etcetera de mexico

Now almost a year past, here are some final pics from last September’s Mexico expedition. This should be enough eye candy to get you pumped for your upcoming summer adventures.

Camel’s second set of eyelids sure came in handy.

Before the knee popped, Louie was feeling no pain.

Two shady options to choose from.

Wonka poised and ready to pounce.

That ski in the corner could mean that there’s one very lucky Hop-Up-Harry deep inside that dark green pit.

Somebody order a pizza?

Rummy & Modelo afternoon interlude.

Willie helicoptering through a clean green machine.

Braving the midday heat offered great rewards.

The water temps may differ between SF and Mex, but the barrel stays the same. Camel knowing right where to be.

Table for two, anyone?

Richerson standing tall in the morning light.

Local grom in an envious situation.

Robles stylin’ under the curtain.

A little patience can go a long way at this Mexican beachbreak.

Not a bad place to be. Wonka setting up.

The half-thumb made him do it.

Alex punching through a frothy end section.

The man, the myth, and our ride to Glass. Edgar.

Another empty churning down the line.

Down syndrome elephant seal pup stretching one out on the knee.

Willie bringing the energy.

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.

* * * * * * * Mas Fotos * * * * * * *


An Australian Postcard


So I just got back about a week ago from an amazing 18 day trip to Australia and I already can’t wait to go back. About 3 months ago my friend David Schaub and I decided to go to Australia. We made the 14 hour journey over on the 22nd of May with no directions and no idea of where to find spots or what kind of swell to look for. We landed on the 24th and picked up our horrid, purple-flowered, thief magnet of a van after being told by the company owner that there was a 70% chance of break-in or collision. We took our chances anyway and headed straight away southbound from Sydney in search of waves. After two days of searching and driving we found boogie heaven. Nobody out and 4-6 foot. We surfed the spot for three days straight after randomly meeting up with fellow mainlanders Matt Meyer, Nick Ostrovsky, and Randy Holzmann. We also met some local groms named Riley Conlon, age 20, and Ryan Sewell, age 15. They were just two of the many rippers around the area.

After three days the swell started dying and the rain set in so we headed back north. We checked around three other cities but didn’t find much of anything, the swell just wasn’t big enough. For the next few days we surfed a mellow beach break, went wine tasting, attended a Riptide video premiere, bargain hunted and found shelter from the rain. We finally had enough of the town life and headed back south to our original stomping grounds. For the next two days we surfed perfect waves, 4-7 foot and light crowds. If California ever looked like a typical day here there would be 500 guys on it. We spent all day surfing about a mile away from the nearest car, building fires, crapping in the woods and staving off the incessant rain. David, Matt, Nick and Randy all scored a super session in the late afternoon with nobody out. Probably saw more airs that one day than I have all of my life back in California. The next few days just poured down rain all day, so we headed back to the nearest town. We all split up and David and I were really blessed when a random family took us in for two days while it pissed down rain. They took us out to dinner for pizza, made us beds in a fire heated room and cooked us meals. They also took us out to pet wild kangaroos.

Eventually the skies finally parted and somehow we all met back up again and headed back to the same spot as before. We got back to find it smaller than it had been with Dave Winchester and Spencer Skipper riding it. All I can really say is Dave Winchester is insane in person; he was boosting the biggest and most perfect airs on every wave. It was amazing, simply amazing. We ended up staying there until our last two days of the trip before heading back to Sydney. Overall we had an epic adventure, although we didn’t surf many different waves and continuously got rained out. In fact our only two days of nothing but sun were in Sydney, but in the end it was completely worth all the hassle. I highly recommend that all bodyboarders make the trek over at least once in their life as it is nothing but a boogie paradise. So now I am back in California, back to my 60 hour week and already planning my next trip. Until next time be sure to check out for all the goods.


Chris Allen

David 30 minutes into his first session.

Ryan Sewel age 15.

Matt going huge in the early morning light.

Randy nailed about three of these back to back to back.

Ostrovsky striking the Iron Man pose.

Taming the local wildlife.

Dave Winchester full rotation. Nuts.

End bowl forward by Spencer Skipper.

