Last summer the family relocated to some cliffs in Baja for a few weeks. One absolutely windless evening, as the sun began to whisper sweet nothings to the the horizon, my wife handed me the baby, shotgunned a Tecate, and paddled out. I was smitten.
So were the rest of the surfers, dug into their camps and well into their post-surf rituals. Their hoots echoed off the cliff walls as she paddled toward the empty peak in the silvery light, spun, and glided into the first wave that presented itself. She found a high trim line and stuck to it, swooping and gliding all the way to the channel. Hooting ensued. A fellow camper came over to chat.
"Your wife rips."
"Thanks."
"What's she riding?"
"Big Fish*."
"How big?"
"6'9"
My new friend scratched at his twelve-day beard. "That's not a fish," he said, squinting into the setting sun.
I could have sworn it was. I shaped it for her, and the order card read, "Big Fish."
"That's a twin-keel funboard," he said. I had never heard of anything so horrifying, and certainly didn't want to claim it when he asked who the shaper was, so I told him it was a Rusty.
He nodded and lit a cigarette. "Typical," he said, then walked back to his camp site.
*The above board is the 'fish' in question.
As teachers on spring break burned out on paper-grading and poorly-formed sandbars, my wife and I have the spent last four days sampling some of Northern California's excellent pointbreaks.
Waves have been scored.
The other day, while watching locals dismantle their gorgeous wave from a safe distance, my wife pointed out that they were all on big boards.
Not guns, mind you, but big boards. Longboards. And this spot is nothing to trifle with, even on an 'average' day. I had trifled with it earlier that day on a 5'11" disc, and I had become intimate with the reef in a way that could have gotten me investigated had the reef been an page and me a member of congress.
The next day we returned, but this time I was equipped with this big-ass 7 foot egg in all of her thick, low-rockered, wide-nosed-and-tailed, flexie-finned wonder:
I've blogged about this board before
here. I know it's weird looking.
Long story short, I was enthused. Score another point for big boards.
And score again for
das Frankenfish, the 7'9 mutant conceived by Brent, Lagunitas IPA, and standard case of DS squared (Daddy Sleep Deprivation Syndrome).
As per tradition, said surfer waived the glasser-suggested 'curing time' and got to work putting this big quad fish through its paces. But first he put his kid to work polishing her up. Them's resin pinlines, son!
Is it a fish? Who cares? What's in a name? Tell my wife, or passengers on the Frankenfish, or the locals we saw yesterday what defines them or their board, and they could tell you it's not important. They could tell you what is important is the swoop and the glide. The high trim line, the rail-burying bottom turn, the fall down the face, legs burning, heart flying.
But they probably wouldn't. They would most likely just paddle quietly back to the peak and grab another.
Or, if you were my wife, you might pause for a Tecate first.
My first surfboard was a quad, but after an unfortunate encounter with the inside rocks at Rhode Island's P__n_ J__i__, it was a twin. I was fifteen years old.
Aside from having two fins, this stick differs from its predecessors in almost every other design element: rocker, fin placement, bottom contour, rail shape..etc. What it has in common is glide and effortless speed. What it adds is hold, drive, and a thruster-like positivity without the drag. It recaptures the feeling, but thankfully not the actual experience.
If it looks like there's wax on it, that's because I waxed it. Then I rode it. Then I cranked some Black Sabbath for the drive back home and, for a moment as I passed through a eucalyptus grove with the windows down, I almost believed that there was a lukewarm case of Black Label beer in the trunk and I was going to get busted by my parents for missing dinner again.
This particular War Pony has a few extra flats in the back. Not great when you're with a lady, but super fun when you're looking for more release through the tail.
The jet-tail's been around for a while, but credit goes to Daniel 'Tomo' Thomson for its recent resurgence. The fish's roots may be buried deep in San Diego, but its branches extend globally.
The rear panels have some crazy fun flex. I keep sneaking back to the shop to squeeze 'em. 
Do my fingers look fat? Could be the lighting...
And this.
And this.
Resin pigment work by Leslie Anderson of Fatty Fiberglass. When I asked her what she thought of the board she said, "who cares? I'm in love."
6'0" swallow flextail twin... along with 2 more swordfish on the way.
Reese on his 6'0"x20x2.5 swordfish at Ponce Inlet
*The above board is the 'fish' in question.
I've blogged about this board before here. I know it's weird looking.
As per tradition, said surfer waived the glasser-suggested 'curing time' and got to work putting this big quad fish through its paces. But first he put his kid to work polishing her up. Them's resin pinlines, son!
Is it a fish? Who cares? What's in a name? Tell my wife, or passengers on the Frankenfish, or the locals we saw yesterday what defines them or their board, and they could tell you it's not important. They could tell you what is important is the swoop and the glide. The high trim line, the rail-burying bottom turn, the fall down the face, legs burning, heart flying.
Conditions were perfect for some fin testing this weekend--swell was small and clean (weird), wind was non existent (really weird), and my wife volunteered her 7' EPS egg while she watched the baby (bizarre). The board, a modified displacement hull template with low rocker, is a great platform for fin testing, and I got to surf a variety of fin combos in a variety of tides.
Saturday's lower morning tide called for the 2+1 setup, with a 7" flexible fin in the center. Not enough power to really feel the fin, but the combo held in on the steeper faces, and was really stable during late takeoffs. Stoked to try this out in some bigger surf.
As the tide filled the Spitfire single was the call. The template and thick foil make it virtually drag-free (you can feel a big difference on the paddle-out alone), but it's surprisingly fast, stable, and drivey. Rekindled my love for single fins (it's been at least month since I last declared my love for singles. Sorry, singles!).
The swell dropped a bit for Sunday, but conditions were still clean and glassy. Started off with a Wil Jobson Twinzer-inspired setup (no pictures, as the coffee had eroded whatever attention span I have left), which was fast as hell and held in nicely.
An egg and a fish to get the ball rolling. The egg is a 6'0 quad with a coffee-'n-cream full board tint, and the 5'10" keel fin is a crazy Fatty concoction of foam stains, swirls, and pinlines. Both feature Lokbox finboxes. Bitchin.
