Pedal to the FLO

"Quintal's cross-country journey on his way to winning his second consecutive Duct Tape Invitational."

So You Want To Ride Your Motorcycle Around The World

You’d think this would be easy to explain. You’re interested in “adventure motorcycling,” some of that ‘travel the world with only what you can carry’ stuff that everyone in the motorcycle industry is talking about. You want to explore the unknown aboard your bike - camping, cooking and living ‘the Good Life’ along the way. But what kind of “stuff” is essential? A motorcycle, yes, but what else will you need to start exploring? Well we’re here to help, offering you - the entry level adventure motorcycle enthusiast - an easy guide to the gear, gadgets and other accouterments you’ll need to get going.

Candied Yams

"Thanksgiving brought Taylor Nelson back to the mainland and straight into some classic California surf."

Nick Maimone

Nick Maimone is a San Francisco shaper who was born in New Jersey in the late eighties. Nick's family was the adventurous sort, who inspired him to stay outside. Before Nick was born, his parents lived in Redondo Beach, where his father pursued professional diving and underwater photography. "Whether it be frozen (snow) or in its liquid form, we were in it. Sometimes knee deep, sometimes consuming us whole."

As Nick grew older, his appreciation for the ocean and art lead him to focus on geometry and physics in school. "I wasn't really interested in other classes and judging from my grades they weren't too interested in me either." Following high school, Nick attended the University of the Arts in Philadelphia where he earned his BFA in Sculpture. In the process Nick "... had the opportunity to develop not only my hands-on and process oriented skill sets, but my conceptual and philosophical mind. I came out of college with experience in welding, blacksmithing, carpentry, painting, sculpture, philosophy, casting metals, printmaking, and everything in between."

Following his formal art education, Nick moved across the country, settling in San Francisco where he re-discovered his passion for the ocean and began shaping his own sticks. After building boards for himself and a handful of friends, Nick launched Our Daily Shred, the name under which he hand shapes an assortment of surfboards. After following Nick on Instagram for the last year, I decided to send him a couple questions in hopes of learning more about both his boards and his (new) business.

Maître Gims

What I've been listening to lately...

PLAYDATE

Robin Falxa surfing a new 9'2" Crème model shaped by Robin Kegel in La Côte des Basques.

Crossing Baja After Hours

The trip computer on my GPS told me that we had less than 45 minutes until the sun set. We had departed Catavina (a desolate town in the middle of what can only be described as a desert oasis) earlier that afternoon. We were looking forward to a few days in yet another isolated area, this time on the eastern side of the Baja peninsula. However, what awaited us was beyond anything we might have imaged. With less than an hour to plan and execute our escape, Kyra, my father and I mulled over our options, stopped for fuel and hit the highway headed inland… again.

Let's Go Home...

"A different kind of life in the Philippines for Carla Rowland." Shot and edited by our friend, Ian Zamora.

Dust Bowl to Pleasure Dome

Beautiful bit of film featuring Mick Rodgers, shot and edited by Soren Heil.

ICON 1000 Elsinore Boots

I fell for ICON’s Elsinore Boots the moment I set eyes on them. They were in a photograph that Justin had shown me on Facebook, modeled by his friend and ICON press-rider, Alicia (aka MotoLady). It was less "love affair" than "mild obsession," but I couldn't imagine getting back on a bike without those boots. At the time, we were living in Los Angeles and owning motorcycles without a parking spot didn't make sense. I would have to wait a couple more months before riding was even possible, so I put any thoughts of owning a pair of ICON's on the back-burner. However, I can't say I didn't spend moments checking out pictures and reviews online until that time… Did I mention that this was an obsession? Days and weeks passed. Soon, the idea was born to embark upon an adventure through Baja - aptly named WESTx1000 - on dual-sport motorcycles to witness the 47th annual Baja 1000. This developed the need for appropriate riding gear. Immediately, my thoughts were the ICON 1000 line (accompanied by a devilish grin). Cue: Elsinore. At Last!

Hullway 101

Hulls, bowls and other odd things at the 'Queen of the Coast.' Brought to you by The Surfer's Journal.

Facelifts & Furtherance

We recently updated the ‪#‎WESTx1000‬ website! Check out the articles (and images) published on Gizmodo, Expedition Portal and ADV Pulse, as well as some additional info about our adventure.

Dedicated to the Craft - Matt Chojnacki

Stefan José and McTavish Surfboards highlight the life of contemporary loggin' legend, Matt Chojnacki.

Two Outta Three

We returned to Washington the last week of June. The day we departed Los Angeles I woke up early, ate toast and drank coffee, then dropped Kyra off at dance school before heading north toward Malibu. I surfed for a few hours, packed my board back into the van and drove into Los Angeles for the last time. That evening, after Kyra's long awaited showcase, we loaded a few things we'd left lying around, said our goodbyes to Stella, Ryan and his adorable daughter, Ella, and then hopped onto Highway 101 headed north toward Washington.

I suspected that that morning at Malibu would be the last time I surfed for awhile, but I had no idea just how long I'd have to wait. It was bittersweet. Weeks passed, and while I heard rumor of waves and weekday surf sessions, we were in the midst of planning a motorcycle trip to Mexico, which left little time (or money) for weekends without wheels. I went once, maybe a month ago, and caught a small swell and offshore winds. We surfed into the early evening. I can't believe it had been two months since I sat atop a surfboard!

It's odd, the fear that comes from not doing something you're good at. Afraid you'll forget, I suppose. And then the next thing you know... it's as if you never missed a moment. A pig beneath me, paddling over wind scraped swells, dropping slowly into something, taking a step from the stern, increasing speed, then back to the tail, nose up and she'll come around. Honestly, it had been more than a few months since I surfed the swine, having spent most of my mornings at Malibu aboard my BNLW. So that Monday was special, even if the waves weren't. And so was last weekend. I'm looking forward to a few more before Baja.

CJ Down Under

CJ Nelson testing South Coast Surfboards' new Noserider somewhere in OZ. Found on Foam Symmetry.

Off-Road Inspiration

Kyra wrote an article for ADV Pulse about how to inspire your wife or girlfriend to go on an off-road motorcycle adventure. All of the images were shot by Laura Murphy and myself during our recent twenty-day, twelve hundred mile trip around the Pacific Northwest. Click here to read what Kyra wrote.

