The Dirtbag Diaries - Meditation in Motion

More audible than visual this week, I'm really pleased to be directing you towards The Dirtbag Diaries.   

The Dirtbag Diaries is a fantastic outdoor sports podcast produced by Fitz and Becca Cahall out of Seattle, USA, with the support of Patagonia, New Belgian Brewing, and Kuat Racks.  If you're into spending time in nature, be it climbing, biking, surfing, kayaking, fishing or hiking, then I would highly recommend listening to their podcasts.  Earlier this year I submitted a recording of a short essay to them for their "Shorts" series, and after a bit of trans-Atlantic editing, it's now live on their site for free download. 
  

The subject of my essay was how taking your time to travel overland has a similar meditative effect to that found when immersing yourself in an activity such as riding a wave or climbing:  focusing on motion and losing the distractions of everything but the here and now.

I posted a link to my initial recording in a previous post, but if you didn't listen to that then please click through to their site to either listen to, or download, a fully polished and professionally produced version (here).  Doing this will help to support a podcast that is arguably the truest and most concise voice for anybody with either a general affinity for the outdoors, or for those who organise their lives around sleeping in a car to wake up early and see the sun rise whilst being actively involved with their environment.  

Massive thanks to Fitz and Becca for taking on my essay and for their patience in helping me to edit the script and then record it for them, and finally for producing it for publication. 

A Cold Snap and the Stink Test

Initiative Surf coach Alex Espir, layered up and dry on the search for winter waves.

Drive, walk, watch, wonder, repeat. Sometimes whole days are spent in this cycle looking for waves when winter storms roll through.

It was -8 degrees celsius one morning this week when I got in my car to go to work. Damned cold. We're having a proper cold snap at the moment and it's coincided with a nice little run of good waves, with the cold easterly winds coming from Russia being straight offshore. It's times like this when I'm glad that my friends at Finisterre make fully functional technical clothing that keep me warm when it's cold and cool when it's hot.

Tom Kay started Finisterre making fleeces and hoodies in his attic in Perranporth. When the business grew into a workshop in St Agnes he brought a university friend of mine called Ernie onboard as the marketing manager and Tom Podolinsky as a technical garment designer. The brand has slowly grown and picked up a shelf-full of awards along the way for it's ethical business practices and environmental conscience. Alongside considering every step of their products life cycles, they also brought back a rare breed of fine fibre British sheep from the edge and used a Land Rover that ran on bio-fuel to get them all down to the beach for a surf. All things considered, they're the sort of company who deserve all of the praise and success that they get.

"Take this and just do what you do, be as hard as you can on it, and let us know how it goes" were Ernie's words to me as he handed me a Brisa synthetic base layer the day before I boarded a train for Morocco last Spring. The Brisa was a new addition to their range, and a controversial one being a synthetic performance base layer rather than their normal preferred material of merino wool. Synthetics are well known for their ability to wick sweat and keep you dry when active, but they're also regarded as being a bit stinky. So I stink tested it: I wore it for a week straight all the way to Morocco by train with all of the stresses, all nighters and running for trains involved in hauling surfboards across a continent, then climbed a mountain in it and made it to the coast. The Brisa's construction is like a double skin, with "pores" on the weave of the outside surface, kind of like human skin. When static the pores are "closed" but when the fabric moves (due to movement of the wearer) the pores are stretched open, allowing sweat to be wicked away. Here are a few select extracts from my product testing journal:

My friend Kyle in a Bise insulation layer, waiting for a train somewhere in France.

"Put brisa back on at 5am after a wash, underneath a Coho and Etobicoke and it's smelling ok. Had my camping knife confiscated and binned by security at St Pancreas (I've had it for 20 years, so upsetting) then spilt milk on the brisa. Not a good morning."

"Hauling a boardbag across Paris in the sunshine made me appreciate it's wicking abilities, plus black hides sweat. Note: Parisian cafe baguettes fit perfectly into the pockets of our Etobicoke and Bise insulation layers."