Spacey North Shore Murdock Video Support

Back in January of 2009 the Central Coast’s own Brett Roldan landed on the Rock thanks to a very generous donation from his gf. Unfortunately for Roldan, he suffered a season-ending foot injury just prior to departure on a Black Joe’s inside dumper. But the trip would not be completely fruitless. With some of the best swells of the season on tap during his tenure, 662 rolled out their camera and let Reddy work his magic behind the lens. Cracking tall cans and working the zoom on the HD setup seemed almost natural for “Spacey”, a name that shook loose and has stuck indefinitely after a big night out with Andre Botha and Anthony Savoji. Below is some of the evidence with Murdock as the subject. Check for further footy.

2009 Pipeline Pro (Framegrabs)

Chris Wilson on a smoker out the back during this Round 6 heat. He went down to Max Arent and Dave Crowley in this heat.

Maximizing shade time is key for rangas. Brad Hughes locking in to a smaller shapely insider.

A big set putting an end to Joe Clarke’s 2009 Pipeline Pro campaign.

Dubb throwing down the prone skills at Backdoor in route to taking out Andre Botha.

Pipe was showing her all during the afternoon hours of Day 2. Diego Cabrera on an inside smoker.

Cabrera backing up the previous barrel with one of the best maneuvers of the contest in his Round 7 heat.

Andre Botha with the Lore support. Super techy guru shit. Wave selection haunted the South African.

Dubb’s double barrel flying-out-sideways Pipe wave from hell. This one ended Botha’s ’09 campaign.

Kainoa embracing the ’09 LMNOP DK Pro winner Bud Miyamoto. His crouching tiger skills ruined all the competition.

A west bowl goes by unridden during the afternoon of Day 2.

Finalists Winchester, Costes, and Hardy amping in anticipation on the beach pre-heat.

The missing link. Cro magnon Garth McGregor had one of the highest single heat scores of the event in Round 7.

John Showell on an inside dredger. It would not be enough as he lost out to an in form Dave Crowley and a barrel dwelling Kainoa McGee.

Oompa Loompa doompadee doo, I’ve got another puzzle for you. Grodzen stoked on making the final of the LMNOP Pro DK.

Hardy opened up his semi final heat with this super sized Backdoor vert right at the buzzer. That would be all he needed in the wave-starved heat.

Hardy celebrating properly in the shorebreak after the win and showing off his new assortment of sponsors.

Ivan Hernandez on a nice inside bowl during the last heat of Round 7. The Canary Islands representation was strong this year.

Hernandez backing it up with a sweet look back barrel to advance him into the final day of competition.

Max Arent came out smoking in Round 6 with bowls like this. His campaign ended in Round 7 against the Euro contingent.

Nitch Rawlins scrapped through a tough Round 7 heat with McGregor, edging out fellow countryman Joe Clarke and saffa Sasha Specker.

Josh Garner’s noni fruit consumption was not enough to put him past a resurgent Alistair Taylor and a semi-injured Brad Hughes.

Novy looked to follow last year’s clutch Pipe performance as he dominated this Round 7 heat. After another good showing in Round 8, he would later bow out in the quarters.

Pierre Louis Costes in the finals tossing an invert that wouldn’t even enter his final wave tally. We haven’t heard the last from him.

The post-Day 2 convergence on Pipe was a spectacle. PBen Player rotating one during the free surf.

PLC’s fearless invert at Backdoor in the finale put the pressure on Hardy and the other finalists.

Corner pocket bowl looking very enticing for the Australian upstart Joe Clarke.

Germy Wright amped on his ’09 campaign.

Empty Day 2 spitter.

Tamega invert in the semis. Should it have been BPlayer in this frame?

Al Taylor trademark roll. He has me convinced on the leg leash.

Toby Player made a valiant effort from the depths of Round 2 to a narrow loss in the quarters. He literally squeezed out of this solid barrel in Round 7.

Maximus Decimus Meridius going for a next level rollo.

You can never count out Uncle. Kainoa getting slotted on his way to the final day of competition.

Final Day whale breach out the back.

Post-whale reverse air from Winchester in the semis. Winny looked very solid in the quarters and semis on his way to a 4th place finish.

Maximus Decimus pulling into a solid closeout to close out Day 2.