Fluctus Splitters

Trailer for a forthcoming 40 minute film shot entirely with Super 8mm. (via Longboard Retro Days)

Twelve Hundred in Twenty - Part Two

I could say all sorts of stuff about these images. I could write endlessly about our twelve hundred mile, twenty day motorcycle trip around the Pacific Northwest. About the food and the friends, the sun and the sand (dunes) we saw along the way. But honestly, I think these images speak for themselves. From long nights on Lummi Island to "castles" along Washington's north coast, our trip was eye opening, exhausting and incredible. We learned a lot and experienced everything we ought to. Stay tuned for an article on Expedition Portal penned by Kyra. In the mean time, enjoy the images and comment if you care to.

The Californians

Check out this trailer for Jamie Budge's classic surf flick, "The Californians." Makes me miss Malibu...

Twelve Hundred in Twenty - Part One

I've been thinking about ratios a lot recently. Work versus reward and whatnot. I was born at the end of an era; when film was still how people took pictures. My mother had this old Kodak 110 camera that I remember using when I was a kid. It flipped open and made a very distinct sound when you pushed the little plastic square to take a photograph. And the rolls of film themselves looked rather weird, if I remember correctly. It was an entry point, but also an end. I think I owned one other film camera that wasn't disposable - an old Olympus that my father gave me for Christmas. After that it all went to hell.

My first digital camera was bright yellow, cost $99 and shot only eight images at a time. A few years later I upgraded to a point-and-shoot with single digit megapixels, followed by another with even more megapixels (!), and then my first DSLR sometime in the early 2000's. The ability to take hundreds of photos with no consequence - to shoot, adjust, and then shoot some more was appealing. And easy.

So for the last decade I have shot almost exclusively with some kind of digital image capturing device. A few years ago, however, my uncle gave me a 35mm Pentax K1000 camera that had belonged to my grandmother. It looked cool. The way I'd imagined cameras in my mind - hanging around some photo journalists neck in a war-torn country on the other side of the earth. So it sat on my bookshelf as an ornament of sorts, something that made me feel like a photographer. What a bunch of bullshit. But then maybe a month ago I picked it up, processed the roll of film that had sat inside for seven years, loaded a fresh one and turned down a road I may never return from.

All of that to say, when Kyra and I decided to depart on a three week motorcycle adventure which took us from Seattle to Portland, Pacific City to Astoria, Neah Bay to Lummi Island and then back to Seattle, the only thing I brought with me was five rolls of film. The fist half of the photos I managed to shoot while we were away can be seen below.

1964

Beautiful bit of film shot by Mike Bromley featuring Dean Petty. Brought to you by Bing Surfboards.

Spring Sessions

Worm, also know as Erin Ashley, is a Seal Beach surfer with a style and grace few can compose. She's funny, full of life, and one of the most interesting people Chris and I met on our #peelgrimage from Seattle to Southern California. While parked at Camp Pendelton for the better part of two weeks, Chris and I surfed with Worm more times than I can count. When the winds blew offshore and the high school kids crowded the lineup for a few hours after school. When Church was choppy. When it wasn't. When everyone else was surfing the easy rolling right, Worm went left. When we suggested she surf a pig, she did. When we went north, and Malibu was empty in the morning. When we went south, and surfed near the sand cliffs of Cardiff. She was always good to go. Always up for it. And so when we started looking through the footage we'd shot during our two month adventure, Erin was ever present. So this short bit of film, produced by Pursuit of the Arbitrary, is the first of many from our #peelgrimage project.

Out of Office

Well, hello! What's that? You're wondering what the fuck happened here? Where have we been, why aren't we surfing water waves and whatnot? Well, here's a little 'Out of Office' reply: Justin and Kyra have been traveling by motorbike for the last few weeks, exploring the Pacific Northwest from Cape Lookout to Lummi Island. They will be unreachable by phone, fax and electronic mail for the next few days. If you'd like to leave them a message, please click here. Otherwise, stay tuned for additional images and words of wisdom upon their return to some sort of city.

In Search of Dean Petty

Dean Petty surfing Cow Bay, Nova Scotia. Shot by Kealan Shilling on Kodak Tri-X Super 8.

Extending the Economy

About two weeks ago, Kyra and I installed an assortment of stuff on the two Yamaha XT225's we'll explore Baja aboard at the end of October. With the help of my friend and former co-worker, Eric, we removed the 2.3 gallon factory fuel tank and installed a 4.1 gallon Clarke Racing unit in its place. We then upgraded the skid plate to something a bit thicker, installed stainless-steel rear racks and a pair of hand guards on each XT. We also changed the oil and filters, having added 800+ miles to our odometers the week prior. Aside from luggage, which we'll install a little later, our bikes are ready for anything Baja will throw our way... or so we hope. Follow the link for a few photos.

Lola

Lola Mignot sliding some smooth stuff in mainland Mexico. Brought to you by Bing Surfboards.

Baja Bound

Before we leave for Baja at the end of October, Kyra and I have a lot of logistics, equipment and other shit to sort out. A month in Mexico aboard small dual-sports is no easy feat, and so in an effort to organize our accessories I put together a different sort of duds - one absent of surfing stuff. I'm sure some of you would love to give me shit since I haven't been surfing this summer, but all this Baja business is taking up a lot of my time and energy, and to be honest, it's been rather nice not worrying about waves. Because dirt bikes are always awesome, and they certainly won't skunk you on a Sunday. It's a different addiction, no doubt - petrol replacing peelers - but it's been beneficial, not spending my weekends searching for surf, allowing other activities to occupy a similar space. So with that said, take a look at some of the stuff we'll be taking with us on our #WESTx1000 adventure.

Salty Habit

James, Lola and Mick surfing a south swell near San Diego. Brought to you by Bing Surfboards.

Fresh Film

Maybe five or six years ago, my uncle gave me a Pentax K1000 35mm film camera that belonged to my grandmother. Entirely unaware of how to use the thing, I took it to a friend who showed me how to load (and unload) film, adjust aperture, shutter speed, etc. The first seven or eight frames were shot in and around my father's apartment, when I still drove a Mustang and managed a motorsport blog. The next few frames were taken at my apartment on Alki, when famed automotive photographer, Linhbergh, was staying with us for the weekend. The remaining frames were shot within the last few months, somewhere near Seattle. Honestly, there's nothing special about any of these images, aside from the fact that they prove film is far more interesting than any other photographic medium, especially the prosumer products you see in the hands of just about every housewife.

South Swell

Alex Knost surfing an early summer swell in Southern California. Shot and edited by Matt Grote.

