In early July the governor of Hawaii appropriated $20 million for the purchase and acquisition of Lipoa Point from the Maui Land and Pineapple Company, effectively preserving the environs of the greater Honolua Bay area for generations to come. Lahaina resident Dusty Payne celebrated by blowing the foam off of a tall frosty one. Photo: Dooma
Jason Kenworthy catches an unknown at one sand-covered reef of winter fame on a lesser-documented condition set: off-season Off the Wall, beachbreaking with a touch of windswell, a steady flow of against-the-grain lefts for the choosing.
Aggrandizing fist-pumps fall limp and the low drone of jet-skis passing in the channel turn muted for Joel Parkinson, gliding on to the cadence of a rainbow-brushed lip at Cloudbreak. Photo: Brian Bielmann
Unabashed by a little high-tide wonk and windswell, Nate Tyler sets—and un-sets—his fins near home in Central California. Photo: Chris Burkard.
With Cardiff's kelp beds reducing the afternoon seabreeze to a dull boil, Cyrus Sutton frames the inherent appeal in washing off the day's grime at the north end of a 9'6". Photo: Chris Straley/A-Frame
Just after dawn, Mickey Brennan makes first tracks through a New South Wales tube, where a gang of jet-skis and bodyboarders usually swarm by late morning. Photo: Hilton Dawe
It's 2013 and still no one's getting around in flying cars or surfing wave-pools over belly high. For a solid five decades and counting surfers have been fascinated by the possibility of channeling the naturally occurring resource into an on-demand duplicate of the real thing, yet wave pools hold their place as mostly a flavor-of-the-year novelty. In 1969, Fred Hemmings applied James Bond-ish style and the the right tool for the job to "Big Surf" in Tempe, Arizona, perhaps thinking, as many surfers still are, "Maybe next year." Photo: Dick Graham
A product of his environment, Russ Bierke takes to the rock slabs of South Australia with deftness that most surfers could only hope to cultivate in twice as many years as the sixteen-year-old. Photo: Russell Ord
With three-thousand-plus miles of coast and a bounty of shapely coves to choose from, the sheer number of options in Chile can make it difficult to stay put. After a few weeks of sturdy south swell overloading this particular point, conditions shifted into place for the handful of surfers who waited it out. "It was every bit as good as it looks," photographer Ryan Craig recalled of the morning conditions. Photo: Ryan Craig
Photographer Lucano Hinkle commits to precarious waters in Puerto Escondido while Mainland Mex resident Diego Cadena demonstrates the more commonly preferred high-line route through the wave field. Photo: Lucano Hinkle
"Yes, culture perpetually comes to forks in the road," Charlie Smith wrote of surfing's evolutionary cul-de-sacs in TSJ, issue 22.3 "There are groupings that choose the Right Historical Side and groupings that choose the Wrong Historical Side." Here, kneeboarder Chayne Simpson assumes the position and makes a case for his near-standing brethren in Wollongong, Australia. Photo: Steen Barnes
With the closing glimpse of light to spot a landing, Craig Anderson aims to elevate his ender, on-point and on-time, between the evening redness and the dark. Photo: Rod Owen/A-frame
After a six-hour day of surfing at one of the many fine pointbreaks in Salina Cruz, Rusty Long stood on the beach and snapped off a few frames, including this one of a local surfer named Fito. According to Long, "This wave went by the name 'Holy Shit' [according to] the original guys who surfed it because of this end section which often leaves no escape…things go completely bionic down the bar." Photo: Rusty Long
Refraction is one phenomenon of physics that’s uniquely important to Floridian surfers. When a lengthy run of northwest wind blows toward the Caribbean, it can create hard-to-predict waves that bounce off the Bahamas or Gulf Stream, puzzling forecasters and sending swell back to Florida. Here Shea Lopez enjoys refraction of another sort, courtesy of the Sebastian Inlet pier. Photo: Dick Meseroll
Going fast. Speed. Sometimes it’s important. Sometimes we want to know: “Who won the race?” “This board fast?” “How’s it go down the line?” Much ado about the thrill of zero-to-sixty and the forward march of progress and blowing through the occasional red light. But what of back-peddling from the finish line? Or wheeling the family convertible from the garage to stop hard at a few green lights? It could be nice—never know until you try—to get past cruising speed in some Central American backwater and tug on the emergency brake until it’s dislodged from the center console and you’re just left there, holding the disembodied piece of plastic in your hand like a single-fin out of water. What’s wrong with a little recession? A little addition by subtraction? Throw a power-bog in the mix. Photo: Chris Klopf, Surfer: Tony Roberts