Evolution not revolution
Been a funny old week here at Carve's palatial downtown Newquay penthouse bunker.
On the Monday I interviewed one of the key, legendary even, guys in surfing's timeline, Simon Anderson, the chap who gave us the thruster. And the following Sunday I was sat down with the current world number one, who we know as Mr Smith.
Now Jordy is tall, even when sitting down he towers over me. But the affable Saffa has grown into his own skin over the years and the witty but shy kid is now as confident, carefree and full of smiles as you'd expect the current best surfer in the world to be. Simon Anderson equally is a funny old bugger and warms to interview questions that tickle his shaper's mind.
It was odd because I interviewed South African Jordy in North Wales and Australian Simon in the Walters shaping joint at Wheal Kitty in Aggie. So surfing's biggest and brightest have been gracing the UK'S damp shores recently. Which is nice.
One point that couldn't be avoided in either conversation was wave pools. And you'll see the vibe in the articles deeper in the mag but the takeaway is the same: they're here, they're happening and you can have a blast in a freshwater lake or never darken their doors.
Having spent a week in Wales working on a couple of shoots one thing is apparent from all the regular punters laying out hard earned cash for their brown waves: the stoke is the same. Surfing is surfing whether you're doing it in the shadow of the sublime Welsh slate mountains, the stout granite of Cornwall or anywhere else you choose to feel the slide. Hell even in a river in Munich. The rush, the buzz, the good times chemicals flooding your system are the same.
You. Are. Having. Fun.
Which is the whole point surely?
If surfing isn't fun then what the hell are we all doing here?