreme lagging that’s been going on and let me assure you that the updates will be coming in mass quantities from now on! Fuck! Where do I start? 2009 is underway along with another season on the Rock! Even though the weather has been kind of weird this season, the waves have been much more consistent than the prior season. The end of October and all of November were sick! Good mid-size swells with decent conditions and minor crowds. Once December rolled around the weather started getting weird. There was a day in the second week of December that rained 13 inches! Although the weather was a bit out of control there were still waves to be had once the poop water cleaned up a bit. There was a day in between the Sunset and Pipe Triple Crown waiting period that was pretty all-time! Solid second reef pipe with a half dozen guys out. Timmy Hamilton, Murphy, Skipp, and Nelz were all on it scoring sick barrels with nobody out. I got some of my better waves of the year that day at Pipe. My chick and budding photographer Anna Riedel even got a sequence of Murphy getting this wedgy mutant wave.

I’ve been lucky enough to have some Pismo filth leak its way over to the North Shore this season. Frankie Robles lurked for a few weeks scoring all time Gas Chambers and Bick Yards. (I know the spelling is wrong on Backyards but I pronounce it “BICK yards”!) Red Dog Roldy has made his way over thanks to a roundtrip plane ticket that his chick scored him for Christmas! Unfortunately due to a dk accident back home Roldy’s been out of commission since his arrival! On a good note the 662 crew has a sick camera that they’re keen on letting Roldy use! Anthony Savoji, Rusty Friesen, Alex Leon and Andre Botha are holding it down for the 662 crew! When the waves are up, Roldy and me cruise over to the 662 house, round up the crew and check waves but usually surf somewhere no matter what! It’s amping to surf with all those guys because everyone pushes each other. On top of that Roldy’s catching all the shots from the beach and when you have video support it makes you go bigger! Roldy has already got a handful of footage in the last two weeks! Andre has some frame grabs posted on his site dreboy.com, which you have to check out regardless! Andre is super amped on the “Spacey” video support, along with everything else! The guy has energy like a fifteen year old and will get you psyching out in the water! Savoji and Andre are quite the characters! Good people to get weird with!!!!!

With two months left of solid winter swells the action will continue along with the anticipation for the Pipeline Pro! Oh yes I can not forget to mention that Brian Wise is back on the North Shore, sober, amped on sponging and ready to make a serious comeback!!! Statom will be arriving on the 15th of February so the North Shore coverage should be an everyday thing! Keep your eyes peeled for more updates, photos and some interviews of your favorite bodyboarders.

eat at joe’s

This weekends special was fresh elephant seal intestines, as a seasonal dish. Served marinated & sautéed in dominate male ichor, it’s oily, yet delicateness had even the french fine taste buds frothing, cross dressing and questioning their native tongue. The baby seal face was shocked as well, but indulging himself in cannibal like activities upon his return back from the rock, where the spam is served at room temp, or branch mill style, with a side of beneficial paddling peer pressure. The BSF’s stay at the Murdock colonial was quickly replaced by an academic redbeard on a sugar momma budget. With Señor Glock already reporting double stacked spam, Roldy’s four week stay will have him rejuvenated and capturing the goods. A giraffe kid was reaping nicotine cured tripe as well, with him and the french dusting off their erudition as classes began this week. Willie has been lurking with osos’ oldest hermano, ryan moore, collecting artifacts, droppin’ de knee and blasting full body gymnist inverts. Wilbur is holding it down solid, nursing young Aiden and feeding on PB & Crackberry sandos at Level. But a wiff of cookin’ Mirounga brought out some delinquent like speeding and sweaty bacon. But a chunk of pig is always an unpleasent appetizer(unless it’s your lard card), especially when there is seal on the grill. Gotta thank hoover for the FG’s, although he did miss the pinnacle of seal insides pillaging, bbq’d blubber and fly soup, but we can assume some sort sweet tooth festivities were the conclusion behind that…..