"8 hours on a "regional" train to Madrid, I did some yoga on the floor of the luggage area and then a night in a cafe bar next to the train station. 5 and a half hours so far of coffee, beer and backgammon, still 3 and a half hours until our (potential) train. The Brisa has now done 24 hours straight since it's last hotel handbasin wash and it smells alright. My eyes feel as though they've had fire spat in them though."

Day 6 of the Brisa stink test; drinking from a mountain stream whilst trekking in the High Atlas Mountains.

"Ferry. Bus. Tangiers. The Brisa has done 39 hours straight. Carry my bag and boadbag all around the crowded streets and alleys of the medina until we find a nice old hotel. We get offered hasish eight times and I have sweat my rig off. The Brisa gets a wash in the sink and the evening off."

We trek for miles up to the "roughage" climbers hut. It was damned hard going, hot and at altitude (up above the snow line) but the Brisa worked absolutely perfectly - kept me warm, kept the sun off and wicked sweat well so I didn't get cold in the wind." Back at the gite the armpits smell but the rest seems ok, hung it up to air.

"Could I wear it as a rashie? Alone with boardies or under a wetsuit? Our surf issues meant that I didn't experiment with either - it's not cold enough to need a rashie under my 3/2 and it's too windy for just boardshorts and a surf-shirt. I wonder what SPF rating the Brisa would have?

Lost down the lanes around the River Severn back in the UK looking for a "secret ledge" that turns the incoming tide into a surf-able river wave.

The Finisterre Landy: ever-ready for wind and tide to align ready for the dash downhill to the beach.

Finisterre have an online sale happening right now and are having a workshop sale next weekend, on Saturday 11th February at The Tubestation on Polzeath, with some big reductions on this past seasons range. It'd be worth your while swinging by if you're in North Cornwall.

The Train To Taghazoute and The Storyboard Go Live...

Gare du Nord - departure board possibilities...

It's been a busy week here; an article that I put together for Drift surf magazine has been published, to my despair hot on the heels of great articles featuring the photography of two of my favourite image makers Chris Burkard and Dane Peterson (talk about big shoes to fill), and The Storyboard exhibition opened in Polzeath, Cornwall.

The sights, sounds and smells of the souks, Marrakech.

First up, the article: Back in April my friend Kyle and I set off on the train aiming for Morocco, lugging our boardbags with us and hoping for the best. I had a couple of cameras with me and the trip became more than just a mission for waves, with a mountain climbed, some cities explored and a few arguments with Spanish railway officials along the way. We got good good waves, but that's not the point.

Drift have been as encouraging and supportive as ever and have put it out there for people to see so please click any of these jumps to see The Train To Taghazoute in full. I'd also like to push out a big thanks to the team at Finisterre for their encouragement and for keeping us warm when it was cold, and cool when it was hot.

Then on Friday night James Otter and I spent a lot longer than anticipated carefully hanging our Storyboard exhibition in the Tubestation in Polzeath, Cornwall. We finished up at midnight surrounded by pizza boxes and an assortment of tape measures and hanging wire but we're really pleased with the results. The Storyboard is being exhibited "open" alongside two finished surfboards and a set of twelve images documenting the process, all framed in timber from the same tree as the surfboard.

James starting to carefully shape the rails of The Storyboard.

The Storyboard is for sale (it will be fully finished and ready to surf, including in the package the entire set of framed images for a total of £2995), as are framed or mounted prints (£75 and £25) and signed and numbered handmade coffee table books (£25).

If you're interested in the board, prints or book then leave a comment on this post at the bottom with your contact details and I'll get in touch, or hit up James through his website.

The board really is a beautiful piece of craftsmanship and we believe that the "one tree" lifecycle angle makes this an exhibition worth making a detour for. If you do get a chance to eyeball it any time over the next six weeks, please let me know what you thought.

I love it when a plan comes together.

6'10" Mini-Magic against the workshop wall.

Ten Tips To Take With You

1) Take the airline blanket. It's free like the food right? Warmth, a spare towel, picnic blanket, bunk-bed privacy and surfboard padding are just a few of their many uses.

