bob’s biggest boy

I openly discredited the whispers of his demise with disdain in front of the others. But when alone I secretly worried that the rumors were true. Had Roldan really hit rock bottom? They said he resembled the Ghost of PFC Past while hobbling up to the Grover City Vons Coinstar on a gimp foot with his greasy off-color polo. Too many chowder breadbowls. Too many fried catfish and Sprites. Too many nights in the New Room. And too many Portuguese holidays. Somewhere along the line he went south. And fast. No sightings. No calls. No red.

When my inbox erupted recently I knew he was back. The Chanus claims on the message board only heightened my relief. The foot was healed and the phone was back up and ringing. Alas, the Werewolves segment would not end abruptly after the 2nd chorus. RB’s, LT’s, and LGF’s would be revived. Shit even girls were crying to him on his voice mail like the days of old. The Pismo balance of power had been restored.

Lucky for us the resurrected Roldy is armed with a mini digi. Check the carnage he’s documented lately while cruising with Ralphy, Chanus and company:

On one of the first swells of the fall Brett finally strapped on a 2nd fin for the first time in ages and got behind the other side of a lens where Cale Moore was waiting to capture the goods.


What could have been his last snap. The day I thought he retired 10 months prior:

Look for plenty more to come from Cale and Brett this winter.

Links of the Week:
Murdock gets his due in the newest online issue of Crysis. While on the subject of Roldan, here’s a quick little excerpt. Check page 50 of the link for James’ full interview and page 57 for his Bluntcuts ad:
How was that one big night with Dre, Savagey, and Roldan? How did Brett acquire the nickname Spacey?
The definition of weirdness! We got our hands on some mind altering items and decided to take ‘em! We chilled at Dre and Savoji’s place at Rocky Point, listening to music while chiefing moles and cigarettes. Andre and Savoji were getting weird with their art and Roldy and myself were just observing. It would take twenty pages of text to explain everything that went down that night. Between Andre’s claims of going to bed every five minutes and Savoji just being Savoji, Roldy and myself were paralyzed with laughter. Savoji found these sunglasses that were on the table and Roldy started rocking them. With his nicely trimmed beard and perfect fitting golf hat, Roldy was Kevin Spacey’s double. Savoji struggled for about a minute trying to put his finger on the resemblance and finally gave the Spacey shout out. I definitely willl never forget that trip with those guys, All-Time!

– These guys just keep coming out with cool shit. The Mini-Winny BOOM! EP1 & EP2

LORE dropping more hammers with their new line. Support these guys!

Murdock Early Season Hawaii Update

The 09-10 winter is officially underway! The very active typhoon season that’s been pounding southeast Asia has spun a couple of typhoons into the northern Pacific swell track! We had a late September/early October swell light up Pipe and we just got done with another fatty Pipe swell for Halloween! I’ll get back to the Pipe action in a bit but first I must mention the fact that Rockies/Chambers has been firing for the last two months! This place is comparable to one of California’s best beach breaks, minus the occasional dry reef section, and breaks almost everyday during wintertime! It’s got it all; lefts, rights, ramps, barrels you name it, the whole enchilada! I consider it a bodyboarder’s training ground for the heavier waves like Pipe, Backdoor and OTW. It kind of blows my mind that more boogies aren’t out there getting weird. I’ve been clocking in some major water time out there with the infamous “Dan Duo”. These boys got a killer little pad right in front of Rockies and keep me posted on the waves 24/7 style! I’ll throw up a few pics of some Rockies nugzz!