An Off-Road Entrance Exam

I was apprehensive. In nearly two years of riding - six-months of which I spent bike-free in Los Angeles - I (shamefully?) never slid through gravel or trek up a steep, narrow, dusty dirt trail. So I hope there’s an understanding why, upon hearing the game plan for the weekend, my sphincter wound up tighter than a nun in church. Unbeknownst to my comrades of course... You can’t show fear or you don’t get invited to the fun!

The first day, as recorded in my last entry, was slippery and hot and left me bruised and exhilarated. Grass covered fields pose their own difficulties, but none that shake me all that much. Little did I know, day two turned out to be a long, sun-beaten drive with endless corkscrews and pop-up straightaways that brought me from 20 to 65 miles-per-hour. The latter occurring more when I’d try to catch up. It was beautiful, it was challenging (enough), it was quick, but still, it was paved.

The third day. This was the day I’d been waiting for. All the other days leading up were just preliminary. This was the day my boyfriend would either confirm his endless confidence in me, or develop in him a silent anxiety about the 120 pound weight he’d be carrying if I “crashed and burned,” so-to-speak. But riding gravel and eventually riding soft packed dirt wasn’t what I expected!

California Dreaming

In the midst of Britain’s stormy winter, James Parry escapes to the sunnier side of the pond.

WESTx1000

At the end of October, Kyra and I will embark upon an epic motorcycle-meets-surf adventure. The idea is to ride a pair of dual-sport motorcycles from Long Beach to La Paz and back, more than 1,000 miles each way. Our goal is to witness the start of the 47th Tecate SCORE Baja 1000, which will take place on November 12th in Ensenada, before riding south toward Scorpion Bay... and beyond! Our adventure will be featured in Overland Journal and SLIDE Magazine, as well as on Indefinitely Wild and Expedition Portal. A short film, edited by Pursuit of the Arbitrary, will highlight our experience, in addition to long-form editorial and photo features which I will produce.

Once we return to the United States, we'll curate a collection of images which will be displayed in Caffé Vita coffee shops up and down the west coast, as well as a debut at Deus Ex Machina in Venice, CA. The intention of our trip - other than the adventure of it all - is to utilize small displacement dual-sport motorcycles to explore the Baja peninsula; searching for surf, camping along the coast, eating interesting things and meeting extraordinary people along the way. We'll take advantage of any opportunity to ride off-road, avoiding highways and overpopulated areas at all costs. We'll carry only the essentials, eat and drink only what we can afford, and travel as fast (or slow) as we feel like.

This is neither the first nor the last time someone traveled south to surf, but I feel we'll be able to add a little excitement to what is already sure to be an interesting adventure - riding small displacement motorcycles more than 2,000 miles to witness one of the most spectacular motorsport events on earth, the Baja 1000.

WESTx1000 is brought to you by Caffé Vita Coffee Roasting, Wolfman Luggage, ICON 1000, Topo Designs and Tellason Denim. Take a look at our Tagboard for additional info.

Double-Sesh

James Parry aboard his Bing 'California Square Tail' in Encinitas. (via Longboard Retro Days)

From the Phone - Vol.7

Southern California to Seattle... These last few weeks have been playing at a pace I'm somewhat unfamiliar with. Fast Forward. A few days in the dusty butthole of Eastern Washington, riding motorcycles near Leavenworth, hiking and camping along the coast, laying low on Lummi Island. I finally have time to reflect on what has happened, however. To look through my phone and post a few photos. Because as much as I enjoy shooting with a proper camera, I find myself not looking through a lens, but instead at a screen - Instagram, etc. It's a window into someone's world. A way to see what was important. Not food photos, or drunk nights at a dive bar - one shouldn't give a shit about such things - instead what I offer are images from a life spent living in and out of a van, surfing, camping, cooking and riding my recently acquired motorcycle. So with that said, follow the link for some of the latest photos 'From the Phone.'

The Involvement Dream

Patagonia Ambassador, Belinda Baggs, sliding a surfboard designed in 1968 by Wayne Lynch.

The 2014 Touratech Rally

I just spent three days riding and camping while on my way back to Seattle from sunny Southern California. The weather couldn't have been better - blue skies, a touch of rain to keep the dust down and kinda cold in the evenings. The occasion? Touratech's annual adventure rally, an event that brings together off-road riders from all corners of the country, offering them an opportunity to ride some of the best roads, trails and terrain in the Pacific Northwest. Follow the link for a few photos.

Expensive Porno Movie

Check out the trailer for this 45 minute experimental surf film shot entirely on Super 16.

Akela Surf's Zebra Dress

I’ll admit, at first I was skeptical of Akela Surf’s Zebra Dress: the material, the shape, the stripes. These were qualities a bit unfamiliar to me. I’m a petite lady, meaning loose fitting, thick strapped items tend to display me on the “frumpier” side. It was only on a surf trip to Malibu that I understood what had been missing from my life.

Triangularly cut with wide arms, a crew neck and, yes, thick straps made the dress incredibly easy to put on and off. This could be a feature completely overlooked by the average vested woman, but to an avid nature dweller, ease is as important as comfort - which it was just that. Covered in sand 'n salt and sticky from sweat, I had no problems slipping on my Akela dress to slip -more like peel- my wet suit off. I typically opt for a towel which can be cumbersome and precarious. The dress however gave me plenty of room, kept me modest and draped me stylishly. Best of all, because of the thinner (bathing suit?) material I was hardly concerned about getting my dress wet. It warms and dries on a quick stroll in the sun to your post-surf gelato.

Goin' Right in Sri Lanka

Our buddy, Banjo McLachlan, surfing a few fun (warm) waves somewhere in Sri Lanka.

(L)ater (A)lligators

Los Angeles was interesting. Sort of like an assortment of mismatched socks. You like them each individually, but together they really won't work. At odds. Now, I'm not saying you can't take a few fuck-it-all pills and rock said assorted socks, I'm just suggesting that sometimes you want things (your feet in this analogy) to look - and feel - a certain way. And so LA... where everyone's an actor and dreams go to die, can be similar to both the conservative gold-toe socks (all business, who cares for comfort) and also the Surfing Santa Claus socks Steve and Fran bought me for Christmas (works that week, not really applicable all year). It can be a place where incredible things happen. Surprising things. Big business deals and talk of television shows. It can also be a place where you can become complacent. Sun, surf, decent drinks, alright eateries... Why leave LA? But now, having escaped it's golden grip, it seems all too easy. All too obvious. And I yearn for more. More Malibu. More rooftop BBQ'in. More late nights in an odd apartment. More tacos. More Thai food. More Monday nights at Little Dom's. More Monkey Glands at the Alcove. More Chet Baker with breakfast. More of so many things... But I'll be back. Sooner than expected, I suppose. But I won't let LA do what I know it wants to do - grab hold and never let go. I'll escape, often. But I'll be eager to go back. Because it's an epicenter, and at this point it's what I want, or maybe what I need.

