In an ode to Icarus, Sam George opines on the fanciful history of airborne surf exploration. From the early days of brothers Bill and Dudley Whitman and their initial exploits to North Eleuthera to the West Coast unfurling before Mike Castillo’s instrument panel, there’s no question that these days boat trips are for the birds, and some of our best discoveries are taking place above our heads.

Littered with numerous surf-centric heiaus that date back to approximately 800 AD, history is where you find it on the Big Island, and if you’re palling around with Junior and CJ Kanuha, as Kirk Lee Aeder did, you come to find it almost everywhere you look. With family roots reaching back to the days of King Kamehameha, the Kanuha’s share a seldom-heard (and seen) history of one of surfing’s most hallowed, and historical, grounds.

Carlos “The Jackal” Burle Fights the Power of Stereotype, Hegemony, and the Playing Field Itself.

In the sardonic surf world in which we ride, Brazilians, in the words of Rodney Dangerfield, get no respect. Carlos Burle has experienced this firsthand, as the big-wave elite can be especially cruel. But ever since a fateful session 1981, when he first paddled near his childhood home of Recife, he’s made surfing more than just a pastime, he’s made it his life’s work. He’s gone on to ride some of the biggest waves the planet can produce, and while he admits it can’t go on forever, he’s definitely not done yet.

With Mikala Jones, Timmy Turner, and Daniel Jones

Several years ago when doctors told Timmy Turner that if he returned to Indonesia he very well could die, he listened—for awhile. But after stints up in Alaska and British Columbia the cold water began to wear on the feral kid, and the calling of familiar Sumatran lineups was too much to ignore. Joining brothers Mikala and Daniel Jones, and photographer Dustin Humphrey aboard a rickety fishing boat, Timmy sets out to pick up where his last Indo adventure left off.

“There was barely enough elbow room to wiggle inside Rick Sharp’s makeshift loft holding a career’s worth of his surfing art. Headlamp turned on, we carefully maneuvered beneath a low ceiling of cobwebs squeezing between cardboard boxes and frames with his ‘forgotten archives.’”

Harkening back to the days of Captain Cook, a different breed of explorer sets out across Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, but rather than seeking safe passage, this time they’re looking for the shallowest spits of reef they can find. Thanks to many a day at the helm, eventually Tim Brimblecombe, Andrew Shield, and surfers Asher Pacey, Josh Kerr and James Wood would uncover exactly the New World riches they were hoping to…but then no nautical tale is that simple.

Africa’s surf wealth is far-reaching, and few have kept this fact more in focus than West Cape’s Alan van Gysen. Like an animal on the Sahara, he’s prone to wandering the great continent, always in the search for the next watering hole. And from the northern points of Morocco, to landmine laced Mozambique, to remote Madagascar, and the diamond-studded Namibian coast, Gysen’s portfolio speaks to the remoteness of this relatively untapped source.

It’s funny how many surf stories start at Salt Creek. So, in keeping with that classic, cliché tradition, we pick up Pat Stacy several years removed from shooting his friends out at Gravels, and in the midst of a very promising photography career. It began with a meeting here, a fortuitous frame there, a good reference from a friend, and next thing you know the soft-spoken kid from Mission Viejo’s traversing the world, chasing the likes of Andy Irons and Joel Parkinson.