2) The travel uniform. After a lot of trial and error, I've boiled it down to a combo of a black t-shirt and camo shorts or dark jeans. This get-up'll hide several days worth of travel grime, sweat and spills. The only time this has failed was when I hitched a ride in the back of a builder's truck full of cement dust at midday in Central America, when nothing could've disguised the road on me. Just don't wear white, tie-dye or some 'safari' costume.

3) Take half as much stuff, and a bit more money (twice as much would make a neat sounding phrase, but who's got that much coin?). Whatever it is, you can probably buy it there, and it'll probably be cheaper.

Which leads on to...

4) Go Loco. You don't take food with you right, so why take toiletries when you can buy toothpaste and soap when you arrive. Immerse yourself that little bit more and enhance your experience, and you probably won't get sick either.

5) Flag towel. If you've got to bed down in a hostel, backpackers or any other sort of communal accommodation then get yourself a flag towel. As long as you're at least partially proud of where you're from and it won't get you lynched then this'll avoid you losing your towel from some washing line. They're bulky and heavy so there'll always be a few people who'd rather half-inch one than carry their own, and they're much less likely to take a distinctive towel that's the flag of a country or region that they're not from because it's kind of a give away.

Smart hey.

6) Go Overland. Either when you get there, or even just to get there in the first place. Catch a bus, hop a train, climb aboard the local supply boat or rent a moped. Just don't get in an air-conditioned minibus whatever you do.

7) Say "YES" to everything. Within reason, and using your good judgement of course. Try it: Good things'll happen, opportunities will present themselves and you'll have a much better time.

8) Make memories. Keep a journal, carry a camera or collect your tickets to scrapbook. If your memory is even twice as good as mine then I'll bet that in ten years time you'll have forgotten at least half of the names, faces, places and events that you never thought you would.

9) Take a pen on the plane. You're bound to get handed an immigration or customs form to fill in and there's nothing more annoying than having to ask to borrow one or not getting your mitts on one at all until you're at the desk.

10) Do it all with a SMILE. It's a universal language and makes the world a better place.

But most of all make the most of it, breathe it all in and just get amongst it.

The World's a beautiful place so go see it.

Choo-choo

I know what you're thinking..."what's with all the pictures of trains?" right? Trains aren't meant to be cool. I reckon otherwise though; I kinda like them as a means of getting around.

At some stupidly small hour this morning whilst most people were either fast asleep or being turfed out of nightclubs, my friend Kyle and I got back from a trip to Morocco. We went from Truro, Cornwall (well I did, Kyle started out in Wales) and got the train all the way to Marrakech with our surfboards. From there it was just a bus ride to the coast and we could get some waves. A medium haul surf trip entirely on a rail: Start-stop-start again, clackety clack, tickets, platform numbers and departure boards, four capital cities, Europe and Africa, pack un-pack, headphones, being kicked off platforms, midnight cafes and crazy taxi drivers, dining cars, eleven trains three of which were underground, a ferry, "you can't bring a surfboard on this train", books and looking out the window, seeing towns as the graffitied backs of warehouses and industrial units, "you want hashish?",lots of coffee in paper cups, wildflower meadows, funny looks and a jacket for a pillow.
We got a few good waves and climbed a mountain.

I have more rolls of film to develop than I can carry in my hands so once they're all done and I've absorbed and reflected on the whole damn deal I'll post a few up and put some words to it.

Why?
Because sometimes it's important to make the journey as important as the destination, put your feet on the stepping stones and nopt just jump right over them. Take a little bit of time.

Images:
The top one is the California Zephyr, which I caught from San Francisco to New York with my old man a few years back so that we could see what America looked like.
I drove my car onto the back of the Indian Pacific and let it carry me across the Nullabor desert right across Australia rather than sit on my own driving on a straight road for three days when my road-trip co-piolt couldn't make it.
The trains in Sri-Lanka are cool, old and clunky with little picture postcard train stations straight out of 1950's Britain. To get my surfboards on I had to pay for a first class ticket which was about a pound more.