Lola In The Neighborhood

Lola Mignot enjoys a sunny San Diego morning with Mick Rodgers. Brought to you by Bing.

Mistake Making

Perhaps like a lot of people, I am haunted by my mistakes. The choices, be them good or bad, that have defined who I am at this moment. Accelerating when I ought to slow down, avoiding the inevitable, or not stopping when I should. It’s a rough road. And sometimes you need to be certain you have the right type of tires. Instead, I push down on the pedal – automotive references abound. “Driving fast on empty streets,” as Dr. Thompson once said, “with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested.” I’ll pay my penance. Wish I wouldn’t have, or whatever.

But then I wake up each morning, unable to recall what kept me up most of that evening, and make myself a cup of coffee. Unbeknownst. Its noon before I remember what was wrong... what is wrong. That thing I didn’t need to do. That comment I may have made. Retraction! My mistake. Perhaps I shouldn’t have... And yet I continue, making the same moves, saying the same sorta shit. Lesson: not learned. So how do I remedy my insatiable desire for idiotic endeavors, massive mistakes and countless poor choices? Start from scratch? No. One must always remember their roots. Look back on the bad and prevent it from happening henceforth.

So, what the fuck am I talking about? I can’t say for certain. Perhaps simply that I am at one of those big Y’s in the road, where either direction may, er, will lead to something substantial, or something sad. An example: my father has a friend that he’s known for years, who on his first patrol in Vietnam came to a fork in the road, literally. He went left. Ten feet forward and he had stepped on a booby trap that blew half his ass off, LITERALLY. He was sent home shortly thereafter. And life went on, but certainly not the same.

I’ve heard that story more times than I can count, and I suppose it has played a rather important role in how I make decisions. You see, either direction leads to the inevitable. Be it good, or bad. Fate? No, that’s not my sorta sauce. More like luck. Some people get it good, while others, well, others are fucked from the start. And so when it comes to making mistakes, the kind that will haunt me from here on out, I suppose I am not sure how to stop myself from making more. But they say realizing you have a problem is the first step to fixing it... So I suppose you should wish me luck?

Too Many Mahalos

Hudson Ritchie surfboarding water hills and skateboarding swimming pools in somewhere in So-Cal.

Mike Black's Math Lab

An article I wrote regarding Mike Black's "Math Lab" is currently featured on Slide Magazine!

Click here to see the full feature.

The Moments - 9ft & Single

The first of many short films shot during Deus Ex Machina's fourth annual '9ft & Single' festival.

Morning Wood

I pull into the parking lot, pay the guy at the gate and then find a spot for Fargo. Most mornings are a mess. Weekday, weekend, holiday, who knows. The crowd is always out there. Increasing exponentially as the day drags on. My earliest experiences were awkward. Where do I wait? How deep should I sit? Can I drop in on this kid? He looks like he knows what he's doing... Wait... No! He doesn't. Dammit!

High tide keeps the kelp from fucking with your fin, and also offers a fun inside section, where you can get waves if you wait. I slide my board out the back, slip into a short suit and walk down to the beach by myself. I knew no one those first few weeks. Surfing solo. I watched the old guys on the end snag some of that 'low and slow' stuff. And then a set would show up. Three, maybe four if we were lucky. Everyone at attention! Some people share. Some get upset.

This place gets a bad rap. Crowded with kooks, angry assholes and grumpy old guys. Sure some of that is true, but if you're willing to accept that you - like everyone else - is there for the same reason, it becomes better. Bearable. Dare I say... Fun?! Like Alex Swanson said to me in Seattle at the end of last summer, "I don't know why everyone gets so upset, we're all just playing in the ocean." Too true.

And so after a few months of surfing Malibu in the morning, I'd like to reflect on all the fun I've had, the waves I've caught and the people I've met. From Joel Tudor and Kassia Meador, to that old guy from Indiana, and the eye surgeon from San Clemente (who did not suck at surfing). Good people. Good times. I will also miss my morning routine: peanut butter toast, two Oreos, a cup of Cuban coffee and the 45 minute drive from Los Feliz to the lagoon. I'll even miss the mayhem. Sharing a wave with four or five people, dodging tourists, or blocking boards. And the ones I had on my own.... They were few and far between, tis true, but better than just about anything, or anywhere else. I'll be back, 'Bu. Promise.

So Cal Daze

Jared Mell surfing some of his favorite spots in So-Cal. As seen on Longboard Retro Days.

Andy Wauman

I inadvertently met Andy Wauman one morning at Malibu. He was surfing the inside section on a rather interesting piece of equipment. A stick that was shaped while he was living in Indonesia shooting a short film. I'm not sure how it all happened - Andy and I exchanging our information - all I know is that by the end of that afternoon we were standing on the sand sharing stories and discussing the aformentioned film he'd recently finished for Deus Ex Machina.

Andy was born in Belgium. His artistic life began with painting, however, according to Jack Taylor "his fascination for language steered him towards other mediums of expression." Since escaping Antwerp, Andy has spent the last ten years traveling the world "on a personal artistic exploration." Andy’s solo exhibitions have been displayed in galleries all over the world, including Europe, the United States and Asia. Gutterdust, his alias, is a creative outlet which covers his work in the field of analogue photography, film and sculpture.

Since our initial encounter, Andy and I have become thick as thieves - surfing Malibu in the mornings, eating tacos in the afternoon and shooting photos for an upcoming adventure I intend to embark upon at the end of October. So, before Andy left Los Angeles, I sat down and asked him a couple of questions...

by the water

Beautiful bit of film featuring Alessandro Ponzanelli. Brought to you by Bing Surfboards.

What Awaits

This is difficult to do. Harder than you might imagine. But it has to happen. You see, this blog has been a place for me to share my stories. Photos and a few words from weekends spent searching for surf, camping and cooking, drinking way too much whiskey and sleeping in the mildly modified cargo van Karissa called Fargo. Three years. Every weekend. From Friday evenings on the ferry to Sunday mornings surfing bullshit because it'd be another week till we saw the water again.

