Musica Surfica is days away from being on sale. About an hour ago I saw first proofs of the packaging, a little dark, so I've just completed those changes and sent them off. As a sneak peak for you denizens of my little blog, here is the box in a hurriedly done photoshop facsimile of the real deal.

Next time you see it I hope it is in your hot little hands.

If that ain't a hint my name is Mr Potato Head.

Details of where how to get those hands on a copy will be linked to this entry in the next day or so.

A warm and balmy weekend with a small swell and occasionally tasty sets rolling in at Woolamai, that beach of the triangular banks and limpid skies. At least, that was what it was like on Saturday.

Seems it was the first such period of well shaped sandbanks for a quite bit according to the locals, but our timing was impeccable as they were... everywhere. You couldn't photograph a bad wave... well you could if my lumpen flesh was shambling across it, but the surf gods were smiling as there were waves and banks for everyone.

No lineup too crowded, happy smiling faces and it weren't too bad at all.

Nice change from the rest of the world.

I hope the odd stockbroker was in the water attempting to relax in the face of Financial Armageddon.

Other news... we mastered the soundtrack to Musica Surfica on Thursday, all is at the printers and it'll be on sale in about three weeks...

Links soon for those souls anxious to get a copy... which naturally I hope is everyone who reads this blog times about six million.

If that happened then I'd Buy the Banyaks and put in a super fast web connection to my chosen isle so that I could still do SafetoSea and have the odd gloat.

Since it's unlikely I'll just have to settle with sitting in the boy's old kiddie bath in the backyard while Sue splashes me with warm water and Joey belts me over the head with a piece of coral.

Bliss.

Cripes!

Two posts in two days though today's has nothing to do with my projects save to say it is to do with my two life projects... ie the kids.

My little bloke Tommy (13) is a mad keen blader, of the streety, try and kill himself any way he can kind. I'd love it if he surfed more, but the concrete is his love and great skateboarder that he is he loves the blades even more. Woe betide the poor soul who calls him a fruitbooter though as I'd hate to see the consequences. He may be small and wiry, but boy is he a handful. (That's another story)

So, the other day Tom says "check this Dad" and there he is on Vimeo in a clip for a new movie coming out.. featuring in part... him.

Well I have to say I am a proud old fart.

So here's a link to the clip and the rascal at the beginning, the little one darting about.... that's Tom.

Then there's Joey.

Tom's polar opposite, Joe is our first born gentle giant. At just sixteen he's 6'2" and over 190lbs, which makes him just under a foot taller than Tom and draws, draws, draws. When he's not drawing he's thinking about it, playing basketball, growing muscles or avoiding romantic entanglement.

I poked around to find a something he's done and found this little sketch he did of Linkin Park.

Summers approaching and the school sport program is nearly finished.

Soon they'll be coming for a surf with me too.

Happy days.

New York still sticking in my head a bit... especially after seeing a film last night that was set there and was current. Just seeing the ambiance of the place had me thinking.

During my wanderings, during the days killing time for the nights, I naturally had the snapper handy and what caught my eye was not the big buildings or the flash. More, the patina of life that stuck to the walls, the ideas plastered about, the fucked up roads and the scale of things.

If ya going to stick something to a wall, or paint it... paint it BIG.

So it made an impression. What can I say?

Today's shots, a few from New York. More to come, rest assured.

Surf shots from yesterday's would you believe abortive session. Zigged when I should have zagged, ending up surfing a crowded, crappy left with a too strong for it's distance from shore offshore, and got out of the water grumpy. As if I need grumpy at my age.

Dad you're just a grump, my kid's say sometimes...

Deep breathing exercises on the way home to arrive with a smile.

Didn't work.

Hmmmmph.

The other shots were a little spot I checked on the way back. No time to get in but it was full of potential, no one out, swell a bit big for it but I would of had fun. I just know.

New York.

I'm not finished with it yet.

My first stop there was the Mollusk Shop.

My opinion, though perhaps coloured by the novelty of the experience, is that it is the Best Little Surf Shop I've ever been in. Beautiful boards, artful clothes, art on the wall, and the books for sale were not just surf rat stuff.

Deep thought meets some pretty hard core surfers.