Links -

Camel Corral

A DUB has been killin’ it.

Notes from the Rock ‘n Roll Expressway Volume III

Asthmatic Giant! Tour Diary
By Darren Delmore

12/31/08 – Lompoc, California

A New Year’s Eve gig in the Santa Rita Hills? We couldn’t believe it. Opening up for Oysterhead in SF, maybe, but not a gig in the high end heartland of the ripest, dankest, Pinot Noir grown in the Golden State. Shlune confirmed via fax that Asthmatic Giant! would indeed be finishing up our Year of the Giant 2008 World Tour on a Grand Cru Chardonnay and Pinot Noir site for a private party. Someone saw us at the Troubadour and the word got out. The big news to us was that our bearded, devoted manager would not be there to toast away 2008, as he was obligated to a high stakes poker tourney on a yacht deep into international waters. “The fiscal future of the band depends on it,” he warned us. “I’ve got a big night, dude.” This left the Giant, yours truly, and roadie Pat Patten to pack up two tour vehicles on the morning of the 31st and head straight for J-Lama. We’d draw a cool five grand plus some merch sales from the show. Heinous Chanus’ rider demanded barbecue and mini-verticals of heavy hitting Pinot Noirs. Mine and Pat’s merely requested easy women. We were all out of keychain inhalers after the Hot Tokyo Nights! leg of the tour and were down to posters and the crotchless Asthmatic Giant! G-strings that were designed in Hossegor. The fluorescent ones blew out all across Asia and funded a major, mutual sashimi and Riesling fetish. Women proudly wore them to the next gig, and a visibly soiled pair was flung at the Giant’s face in Singapore as he twenty minute solo’d out on “El Corazón de Pete” with his eyes closed (or more likely unconscious).

Windswept Jalama Beach had provided much of the inspiration for our hit song “El Serpiente”, but after playing it 200 nights in a row around the world to full capacity crowds, we were losing focus. Widely reported in the tabloids, the band had angrily broken up in May, only to reform in August with an offer we couldn’t refuse. And now at the tail end of 2008, raw nerves were exposed once again. The Giant would only speak to me through his attorney, and I’d gotten wind of his talks with Michael Mann about producing his instrumental film score for an upcoming Al Pacino heist flick behind my back. All of this after making my life hell on our last show of our five night run in Quebec, when he fucked up mid synth solo on “The Upper Bench” and smashed the Yamaha in two, leaving me and my acoustic onstage with nothing but Neil Young’s “Rockin’ in the Free World” to cool the tempered, Canadian crowd.

We needed to get back to our roots. Back to the illicit rhythms and simple pleasures of our Irie Mondays era. Experiences. By the time our heels hit the warm rocks of Tarantulas reef and a chilled bottle of 100% Trebbiano was popped and poured into stemware on the rare 75 degree winter day, spirits were heightened and thirsts were quenched. We murmured our band’s prayer in an emotional huddle before hitting the icy waters for a surf. P. Patten conjured forth the spirit of George Greenough out there on the kelpy right hand reef pass, while H.C. kept it to the shallowest pockets. I played it cool on the shoulder and got some of the longer, lumpy ones. By sundown we were laughing at our luxury, and ready to once again bare our souls through broadcasted folktronica.

Then came the three car pile up. As my tour bus slowed to make the left hand turn across the oncoming lane on Highway 246, the stony L.E. followed suit and took a fifty degree blow from behind! The impact sent the chronic dust of P. Patten’s nearly rolled blunt to the wind. They in turn collided into the back of the tour bus, causing thousands of dollars in damage by erupting a case of 1989 Cristal and ejecting a crate of live Maine lobsters out onto the side of highway 246.

The Giant’s Ray Bans lay broken on the steering wheel. The new Yamaha mysteriously played an E minor organ note – unplugged – then caught fire. An instant Walgreens prescription for unlimited slammies materialized out of thin air in the Giant’s bloodstained palm, and he acknowledged the heaven sent miracle with a tooth cracked grin. A back injury from Pat’s days as a spandexed personal trainer in Cambria was rekindled. The man at fault’s engine spewed fluids onto the highway, flattened in half and immobile as cars roared past the scene at 65 miles per hour.