She was with me every weekend. My wife. She drove, I rode. She cooked, I consumed. We took turns taking photos - standing on the shore in our wetsuits, operating the camera with frozen fingers. We had our issues, like a lot of young couples. Arguing at times. Frustrated with our future, or perhaps our past? But in the end we all reflect on what was, as well as what could have been. Better? Almost certainly. Bad? Not at all. But things have happened. Unfortunate things. And so I float solo, kicking my feet and keeping my head above water. Because in the end, this is still a place for me to share my stories, both the good and the bad.

And as unfortunate as this certainly seems, I'd like to look back at this blog and reflect on everything that happened ahead of all this - those cold nights in the cargo van, cooking over a campfire, sampling ciders, watching Futurama on an iPad when there weren't any waves, scaring gas thieving meth-heads with my Glock, eating dinner at Angel's, wearing wet wetsuits, complaining about the cold, finding secret spots and enjoying the company of all the kooks we call friends. It was wonderful. But it's over. So here's to what awaits.

Knost Split

Short bit of film featuring Alex Knost. Shot and edited by Jack Coleman for Mollusk Surf Shop.

Lessons in the Lab

The more time I spend with Mike, the more I realize he's experiencing the true state of Stoke. The fully immersed. All the way out there. He's disconnected in one way, and yet completely hooked in another. He works during the week and surfs on Saturdays, which can suck, but somehow stays Stoked. He doesn't let the little things sour his mood. He moves on. He picks a pig. And when it too big to slide the swine, he pulls out his piglet, puts on a pair of fins and gets fully shacked at the San Clemente pier. We showed up late to The Lab this particular night. I wasn't sure if he'd be up for an evening. Boy was I wrong. We drank plenty of IPAs, played 'Siete' - that goddamn game I couldn't recall a couple of weeks ago - listened to Slayer (on repeat) and entertained the animals. It was an epic evening. Unlike the last, and yet somehow very similar. Perhaps because Mike is magic and his Stoke is kinda contagious.

Sherman

What I've been listening to lately...

EPICSLIDE III - Harvesting Stoke

To celebrate the three year internet anniversary of the Peanut Butter Coast, our friends at Stoke Harvester are producing this limited edition shirt they've dubbed EPICSLIDE: III.

"Here's to three years spent searching for surf, camping on the coast, cooking with cast iron, drinking whiskey when there aren't waves, wearing warm wetsuits when there are, missing work on Monday, and eating plenty of peanut butter."

Click here and pre-order your shirt to ensure they get printed. BLAST IT!

La Derecha

Alessandro Ponzanelli, James Parry and Mick Rodgers surfing an early Spring swell in So-Cal.

From the Phone - Vol.6

These last few weeks have been rather wild. Living in Los Angeles, I've been surfing Malibu in the mornings, spending my weekends in San Clemente, drinking beer with Mike Black, eating chicken and waffles at Roscoe's, filming, photographing, and little bit of everything in between. They tried to tow Fargo the Cargo Van, I watched a dude drowned, have had plenty of Pizza Port, one too many margaritas and am getting sorta sick on living inland. Like I've said so many times before, though, the sweet wouldn't be as sweet without the sour. And so, due in part to my lack of time and energy, I give you the latest selection of cell phone shots, some of which you may have seen on our Instagram.

Arramon-Tucco in Australia

Margaux Arramon-Tucoo surfing somewhere in Australia. Shot and edited by Nathan Oldfield.

Southern Summer

Sounds like I'll be spending the summer in Southern California. Maybe Malibu, or somewhere near San Clemente. Surf is certain, but so are long afternoons spent sitting inside, making money with my Macintosh. And so for the latest edition of #duds, I've decided to include a few indoor essentials - coffee from my part of the country, some bad ass blues, beer that'll make you feel like it's Friday and a briefcase-turned-backpack so you can make that money come Monday. Follow the link for a list.

Activate Primal Back Foot

Another strange bit of film featuring Mike Black. Shot and edited by Pursuit of the Arbitrary.

Peanut Butter Pictures on Expedition Portal

"Surfing in the Pacific Northwest requires commitment, time, money, a reliable rig, good gear and a willingness to explore. To become a successful surfer, however, only requires one thing - waves. And so in my quest to become better, to become a good surfer, not just an alright one, I have spent countless days driving to and from the west coast of Washington, sleeping in my converted cargo van, searching for surf."

Click here to see our full photo feature.

Bob Ross

I think this short bit of film from our #peelgrimage project will speak for itself. Produced by POA.

Tales from the Tropicana

Overindulgence: the action or fact of having too much of something enjoyable. Also: excessive gratification of a person's wishes. Sounds like my Saturday. I mean, it was my birthday after all. And what better way to celebrate the end of eight and the start of nine than renting a room at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel?! It may not be a good idea to discuss the details of the day, but lets just say that shit got a little wild. One too many mango margaritas, inflatable Orca Whales, espresso martinis, steak-frites, old fashioned's in The Library, top-floor tomfoolery and pizza well past my bedtime. It was an excellent afternoon. The kind that could kill you. But in a good way. Get it?

Two Days in Hawaii

Flomotion member, Justin Quintal, spent a couple days in Hawaii harvesting some serious stoke!

Smokestack Lightnin'

What I've been listening to lately...

Mornings with Mike

The sound of big white knuckles knocking on a window awoke me. I peeled my face from my pillow and peered out the side window of the van, which faced west toward the water. It was dark. Not even the slightest sign of sun. Chris was standing outside the van. "You awake," he hollered. "Kinda sorta," I said from inside my sleeping bag. "Gimme a few minutes and I'll be good to go." We had made arrangements to meet Mike, also known as Gnar Gnar, at the Carl's Jr. near the trail to Trestles... at 5am. Mike is a math teacher and this was a weekday. Maybe a Monday. So we had a small slice of time to shoot something before Mr.Black had to teach trigonometry. I slipped into a pair of pants, pulled on a wool sweater, a brimmed hat, flip-flops and climbed outta the van. We loaded the truck with camera equipment and headed toward the hamburger stand.