Last Sunday was, as Caldwell says, “game on” for the Banzai! Solid 12ft+ with the occasional second and third reef scud! Stewart, Tamega, Alistair, Skipp and Hubb were all making their presence felt! Timmy and Pyper made their way over from da outer islands to get some of the action! Murphy has also started his Hawaii campaign and was able to get a few early morning bombs! I didn’t get out super early and probably should have because it was even less crowded than mid morning when I paddled out. I scrapped a couple insiders right off the bat but they were shitty and didn’t hit the reef right. I waited for about 15-20 minutes after I got those two shitty ones before I got my next wave! It was this weird backdoor double up, the thing was bending so hard but looked makeable. I scratched for it and was stuck at the top for a while but was able to scoop without air dropping. Once I got to the bottom and finished my scoop I came to a stop with almost no speed off of my scoop! Fucker barreled so hard and I made a spastic attempt to duck out the back, which was unsuccessful. I got sucked and fucked real good! Hit the bottom like I just jumped off a roof but luckily it was fins first! I popped up uninjured and amping on the fact that I didn’t get hurt! I went to grab my boogie and the fucker was broke in half at the elbows and the stringer was poking out. I couldn’t believe it, my baby was done. I got lit up by a couple more set waves and made my way in so I could get another boogie. Had to grab the backup board that is buckled down the middle but has a stringer in it so it’s still rideable at big Pipe. I paddled back out and was able to get a few on that scrapper board! I think I saw pretty much everyone who was out get a bomb. Stewart was sitting like a mile out catching some scuds all the way in to Gums! Alistair was surfing borderline Off the Wall, plucking off some deep ones. Timmy got a monster, maybe the heaviest wave of the day and Pyper scored a massive froth monster barrel.

The most memorable thing from that whole day was this wipeout I saw when I was paddling back out. I saw this boogie scratching super hard for this bomb that was just growing as it came into first reef. It wasn’t letting the guy get down the face cuz it was growing so fast. Then I just saw homeboy do a full summersault down the face of this massive Pipe beast! It looked so fucking bad from my angle because I saw him get picked up from the bottom and sucked over! I was like holy shit, this fucker could be dead! It turns out that the victim was none other than Dan Dorn my homey from Rockies! He said he barely made it to the beach and puked as soon as he hit land! Shit was next level, homeboy is lucky to be alive!

Well that’s a wrap to the opening action for the North Shore 09/10 season. Mind blowing that it is going to be 2010! Seems like time is going by faster every year that I get older! That’s why you must make the most out of everyday, because you never know when your plug is going to be pulled! A couple last words: Much respect to my girlfriend who is possibly the best female photog who’s shooting bodyboarders and definitely the hottest! My dog, “the dog” Koa had to undergo some major back surgery recently but is recovering and going really good. Much respect and thanks to my parents for saving my babies life, without the operation he would have been paralyzed!


The other Dan on a clean one.

A heads-up call from the Dan Duo and Murdock’s out there blasting within minutes.

Stewart with a signature air forward at Pipe.

James on “the one”. Not too shabby for an old, busted boogie.

Stewart navigated this bowl from its inception at 2nd reef all the way through to Gums.

Al doing some serious R&D work for Science.

Timmy careering into a Banzai beast.

Pyper picking up right where he left off after struggling with injuries last season.

Dan projectile vomited on the beach after this incident.

Rummy Nights, Groundhog Daze – Mexico 2009

The Wave by Louie Robles
Our first look at the ocean was almost hypnotic after our long travels. But that was nothing compared to what we were to wake up to the next day, “perfecto” DOH uncrowded vomiting monsters. I mean…the thickest chunkiest projectile vomits with literally not one person out. I think Wonka was the first one to get in the water. After watching him battle a furious current we knew where not to paddle out. Everyone was getting sick ones. Alex was just blasting through barrels like a camel, Wonka was dropping in to monsters like a pelican, baby seal was doing what baby seals do and suicide Joe, just…the name says it all.


The Crew by Joe Statom
Waiting in line at LAX, I’m starting to get amped for Mexico. Not only because of the swell forecast, but also because of the crew that we had assembled for the trip. I see three guys walk into the airport with huge, overstuffed board bags on their backs. Louie, Willie, and Frankie: DKers straight from the dropknee hotbed of Pismo Beach. Yes! The time is approaching! Me and the other two brothers Camel were also in on the action. Here’s a quick rundown of the crew:

Louie “Salt-tooth” Robles was ripping the first couple days of the trip until a set wave lipped him and a knee injury forced him into permanent cameraman duties. His habit of putting salt on everything he ate was very influential upon the whole group. I now have become addicted to salt-covered ice cubes.