As all parties got out of their vehicles, there was a primal roar of some bull elephant seal or maybe an enraged Grizzly bear. We watched as the Giant ripped his thrashed bumper from the rear of the Element and heaved it across the highway. The family at fault cowered across the highway. I knew where this was going. I flashbacked to the fate of Tokyo Tony, the pimp and uppers dealer that failed to come through with H.C.’s Oxy purchase on our Japanese tour. We spotted him on his way into the raw bar we were chilling at after the gig, finishing a 17.1 percent alcohol Melville Viognier with blue fin and yellowtail plates. Now they call him Tony Pepperoni ’cause the Giant ripped the man’s nipples off in the back alley and they turned up crispy on a disturbed customer’s Domino’s pizza the next day. I’d never seen H.C. with the look of a lockjawed pitbull before.

As Babylon arrived on the scene of the accident, various Ziploc baggies went sailing off onto the roadsides. Even ground squirrels were chucking their shit. The reports were given. The Giant was given roadside I.V. sedation once the cops ran the check that mentioned how his fists were registered lethal weapons. Once the scene was diffused, we got word that the show would go on.

The 30 acre vineyard with its double wide trailer arena, outdoor space heaters and fire pits welcomed us with open arms. Burgundy Riedels were stuffed into our shaky hands. On the liquor table, a vertical of Clos Pepe running from 2005 to 2007 lay in waiting, as well as a vertical of Arcadian Pisoni Vineyard Pinot Noir from 2004-2005. Also represented: The La Vie 2005 Rasta Rita Pinot; three new Santa Rita Hills area releases from Loring Wine Company; the Cargasacchi wines; and Flying Goat’s “Goat Bubbles” sparkling . The vigneron himself Peter Cargasacchi was there, and he demanded that we try the bacon wrapped gopher that was on the outdoor grill. “There is no other meat that shows off terroir,” he added, and after grinding on the skewer of it, we had to agree.

Midnight. Fireside. Time to perform. We came on acoustic with “Cazadero”, then headed straight into the Dead’s “I Know You Rider” with our rhythm guitarist and guest fiddle player chiming in. The crowd went nuts for the stripped down sound. Without the usual technological luxuries at hand, the Giant’s God-given gift of percussion shined through, and for the first time in months, I noticed him smiling as he impeccably slapped on the bongos. Clos Pepe’s Wes Hagen came on as guest percussionist on “Dire Wolf”, as the audience was grooving to the Grateful. He and H.C. high-fived mid-simultaneous drum solo and then we roared back into it. By then the baked goods were well ingrained in Pat’s skull, and he went AWOL into the darkened Santa Rita Hills in search of a supernatural Ms. Right. The Giant and I shared a smiling nod as we pounded out “El Corazón de Pete” and a woman ripped her tank top off. Typical show. It was time to finish up 2008’s tour with a song that rocked the Toobs anniversary party back in March: Merle Haggard’s “Branded Man”. Absolutely killed it on that one, even without a screaming drunken Eskimo in attendance.

We packed up amid wails for “One more!”, and “Hot Tokyo Nights!” and decided to join the crowd for a 2003 Vintage Port before the new frosty blackness of 2009 set in.


13 Days of Christmas

With a work conference along the Central Coast slated for January 6th, I convinced my boss that he should give me an extended 13 day holiday away from San Diego to “work” from home until the nearby conference began. He surprisingly agreed. While I didn’t gather quite as much documentation as I would have liked, below is a little sprinkle of what life is like in the heart of the 805 during the height of winter.

12/26/08 – Framegrabs from a beachbreak just north of Pismo

Louie came out of the Grover City woodwork for this session and showed off his backside steez.


