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It's no Ron Jon, but our bet is that what this surf shop shack down in Southern Baja lacks in stellar merchandise and bitchin window displays it more than makes up for in quality ding repair. Ding repair and taco stands are a lot alike in that way: the more suspect they appear from the outside the better they usually are once your order comes up. Photo: William Sharp

Forget the ancient Polynesians, we may be able to point the finger at the Venetians for pioneering the flat-water SUP movement. Proving that Italy influences more than just fashion and fast cars, Venice's gondoliers have been stroking it upright for centuries. And now, in a moment harkening back to a more classical period, Maui pioneer Robby Naish picks up the paddle and susses out the famed canal system. Not a bad way to see the city, and certainly beats being a tourist. Photo: Damiano Levati

How many bros is too many? Depends on how big your boat is, I guess. But one way to know for sure is to ask someone aboard if they can name all the hands on deck. If they can't, it's probably too many. When it came to identifying the crew members on this luxurious Volcom charter, we tapped Troy Eckert, who was onboard. He was able to pinpoint Mike Morrissey (standing up), himself (far right), Dave Post (just to his left), and Pat Towersey (to the left of Post). He also guessed that Magnum Martinez and a kid named "Carrick" were onboard, but couldn't be sure. Five out of nine's not bad. It's probably safe to say this little rubber ducky's a tad overloaded, but then considering Divine snapped this one in 2001, we'll forgive Eckert for his lapse in memory. Now, the next question: what ran out first, gas or Bintang? Photo: Jeff Divine

It goes like this: The final horn of the Pipe Masters blows, Taj Burrow wins, occupants of the Billabong house bang on pots and pans and revel in the moment. Meanwhile, up Ke Nui a couple clicks, Ozzie Wright and the Goons of Doom plug in and unload. In the backyard of the Volcom house the invite list is distinguished—or infamous, depending on your perspective. Crown Royal is passed out by the case, a heavy vibe settles over the yard, and amidst the chaos the band keeps playing on. Chalk it up to just another winter on the North Shore. Photo: S. Whisper

I think it was 1966 when they built a coffer-dam around the harbor area-to-be at Dana Point and pumped the sea water out leaving fish flopping and abalone and lobster high and dry. The sea birds were dive-bombing the dying sea life, and surfers were crying. Next they used bull-dozers to scrape the natural sea bottom and rock reefs into a smooth basin, then let the sea water back in and built a break wall around it. Every point break in Southern California, including Malibu, has been the target of just such a travesty. Area-waterman legend Ron Drummond had waged a passionate single-handed campaign to stop the death of Killer Dana but those were different times and he was largely ignored. Decades later Craig Lockwood would write a short story to form the basis of surfing musical, “Surf Story”, that wove a parody of surf culture around the destruction of Killer Dana and the end of an era. –S.P. Top Photo: Ron Stoner/Surfer Bottom Photo: Dave Dash.

Some like 'em flat, some like 'em round, some like 'em big, some like 'em small. And like that we're starting to sound a whole like like Sir Mix-A-Lot's "Baby Got Back"... which is not a good thing. Anyway, here's to whatever rear you prefer to ride. Photo: Moonwalker

Shot with Bond's bow-tie camera, top secret scribbles from inside the bay at Harbour. Now all you have to do is mow foam for the next 50 years and you'll know what to do with them. Photo: S. Whisper

"So wait, what you're telling me is that you put a third fin back here on the tail? I don't know Simon, that seems kinda crazy." Crazy like a fox. Simon Anderson dropping his Thruster on the Trestles audience circa 1981. Photo: Jeff Divine

There are so many cliches about photos like this. "It's like G-land for Lilliputians." You know, that kind of thing. But given how crowded and hectic our lives get, and how little perfect surf some of us are privy too, there's solace in flawless ankle-snappers like this...especially when it's six inches and roping without a drop of water out of place...as the cliche goes. Photo: Scott Carter

Who says the finless alaia thing is for small surf? Naturally a free-thinker, Dave Rastovich took exception to convention when he paddled out into the Sunset lineup au naturale this winter. Harkening back to a more ancient time on Oahu, he bravely hangs in there and waits for the edge to bite. Photo: Pat Stacy

Circa-mid-1930s Paddleboard Cove. From Preston Peterson's private collection of photos. Early in the Cove's use by surfers, the regulars cleared a channel in the rocks, from the beach to waist-deep, so they could walk their heavy boards out a few yards and begin paddling rather than carry them over the rocks. This fellow wore swimming goggles, which can be seen hanging around his neck, to shallow dive for the abalone on deck. The shellfish were rampant by then. Sea otters had long before been exterminated which had been the abalone's natural predator, resulting in an un-natural level of propagation. The first day Lorrin Harrison fished abs commercially, at Abalone Cove in Laguna, he claims to have taken seven hundred dozen!

Corky Carroll at Surfside Water Tower circa-1963. Corky grew up in that small community on “B” row, “A” row being oceanfront, his home being across the street from the sand, and “C” row facing Coast Highway behind them. It was a quaint and rustic collection of beach structures and equally interesting inhabitants. His bodacious style fit into the mix. I met him about the time this picture was taken while I was working for Mickey Munoz who managed Ole Surfboards on Bay Blvd. in Seal Beach. At the time, Mickey was Corky’s mentor as a competitive surfer and paddler. Corky was smoking everyone right then- the epitome of a precocious, obnoxious kid, absolutely driven to rip. It wasn’t pretty but he was radical and flashy, thus a contest winner, and ultimately became the first seriously recompensed pro-surfer when Catalina paid him thirty-grand a year to represent their attempt at authentic surf wear. Today, you can stay in Corky’s beachfront casa at Saladita, Mexico, and talk story and surf with him (he’s mellowed considerably in his mature years), for $1,500 a week. If you can afford that kind of thing, it’s a surf experience worth having. -- Pez Photo: Ron Stoner

Scratch any given Santa Cruz surfer, and you'll find an Angeleño living under the skin. Originally from Santa Monica (where he attended St. Monica High with C.R. Stecyk), Michel Junod is most well know for his arch-traditional nose riding. That said, his personal surf iceberg has plenty of mass beneath the surface, as evidenced by this 1974 shot of him on a balls-out speed run at maxing Rocky Rights. Photo: Divine

Where it is isn't so much as important as the fact that yes, wonderful little pullouts like this still exist. An empty lineup, A-frame peaks, offshore winds, scenery that'll knock your booties off. Sign us up. The lonesome Kiwi road awaits. Photo: Anthony Ghiglia

"I had this whole batch of photos that I thought were a lost cause, but it's amazing what I was able to do digitally to help this shot out," explains Jeff Divine of this little South African gem he polished. Taken in '78 at the Bay of Plenty, "these photos of Shaun Tomson have just been sitting collecting dust," continues Divine. "I don't know why I held on to them for so long, but I'm glad I did. I wonder what other images are out that there we could bring back to life." Photo: Divine