You'd think that a mid-week(?) morning would be kinda quiet, maybe ten or twelve people. Wrong. This is Southern California, kid. Everyone is waiting for waves. Eager and up early. We parked behind a line of cars and unpacked. Mike drove past in the Midnight Creeper, parked and pulled out his pig. We hiked the trail together, talking about his board the entire time. A blue panel pig with no name, Mike's board is a mystery. Matt Calvani and Jim Phillips both ran their hands along the rails and couldn't come up with anything. Some kind of secret. When we walked beneath the train trestle and over a sand dune to see the surf, we were greeted by wind swept waves that stood up, fluttered and fell - rolling right with a great deal of gumption. It was glorious. We filmed and photographed while Mike mined some stoke. A damn fine way to spend a weekday. Follow the link for more photos.

Operator

Robin Kegel surfing a Gato Heroi Operator somewhere in AUS(?). Brought to you by Wild Things.

Surf-A-Pig's 4th Annual Pig Luau

Surf-A-Pig's 4th Annual Pig Luau will take place in between trails five and six on the San Onofre Bluffs, from June 27th through June 29th. There'll be a pretty big pig (served mid-day on the 28th), lots of logs and plenty of interesting people. So if you're in the area, sneak down to San-O and join us for a few days of swine, surf and shenanigans. Click here for photos from last year's luau.

Nine Ten Stepdeck

Joe Davies surfing a 9'10 Stepdeck made by Tudor Surfboards somewhere near San Diego.

Left of Center

Meet me in the middle. Somewhere south of center. To the left a little. We're all alright. Doing the same damn thing. Trying hard to stand out in an activity that rewards no one, for nothing. You think you've got it good. You think you're a solid surfer. And then you head south. You surf a spot with consistent waves, where people skip a session, where the wind will keep you outta the water. It opens eyes. Exposes the obvious. Teenage girls hanging ten. Man, you sure suck. Look at those ladies! Reality is so bittersweet. It tastes like a fistful of limes. Sour and yet satisfying. Because at the end of the afternoon you realize none of it really matters. You're Stoked. So who gives a fuck what everyone else can attest to. Maybe you're mediocre. Maybe you're somewhere in the middle. At least you aren't an asshole.

Mr. Rodgers

Our friend Mick Rodgers surfing his signature stick, the Mr.Rodgers Model, near Encinitas, CA.

Eddie Bauer's 1936 Model Skyliner Jacket

It had hung in the closet my entire life. A baby-shit-brown puffy coat from the late eighties. My old man's. Something he had worn in the winter, when snow settled across Seattle, or when we'd drive east into the mountains to find some fun. I thought nothing of it initially. A warm coat. When I was in high school, however, I started to steal it. It was a bit big and smelled a little musty from all the years it had spent in our apartment. But it was warm as fuck and made me feel like a man. Like my old man. Years passed and I moved on to other apparel, other outerwear.

But it was always there, hanging in his hallway closet, waiting to be worn when the weather was the worst. Fast forward a few more years and my friend Shawn, who was working for Eddie Bauer at the time, asked if I was interested in any of their outdoor gear. I browsed around a bit, sorting through their extensive inventory, but found only a few things I was interested in, namely this remake of their 1936 Skyliner Jacket, the same coat my father had purchased prior to my arrival on earth.

Featuring their signature diamond quilting, which holds the down insulation in place, Eddie Bauer's 1936 Skyliner Jacket features a rugged cotton/nylon shell, StormRepel durable water-repellent (DWR) finish, 550-fill Premium Goose Down insulation and the same fit and finish as the coat my father owns. Available in both Saddle Brown and Black, the jacket retails for $199 and is an excellent alternative to all those ultra-premium, "I climb Everest," lightweight, bright-colored puffy coats everyone wears.

Worm

A (very) short bit of film featuring our friend, Erin 'Worm' Ashley. Brought to you by Hayley Gordon.

Who Is Tyler Hatzikian

A look at the life and times of Tyler Hatzikian. Brought to you by Matix Clothing.

The Tale of Ten Thousand Tacos

You fuel the machine. Add the appropriate ingredients. A Breakfast burrito. An Iced Americano. Maybe a Morning Glory muffin, or some kind of soup or salad. But sometimes the machine requires things it ought not to. Rye whiskey. Pizza with jalapeño peppers. Ice cream in the afternoon. Overindulgence. You get the idea. You do it too. So stop looking at me like that! Yes, this is my second slice. Go fuck yourself! All of those inappropriate ingredients, however, have an ill effect on how well the machine works. How well the machine surfs. Etc. Living on beer and pizza for a few weeks will leave you feeling like fuck. Your heart heavy, stomach stretched. Dehydrated and discombobulated. A different type of tired. You'll sleep later than you should. You'll skip the sunrise session. You'll search for excuses. Because living on the road isn't for everyone. It requires a rather unhealthy amount of alcohol and ice cream sandwiches... No, that's not true. That's just what happens when two dudes decide to spend six weeks driving up and down the California coast searching for surf. Two dudes who have a similarly small amount of self control. Who say 'yes' when they should really say 'no.' But what fun comes from avoiding everything that seems inappropriate? What experiences are you obviating when you go to bed before midnight, when you eat just two tacos instead of eight, when you turn the music down and order plain pizza?! Live a little. Just don't die. Yet.

Click here to see all of our #peelgrimage posts.

Noosa Festival Fourteen

Fantastic bit of film from our friends at Foam Symmetry highlighting the 2014 Noosa Festival.

Forty Four

Corey Colapinto surfing the new model 44, built by Christian Wach at Canvas Surfboards.

El Co.

I have a rather unhealthy obsession with late-seventies and early-eighties El Caminos. Piles of shit as far as most people are concerned. Almost always underpowered (and ugly?), this iteration of Chevrolet's truck-car-combo featured an abundance of silly chrome strips, cheap plastic pieces and uncomfortable cloth interiors. And yet, I love them. There's this fantasy that plays in my mind at night, when I can't sleep and craigslist is all to accessible... I'm driving downtown, the dark city streets lit by lanterns and the ambient glow of all-night eateries. In the bed of my all-black 1979 El Camino is some type of two-stroke dirt bike, just begging to be kicked over, to make everyone mad. Smokey burnouts and wild fuck-off wheelies in the midst of the Great American Gold Rush. Internet nerds peering over the top of their MacBook Pros from the controlled quiet of their coffee shops, feeling both envious and unsettled at the same time. "Who is this crazy bastard, clearly disobeying the laws of our subdued city?!" A fantasy, yes, but one within reach. I've already got a cookie jar full of coins, ready to pay the impending infractions.

The Witching Hour

Steven McLean surfing toward sunset. Brought to you by Longboard Retro Days.