A perfect left and a perfect right both squandered by a young Baby Seal Pup.


Baby Seal Pup redeeming himself shortly after (left). Willie Richerson withstood the frigid water temps long enough to sample a few backlit bowls as well (right).


The swell was initially thought to be a little too small, a little too short period, and a little too north for this particular spot. Mr. Robles begged to differ.

12/31/08 – New Years Eve, Shell Beach

Don’t do drugs kids. Willie, Roldy, Briggidy (left). The morning after (right).

1/2/09 – Framegrabs from a beachbreak just south of Pismo

Roldan showed he still had a little Shaolin ninja in him on his return to the Central Coast.


It wasn’t epic but the conditions were right and Ryan Moore took full advantage.


“William, Bill for short.” Willie takes Brett’s incessant badgering to heart and gives a little extra push on this turn.


Red Dog drew out of this stylish snap directly into an inside bowl in what turned out to be the wave of the day.


Black Joe Buckets. Ryan Moore’s got some serious power on the knee.


Willie impressed me with his belly style antics on this trip. Riding the foamball.


Ryan Moore taking out Los Osos sewage controversy aggression on this little insider.


Snap. Carve. Tail. Roldie can juggle his entire repertoire on a single wave. Click for full size.

1/3/09 – Asthmatic Giant show, San Luis Obispo

Wine and music. Great minds think alike along the Central Coast.


Manager Schloonis showed up with the 2-for-1 double pack of Planters Peanuts and a quarter pound of Spicy Peppered Oberto Beef Jerky to accentuate the sugary residuals of Hellmore’s Home Blend. Buy this shirt now.


While the naysaying connoisseurs in attendance scoffed at the idea of blended guac, Delmore whipped up a masterpiece before our very eyes and won over our hearts and our stomachs. (Recipe withheld at Darren’s request.)


The lineup for the evening. Estery orgasm.


The Giant must stand! Years of waterpolo have reduced the Giant to standing-only performances.


The eerie film that seemed to loop on the inlaid tv set in the background coupled with Hellmore’s deep submergence into otherworldly distorter melodies was oddly surreal. Some audience members (back right) had to take a break from this reality with a little help from the vaporizer.


We thought the show had ended when in fact it had really just begun. Delmore’s switch to the keyboard led to an intoxicating finale that brought out a greater depth of AG than I had ever seen before.

teenagers from mars

If you haven’t noticed, Alex performed a little cyber surgery on the site for the new year ahead. We’re still working out a couple of bugs and we are in the process of adding a few more features, but have a look around for the time being. We’ve got plenty to come with blogs from Adam, Darren, and James to go along with a whole sheet of Etcetera goodies baking in the oven. Check out our first batch of empties here.

Adam arrived back on familiar soil recently just in time for some wintertime Cali action. Check what BGA tapped into last winter courtesy of JD Woosley here. Also, you’ll have to scope out Spain’s departing gift to BGA in Llanes. Speaking of Cali wintertime action, we’ve had a string of fun swells over the past month or so. Check the pics Camel sent us a while back from maxing SF here, here, and here. Look for some of the goodies the CC offered up shortly to come. Although the Isles have been in a bit of a slump since the Pipe Masters, Murder sent word of some classic early season North Shore days all documented by budding photographer Anna Riedel. Frank Robles got a taste of the action recently with a 10 day stint at Casa de 2Gloc. Things are looking up again with a rejuvenated jet stream and Roldan touching down to the North Shore in a few days time. He’ll be shacking up with James for nearly a month so look for updates and action to come.

A couple anecdotes we’ve forgotten to mention:
- Another sponger, Todd Glaser, recently won the Follow the Light memorial award (also check his blog)
- Willie’s gone berserk
- Urination
- Dug recently made a pilgrimage (via New Mexico and a Steven Seagal photo op) to the East Coast and is now residing there
- Ben Player Project looks stupid good
- New Lore Line out now

Link of the Week: Trent Mitchell Photography.