Innholdsfortegnelse for No. 564 i Tracks

It’s a week after the Pipe Masters and the famed stretch of sand, which served as the pillowy grandstand for thousands of fans is now mostly empty. The din of John John fervour, which rippled across the beach on finals day is a distant echo and the scaffolding is safely packed away. A four to five foot north swell is funnelling down the coast; never quite squaring up properly with the reefs that require at least a hint of west to reveal their true potential. The squalling wind is also from the north, cross-chopping the surface and making it that little bit harder to get motivated. Despite the less than ideal conditions, Italian surfer, Leo Fioravanti is out at Off The Wall alongside Australian sparring partner, Cody Robinson, and Ozi…

Last year you won the world title for Owen, what’s the difference in winning it this way, this year? I think we went into this year knowing that last year was for Owen it was for my uncle, and for the people, for the people, the people that raised me. I dedicated it to them because yeah they’ve raised me; it was pretty cool last year. This year was more about doing it for me sticking to what we have been training for. What we believe to be working, with Glen. So, Yeah, the kinda feel was I had a couple of opportunities to bow out and didn’t, I just kept doing my thing and yeah, it worked out. This year you had your Mum with you at the final…

Leo Fioravanti was raised on the outskirts of Rome, an ancient city that physically and metaphorically dwarfs everything in its surrounds. Growing up in the town of Cerveteri, he was slightly removed from the hoards of tourists who come in search of Rome’s history, its prized art, its contemporary fashion and its culinary delights. Still, Leo had the opportunity to appreciate the best of the city, while also enjoying a classic Italian upbringing. Leo recalls making school excursions to the Colosseum, the famous museums and the distinguished theatres. He played soccer for his local team and showed promise as a hard-running winger with an eye for goal. A sense of style, a palette for good food and a feel for what Italians might call la dolce vita (the beautiful life)…

 Gold Coast based surf photographer Fran Miller’s latest exhibition ‘Sea Sickkk’ showcases the unique forms that waves take, putting a microscope to the delicate variations in texture, colour and shape of water. While the exhibition is a kind of ode to the sea in all its magnificence, it also attempts to convey a deeper message. With the title of the work, ‘Sea Sickkk’, Fran comes right to the point: as surfers we have this stunning marine environment that brings us so much joy, but many of us do little to ensure its future. In classic surf lingo, sick has positive connotations, but Fran uses the word to question the health of our oceans and our role in the whole debacle. Art, certainly, plays a vital part in political and…

Big wave boards have shrunk dramatically this century. Today, pros split monster tubes on regular shortboards or “step up” with a few extra inches and a smidge more glass. Craig Anderson sugar-glides 12-foot Kanduis on a 5’4” and it looks so easy and so cool, you might think old school guns are fast becoming obsolete. But you’d be wrong. In certain postcodes the traditional big wave gun never went away; in others it’s experiencing a welcome return or is actually a high tech, cutting-edge pioneering device (see: Peahi). American-born, Ulladulla-based shaper, Kirk Bierke knows a thing or two about oversize fibreglass. Father to Russel, the boldest charger in the land, he developed his skills in Hawaii, designing boards for the outer reefs back when hardly anyone tackled them. KB has…

Seeking solace beneath a shaded tree, Benny sits with his head in his hands, listening enviously to the excitable cheers coming from his family as they soak up the warm South American sun with some leisurely water-skiing around the lake. Days earlier, nine-year-old Benny had embarked on his maiden trip to his father, Marcos’s, homeland of Chile. Disorientated from the blistering sun beaming down on his throbbing head, Benny can’t continue. At home later that evening, he feels as though he is lying on a bed of hot coals. Deeply concerned, his mother runs a cold bath and frantically phones the local doctor. When the doctor arrives, Benny’s temperature is a frightening 41 degrees Celsius. With his family fearing the worst, Benny is rushed by car to the nearest hospital.…

From The Vault. A sign from the 1990 Pipe Masters provides a humbling look back at pro surfing’s pre-pubescence. There were no app updates or webcast. Hell there weren’t even mobile phones or internet. Just a texta and a whiteboard. FYI, Tom Carroll would win the event, Martin Potter was in the semis not the booth, Kelly was in Black and White, and John John wouldn’t be born for another two years. Follow. @boskophoto One of surfing’s most prolific lens people. Listen - ‘Song of Innocence’ by David Axelrod. Released in the late 60s, Song of Innocence is a fusion of psychedelic rock, R&B and Jazz by eccentric Californian composer David Axelrod. Noted for his avant garde themes, including heightened mental awareness, this album is a trip that will speak…

I’d been surfing for a couple of years when I finally saved enough for a new stick, but there weren’t many options around. There was the local surf shop, where boards still cost more than I had and the guy who owned it was always fighting with his missus, or there was Doggo’s. Doggo had a weird reputation. Some guys said he was a twisted genius, that despite his eccentricities he could shape you a custom so good you’d improve just by holding it, while others swore he belonged in an institution, that he was a dodgy prick and about as reliable as a second-hand Daihatsu. Being fourteen and new to the whole surf scene, I didn’t know who to believe. I went with Doggo in the end solely because…

The sixth typhoon of the year looked promising. Like its geographical brethren, the southern cyclones and northern hurricanes, typhoons may deliver the yin or yang of nature: joy to some and devastation to others, depending on your location and desires. Never was this more evident than now, for while I was en route to a hopefully wave-rich rendezvous in the North Pacific, a triple-pronged horror show led by Hurricane Irma was destroying the Caribbean, also staring with its three malignant eyes at Florida. Meanwhile, as if nature’s wrath wasn’t enough, the demented despot, Kim Jong-un, was firing missiles around the place like a naughty kid with a slingshot. Why is it that dictators so often seem to be comical, even ridiculous figures, yet are simultaneously murderous psychopaths? Something about their…