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A Jungle Return
By Jim Banks

Even now, with well-established camps catering to barrel-seekers of every stripe, Grajagan is still an adventure. The jungle comes alive at night, strange creatures track the beach, and given the chance monkeys will ransack your room. Jim Banks, Tom Carroll, Joel Fitzgerald and friends make a return trip to the reef-site of many previous tube rides and discover that although the line up is more heavily attended than it used to be, G-land still offers the solace that only surfing in distant, magical lands can.

More Than My Share
Bev Morgan stories and photos

Growing up in Southern California through the 70s and 80s, gremmies were regaled with stories of waterman exploits from the golden age. In retrospect, it seems that the tales spun behind surf shop counters or fireside at the beach were equal parts cultural indoctrination and eulogy for a region. Killer Dana had been killed already, but it was still important for young surfers to know that an 8-foot south swell produced 300-yard walls there, and that you used to dive for your dinner. Bev Morgan supplies more fodder from an earlier era—information to stoke the spirit and motivate the pursuit.

Panhandling
Surf searching by bicycle in southeastern Alaska
Story and photos by Paul Ferraris

A long summer in the rain might be the short version of Ferraris and crews’ Alaskan sojourn, but of course there was much more: a stoked and generous local crew; the tribes that allowed them to camp on their beaches; good, clean surf; bears and terrifying ocean crossings in search of a mythic point. There is nothing like traveling by bike for keeping fully immersed in a territory. Long live human-powered pursuits!

Gallery: Bill Osgood
The Velocity of Paint

The paintings featured here are deft and seemingly quickly rendered. Not overly worked, the colors and forms depict a deep familiarity with the subjects like a conversation between old friends—not a lot of explaining required. And the subjects are the tribe of Bodysurfarians on the North Shore and riflemen of the Screaming Eagles in Shau Valley in ’68. Osgood appears to be a man formed of harrowing experiences, uniquely equipped to express the essential.

Rock to Rock
Joe Bark and the revival of the California waterman tradition
By Brad Melekian

“Every Joe Bark conversation—at least every one that I’ve ever had—finds its way back to the ocean, and usually to paddling.

This makes it easy to forget that the man happens to be an incredibly accomplished surfer, that he’s put in his time in big waves in Hawaii and Puerto Escondido, and on The Hill in Palos Verdes; that he’s trained in every waterman discipline—a hell of a fisherman, a no-joke freediver, handy with a spear and completely capable of willing an Evinrude back into commission. Sure, he’s one of the world’s foremost authorities on paddling, but he’s also a lot more.”

Plus... A portfolio by French photographer Greg Rabejac (if you dig the Cote Basque, pop a bottle of Bordeaux and enjoy), six bits from D. Hump, the saga of the Black’s key, and rock surfing in the foothills of the Sierra.

The Journal is a collaborative effort requiring not only our machinations here behind the curtain, but also the well-honed knowledge of our core of reader supporters, for which we are most grateful. Consider subscribing. and join the circle.

Christian Beamish
Associate Editor
The Surfer’s Journal