the dirt farm surf and skate
dfsc blog
Jay M.
Jeff P.


Surf and related ocean stories

know fear
by mike shipp
by ron daubs
by joe hession
by mike shipp
    It was destiny.

   I spotted the garage sale sign only because I had to turn around and go back home for my forgotten wet suit. Dawn Patrol would go on without me. I spotted the long board propped against the garage from the end of the block and knew. It was all I could do to keep from flooring it. I parked my truck in front of the driveway and myself in front of the board. more here


    1973 USA Hawaii
Kailua Kona keauhou bay big island.
not too many howlies (haolies).
killer locals, yes they were very hard on my friends,
but not me.
Enter mushrooms in the pasture across from the cemetery,
South Kona black sand beach, now covered with magma
Allii drive and Kahotek
a couple years later.
Bleeding on the reef,
and then the church.
This was all because of a borrowed surfboard.
A 10 ft duke board.


   As I look back now I find it difficult to comprehend what was real and what was imagined as I sat alongside Jack O'Neillís cliff-side pad at the Dirt Farm that late fall afternoon.

For three hours before sunset the surf at Pleasure Point had been epic. A north swell originating just off the Aleutian Islands sent long lines reeling across the point from sewer peak, through first and second peak. At 38th more here
   The salmon boats left in the dark an hour before dawn and if he had seen how big the surf was, he'd have never left his slip. It was a south swell and the surge in the harbor was stronger than anything he'd seen. It was his first year working out of Santa Cruz and his first year running his own boat. If he had known how big the waves were he'd have slept in and gone surfing instead, but he'd already caught more waves than fish that summer and still hadn't paid the July slip fee and here it was the 24th. more here