From the Phone - Vol.5

I've gone back and forth about cameras and overpriced image capturing equipment. Stumbling around with tripods, filters, lenses, et al. I love the color and clarity they can capture, the consistency and the confusion. And yet I find myself, like a lot of people I presume, not carrying a camera, but instead relying on a device that is my all-in-one, work from the road, Skype your friend Steve in Albania, email your mom in Arizona, take silly pictures and, on occasion, talk with words not letters. That said, during my six week long #peelgrimage to Southern California, I shot an odd assortment of images, some of which you may have already seen on Instagram, others I've kept quiet. Follow the link and take a look.

The Robert Harold

Beau Young riding the 'Robert Harold,' a log inspired by boards his father rode in the mid-sixties.

Surfer Saltado

Here's the fourth episode of Justin Quintal's four part Peru series. Filmed and edited by Drew Miller.

Music & Me

What I've been listening to lately...

No City in Sight

The road, it rules. Steering your wheels, aimed somewhere south. Searching for some kind of conclusion, an answer to that question you can’t quite ask. Fuel moves fast. The tank full and you feel free. Options are endless. You look ahead; a long stretch of pavement, at the end is another side of yourself. A new edition, modified by your experiences. You talk about The Timeline. From a distance it seems straight, but the closer you look the greater each experience, each action becomes increasingly more important.

Ups and downs. Like a heart monitor at the hospital. You push on the pedal. Time travels. The plateau passes. As the sun begins to set you see a city at some distance. Tall, dark towers. Smoke stacks and skyscrapers. Etc. An ever important part of the process. Producing. Reproducing. Consuming.

You find a place to park.

If you wondered what matters most, that thing that’ll wake you up from some kind of drug or alcohol induced delirium, you need look no further than the peeling waves of the Pacific. The sound of surf. Waves crashing over round rock. It’ll take everything in you. You’ll pull your face from that pink sparkle pillow that your mom made you. You’ll put pants on. A shirt. You’ll climb out of the van and rub your eyes, your brain trying to bang its way out the back. The sun shines. Bright, with big shadows stretched across the parking lot pavement. You’ll wear a wetsuit. You’ll stumble over the stones.

You paddle your Pig.

The first one won’t work. Tired. Alcohol still in your system. A fuzzy spot in front of your face. An hour will pass and then, like a dial turned to ten, you’ll connect. Section with section, lines across the face, trimming, tip-toeing toward the tip. Words you’ve used to describe your experiences once or twice - wasted words. As this experience, this blip on your terminal timeline, will disappear into the distance, just as the road rolls on endlessly at times. With no city in sight.

Hatzikian & Howard

The guys at IFILMSURF put together this short clip featuring Tyler Hatzikian and Devon Howard.

The Bing Surf Shop

After nearly two years of planning, Royce Cansler, in conjunction with Matt and Margaret Calvani, has opened the new Bing Surf Shop in Leucadia, CA. Located along the Pacific Coast Highway, a stone’s throw from Beacon’s, the new shop is a surfboard showroom that highlights the wide variety of shapes, shirts and other equipment that Bing has to offer. Inside the shop you'll find all kinds of eye candy, from Pucks and Ravens, to Silver Spoons and the new Mr. Rodgers Model. Clothing, eyewear and apparel is kept to a minimum, allowing the shop to focus on what Bing does best, building beautiful surfing boards. Follow the link for some more photos of their new surf shop.

On Suicide

"I do not think that life should be so sought after that it is prolonged by every possible means. Whoever you are who holds this view, death is no less certain for you, even though you may have protracted your existence through foul practices or sin. Therefore let every man remember that there is no greater comfort for the soul than this, namely that of all the bounty bestowed on man by Nature, nothing is better than a timely death; and the greatest blessing is that each man can accomplish this for himself."

- Gaius Plinius Secundus

The Lab

Passionate pursuits.... What drives a man? You might ask Mike. He seems to be fueled by fire, or perhaps Pliny the Elder. He's someone I hold in high regard, set atop some kind of surfing-meets-science pedestal floating above a slow peeling left hand point break - pig perfect. He's a math teacher, a father, a friend. He surfs pigs, shoots long riffles, enjoys an IPA and is an integral part of this project, as well as the progression of my surfing. To tell you the entire tale would take too long, and honestly, it'd be best told above a beer. But with that being said, I think it's important to shed some light on 'The Lab.'

Nestled in a Cookie Cutter, White Picket Fence, Mom Yoga type neighborhood, The Lab takes up two-thirds of what was once a two-car garage - the other third occupied by an assortment of princess paraphernalia and a fifteen foot long, eight foot tall chalk board, upon which Mike does math. And doodles. Four pigs are perched on the wall to your left as you enter; three other boards occupy the space above a small desk on the opposite wall.

Art, items, words of wisdom and an eclectic mix of things known and unknown are scattered around the room. An octopus light sits on the desk, one eye covered by a beer cap. Paintings of pigs and people surfing pigs hang in the free spaces between boards, while a meteorite that Mike found as a kid hangs from the garage door opening device. Eclectic is an understatement.

We downed a brown bottle of Ballast Point and then plotted our search for Pliny the Elder, a much sought after IPA. Tom, Mike's old mate, came through the back door with wonderful news: the pretentious pizza place down the street (no idea the name) had Pliny on tap, for a limited time. Onward!

One dog, one daughter, four dudes... eager for an IPA, and some tiny corndogs. We ate cumquats from a tall tree in the parking lot before taking the first table within our reach. An odd bunch, undoubtedly. The little lady took photos with her toy ATM while Tom ordered a round (unfortunately our hostess felled the first four). One turned to three. Conversation ensued. By the time we paid for our Pliny, all three of us were feeling the effect. We wandered back to the The Lab.

Here's where things got good...

There was this game - I can't remember the name - it involved a metal loop attached to some string that hung from the ceiling, a hook in the tool closet across the room, and a long sheet of paper upon which Mike had written the rules. Something about a pirate, or a man who'd lost three fingers? I can't be certain. We swung the circle. "MISSFIRE!" must be called before the pendulum swings past half. Ten tries. An abacus at either end to keep track of how many times you've looped the hook, or whatever.

Tom cooked chicken. Which we ate. Stuffing our faces and licking our fingers. We sat in a circle and consumed a custom Rice Krispie, after which we all lost our minds. Or so it seemed. Then Mike took down a well read copy of Natural History written by our famous beer brother, Gaius Plinius Secundus. He read from within; ideas, inspiration, the seemingly obvious, something about suicide and then, after a few hours, and perhaps additional IPAs (?), the part which Mike felt was most important: "God is man helping men. This is the way to everything glory."