Willie “Perfecto” Richerson’s fluent Spanish and apt use of the word “perfecto” whenever possible saved us many times from almost certain death. His early win streak in our nightly rummy games led to marked cards and extremely high tension. He also recently earned his second straight photo atop the rookiesusa home page which is no small feat.

Frank “Down Syndrome Stretchy Pants Elephant Seal Baby” Robles is quickly earning a reputation as the newest edition to the Pismo Dropknee Parthenon. Although his Spanish skills won’t be turning any heads, his bodyboarding skills will.

Alex “Robot-Foot” Statom’s feet began amassing duct tape, puss, and pepperonis at such an alarming rate that by the end of the trip, there were many who weren’t entirely sure if he was human or a cyborg sent from the future to kill us all. He also scored more barrels than anyone not named Harry Hop-Up Henderson.

Nick “College Kid” Statom had to fly in a couple days later than the rest of us after about a month of hanging with notorious Rookie James Murdock and doing research for Scripps in Hawaii. Even though he claimed to be rusty after his surf hiatus, it was clear that he was still at the top of his game.


The Deck by Alex Statom

Upon exiting the airplane we were blasted with a wall of tropical heat and humidity that immediately put all sweat glands on overdrive. Luckily the acclimation only took a few hours and by the time we reached our final destination we had embraced the salt and grease that would steadily accumulate throughout the trip. Soon the filth was looked upon as a badge of honor. Showers were looked at in disdain, shaving was blasphemy, and putting on a new tee was cause for insult and mockery.

Our home base was all you could ask for on a Mexico trip. All frivolous luxuries were washed away and we were left with the bare essentials of surf travel. No TV, no fridge, 3 worn mattresses, and a sketchy shower/shitter combo were all just afterthoughts to the main attraction: a big second story deck with some old lawn furniture and the best view $40 dollars a night can buy. For the second consecutive trip we had scored the best room around with a 180 degree view of the offshore spitting peaks just a hundred yards away. After finishing a surf it was the perfect place to come in and claim your best barrels, describe your worst thrashings, cackle at each others blown waves, or heckle the Stepoff Stans outrunning barrels in the distance. And once the afternoon surf session and dinner scrappage were complete, the deck transformed into the home for our evening entertainment. Frank brought a mini speaker system for his iPod and it provided a classic rock soundtrack to our increasingly intense rummy games. Corona megas were slammed into our bellies and occasionally onto the ground. Tensions mounted as Willie’s win streak continued and his inflated ego chaffed at ol’ Lou’s hide. Luckily, confrontation was avoided as Willie hit a well-timed cold streak and his relentless heckling finally came to an end.

Sure the surf was insane, the adventures into town and up into the mountains were fun, and our big night out at Club Glass was literally a blur. But for me the deck was the essence of this trip. With your cards in one hand and your Mega in the other, spitting sunflower seeds on the ground while talking trash to the other shady characters around the table as perfect beachbreak tubes crashed in the dark just a stones throw away… you can’t ask for much more from a Mex trip.


The Culture by Willie Richerson

The Drunken Troubadour
Everyone on the bus sat silent, waiting for him to get up or at least move. Louie, Frank and I wondered if the drunken old man had died as he fell into the aisle, his head contacting metal with a loud crack. He had sung a heartfelt song at our breakfast table just minutes before. We had tipped him enough to get a bottle of coke to accompany his tequila. Did we really hear his final song?

Slowly his legs stretched out and two men helped him to his feet. He mumbled something as thanks and immediately he began strumming his guitar and belting out the same song he had played for us earlier. A great recovery, but not a single person tipped him and he stumbled off the bus into the scorching mid-day sun.