JJAZZ

JJ Wessels surfing somewhere in Southern California. Shot and edited by Michael Kew.

The Peelgrimage: Part Five

We been parked at Camp Pendelton for more than a week now. A stones throw from Churches. The weather, as with so much of Southern California, has been wonderful. Good and glassy when you get up, windy in the afternoon, alright in the evening. We've had decent days, riding waves that wrap their way around, trimming, tip toeing, twinkling. We've had early evenings; nights spent sitting at Starbucks, working on all sorts of shit. We've also had the pleasure of harvesting stoke with the likes of Alex Swanson, Joel Tudor (!) Erin Ashley and a handful of high school kids that were laying down some serious log-sense. It's been interesting, to say the least. Here's a few photos.

Margaux + Merced River

Beautiful bit of film featuring Margaux Arramon-Tucoo surfing Biarritz sometime last spring.

The Peelgrimage: Part Four

Internet friends are funny. Because of a common connection, you know almost everything about them - from where they work and what they do for fun, to where they've traveled, the friends they keep close and more often than not, what they eat everyday. So when you sit down for dinner with a table full of internet friends you've never met, not in person anyways, it's interesting how easy it can be. Conversations come naturally, as you already know what sort stuff they're into. You ask a couple of questions, and then fill in the gaps that Facebook or Instagram haven't been able to harvest.

You drink wine and beer and eat potato tacos and explain Elephant Ears to the uninitiated. You laugh. You tell surfing stories. And then, at the end of the night, you part ways better friends than you were before. Because the internet, in all its glory, cannot replace a dinner served on a long wood table outside someone's house in Ojai, a stones throw from the Los Padres National Forest. And those experiences, those people, are what make a trip like this worth while.

The next chapter, however, involves a top secret surprise, surfing a cove in a rather upscale community, excessive whiskey consumption, a place called Beverlywood, a pit bull puppy named Kurt, a BBQ with the Eastside Moto Babes, Venice Beach and our eventual escape from the shit show that is Los Angeles. Stay tuned. The Peelgrimage continues.

Cats In Oz

Enjoy forty-two minutes of slip sliding, nose riding nonsense, shot in Australia by SEAKONG.

Ryan Lovelace Surfcraft

Santa Barbara is an interesting area. Rocky, right hand point breaks dot the coast, from Refugio to Rincon. The waves are a bit better than what you'll find down south - faster, bigger and considerably more consistent. Which is why Ryan Lovelace, a Seattle born, Southern California shaper settled in this area. Ryan shapes in a small shed, nestled between flower farms and other organic growing operations. His boards are built by hand, from beginning to end. He scrapes, shapes, color coats and glasses each one himself. Watching him work was like standing behind someone performing complicated calculations on a TI-84; quite confusing to the uninitiated. But we stayed for a few hours, chatting with Ryan about his boards, the process and his interest in shaping everything by hand. We even locked ourselves inside his shed while he glassed a board. Ryan is a self-taught shaper. He never apprenticed under anyone, or worked his way from factory floor to an air tight shaping space. Instead, Ryan learned the hard way - trial and error. And now, some ten years later, his boards are being sold on both sides of the states, and in countless countries. Hat's off, amigo.

Kentucky

There's lots of loggin' in the video for Billie Joe Armstrong and Norah Jones' new song, Kentucky.

The Peelgrimage: Part Two

I'd seen people surf it in short videos shot by guys like Michael Kew. I heard them call it The Queen; a rocky point break just south of Santa Barbara. Rincon goes right. On a good day, forever. One section connecting to the next. A fast wave by comparison. And while I had heard and seen so many things about this break, as with a lot of stuff in life, it's not the same until you've seen it yourself.

I paddled out on my Pig. Not the best board for that particular place, but it's what I brought, and what I'm most comfortable on. We paddled past people's homes on the point. Empty, with shades and curtains across their windows - hiding from the sea shredders stumbling past. Ten or twelve people were also in the water. Friendly faces. A few frumpy ones.

That evening, shortly before sunset, we drove back to see what she looked like. Lines followed by lines. Rolling right across the rocks. Ryan Lovelace and a few friends were in the water, taking full advantage of the swell. We had our turn with The Queen, although it seemed we should have waited. Oh well.

Cobbles Classic

Short bit of film from this year's RVCA Cobbles Classic. Filmed and edited by Grant Beck.

The Peelgrimage: Part One

In an effort to avoid over analyzing our experience, I'd like to look at the idea as opposed to the activities. Two guys, travelling in a mildly modified cargo van, sleeping on the side of the road, searching for surf, eating, drinking, and working when we have to. I'm aware this is something most people can't accomplish. Tied down to a desk, a dog, an apartment or an idea. So when Chris came to me, willing to split the cost of gas and sleep in a small space while we wandered from Washington to somewhere south of San Diego, I agreed before he finished his first sentence.

As long as I have access to the internet, I can, hypothetically, be just about anywhere. So we settled on the month of March. Chris would fly into Seattle on the 2nd, load his shit into the van, and head south as soon as possible. Logistics were our only issue. When and where to surf, etc. A problem that would be remedied following a few phone calls.

Three logs lay atop our cargo van as we pulled onto I-5, with the front end pointed due south. The bed Karissa and I built the year prior would serve as both sleeping and storage space. Chris brought quite a few cameras, an assortment of wetsuits and a duffle bag with all sorts of other stuff. I packed equally as light. We had arranged to stay at Point Mugu, a military base on the coast of California, just south of Ventura. Ten days in that area, and then south toward San Diego.

It was almost midnight by the time we pulled into our friend Angel's driveway just north of Portland. She fed us roasted chicken and peach pie. The next morning we ate a late breakfast before getting on the road around noon. The second day of our trip would take us all the way to Williams, CA, where we would sleep in a truck stop parking lot. On the the third day we went to see my friend Steve, who was visiting his mother's vineyard, somewhere to the west of Cazadero.

Rough roads turned to gravel. Our cargo van creeping through the corners. The vineyard sits on something like forty acres, seven of which have been planted with grapes for syrah and pinot. That afternoon, after exploring a small piece of the property, we drank wine and watched the sun set through a clearing in the trees. Set on Santa Cruz, we said our goodbyes and then wound our way through the woods, arriving at New Brighton State Beach shortly before 3am.