The Biting Fish
The local bus station dumps you straight into the central market where you can get an epic meal for under two bucks, some sweet new clothes, or a big raw chunk of beef or pork, unrefrigerated.

One afternoon we took three separate buses, past the giant cement factory, to a natural spring called Los Amiales. The water was clean and clear, and felt great in the mid-afternoon heat. All of the sudden Alex let out a girly shriek when something began biting at his ankles. The round wounds from his fins looked like small pepperoni, an inviting snack for the small hungry fish.

Besides the surf, riding the public buses, windows wide open, catching glimpses of the simple lifestyle enjoyed by these smiling people, makes any trip to Mexico feel like a true vacation.



The Nightlife by Nick Statom
Well, there was the weekly Tuesday techno bizarro bonfire with the world’s best vegan ski teams getting extra enthused about their tow partners just a stones throw from our suite balcony. But we resisted the urge to partake despite persistent growls from the Gremlin. Instead we opted for plan B: surf our brains out all week while keeping it mellow during after hours in hopes of an XXL night on the town come Friday.

That’s not to say that the simple pleasuries of dinner at Tsunami followed by Corona Megas, fistfuls of sunflower seeds, and roust-fueled rummy games was a depriving affair in the interim. In fact, this option became a rather welcome routine throughout our stay and five simple ground rules became readily apparent after the first night: (1) DO NOT drop your Mega, (2) DO NOT leave an oversized discard pile for Willie to pick up, (3) Roust the fuck out of Willie if he picks up said pile, (4) Wear bug spray – lots of it, and (5) Keep the iPod jams rolling at all times. Such refreshingly simple forms of entertainment were not a bad way to break up the long, humid nights and relax while recounting another days’ pumping surf with five of your closest amigos.

When Friday did finally come we did not forget. Transportation plans to our nighttime destination of Glass were made days in advance. Megas and bottles of Jimador were purchased. Appropriate clothing for the club was tracked down. Local girls were enlisted. Pepperonis were concealed. We were ready, Freddy Got Fingered style.

The two hour transit huddled in the bed of Edgar’s truck wouldn’t kill our buzz. Neither would the tropical deluge that struck around the halfway point. Nope, a week’s worth of buildup and a potent Squirt/Jimador combo carried us onward, and carried us directly to the doorstep of Glass in a drenched, dazed Pismo heap.

Unfortunately the insides of Glass didn’t quite live up to our collective hype. There was no dancefloor, a crowd that was a little too posh for our filthy third world expectations, a cover and pricey bottle service. But we had turned that corner long ago and went right to work nonetheless.

Alex peaked way too early and we propped him up on various pieces of lounge furniture a la Weekend at Bernie’s to avoid getting 86’d. Joe didn’t need any propping to find himself double fisting local scenery with his suicidal tendencies. Louie wasted no time in establishing a pseudo dance floor within our own growing entourage with some spectacularly unexpected Grover City house party moves. Willie delighted and charmed the locals with his perfecto Spanish; Frank’s lack thereof made for some classic one liners. Frothing in unbeknown territory, the Pismo sum outweighed the individuals on hand as we fed off the distinct personalities of our posse and let loose until the wee hours.

The Food by Frank Robles
The grub in Mexico was too legit to quit to say the least. Eggs and bacon for breakfast, tortas for lunch, then topping it off with chicken tacos for dinner I meeeean fuuuck it was heaven. There would be multiple smoothies taken down each day by the crew which now have taken a special place in my heart.

Fortunately no sorry soul was struck with the crypto creep on the trip, just some pretty heavy morning tequila shits after a couple long nights of getting weird. There was one particular night that the crew took a big roll of the dice by taking down some pretty sketchy tacos on the way back from Colima. I thought for sure one of us was going to be wounded in the morning after those tacos but our shit stayed solid. Mexico was insane so many memories and good times, I am sure we will all be going back soon for round two.

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