The guys were smart, interested and welcoming and to top it off there was good art being made upstairs, behind, next door and on the walls. Even the pavement was a delight.

Downsides.

The river smelt a bit manky but the gasometers helped mask the smell, and I'm told they work well as a movie screen.

One day I hope to make it back and health and wealth to the good souls working there.

To Chris and Mike, thanks guys, for both looking after me with boards, the guided tour upstairs and having me over to show our flick.

Oops another gap in posting but I've just been flat out since I got back from New York.

Finally, yesterday I got a much awaited clear space to the coast. As usual it was a west coast run and noticed Bells though quite good had a fair crowd, the wind was a bit from the north and Rich and I decided to 'have a little explore".

Just ten minutes away is a spot that I've driven past for all my surfing life, but on this particular day, on this particular swell, we both thought "lets have a look at...."

So out and about, down a side road, along a little track through some recently burnt out bushland and BINGO, at the bottom of a not to be sneezed at cliff were the most delightful peaks, not big, but fast, hollow and, joy of joys, uncrowded.

Naturally we proceeded to fall into our wetsuits and try hard not to fall down the cliff as we made our way to the delights below.

A strong offshore was tempered for most of the time to near glassiness by said cliffs, and three hours later we both staggered out of the water having caught more waves in a session than I can remember for many a long day.

It's amazing too how much more relaxed I felt in familiar territory.

For some godforsaken reason I'm always slower, more tentative and feel just plain weird at new spots, (ie NY) and really don't do myself justice, but just me and Rich and a couple of others and suddenly I felt freer than I had for ages.

It's all in the mind I know.

And on the way back, I paused to sniff the flowers that surrounded us, a reminder that summer is about to spring upon us, although you wouldn't know today. Cold, wet and windy.

Ahh Victoria.

Well what a week it's been.

All a bit of a blur really, what with the effects of jet lag never really leaving as I lurched from time zone to time zone.

After some 25 hours in the plane I arrived in New York, and promptly got the cab to what seemed to me to be a logical first base as at least there would be, though not familiar faces, at least friendly ones. The Mollusk Surf Shop in Williamsburg was that Port of Call and I have to say it is without doubt the most unusually placed, friendliest little surf shop I have ever been in. Tiny and full of Beautiful Surf Craft, the guys in there were welcoming and enthusiastic, especially given I had arrived with a brand new Maurice Cole thruster that had been ordered by Mike, one of the guys who both worked at Mollusk and helped organise the New York Surf Film Festival.

On hand also was the shops owner, Chris Gentile, artist and gentleman, who, as both, allowed me the pleasure of an upstairs art studio tour and offered a choice of his extensive and eclectic board collection if luck smiled on me and I scored some swell.

There also I met Tyler Breuer who was to feature prominently in the following days.

Then on to the hotel in Chinatown,and my first sight of the Big Apple which caused jaw rash as said appendage dragged along the freeway on our approach. The place is just massive. It was raining and late, the lights were on and just an incredible, impressive sight as I crossed the bridge from Brooklyn to downtown Manhattan.
The next day, I had hours to kill until the Festival so a rain soaked walk and and a visit to MOMA, and later a pre festival meeting at Tribeca before the evening showing of Musica Surfica.

Somewhere in there I was interviewed out on the footpath by Will from Fuel TV, while being watched by a guy peeing on the wall, and later expressing his stoke that he could observe a Fuel Interview in progress.

A unique experience for me, and only in New York.

There also I met Ras and Dave from Phoresia, who turned out to be lovely guys and great company over the couple of days they were there. Good surfers both as I discovered, but also good humoured, and passionately involved people. Thinkers as well and a pleasure to share a day or two with. New Friends.

Later that night, the Musica Surfica screening, which was very well received, followed by a long Q&A with Tyler and an enquiring audience. To say I was a little nervous would be kind, but it seems my excessive sweating and hand wringing went unobserved.

The next day a surf run with the Phoresia boys, courtesy of boards supplied by Chris of Mollusk, with me having the pleasure of a Christenson bonzer which proved an enlightening ride in the 3-4 foot crunchiness of Long Island. Much better waves than I could have expected as a hurricane swell arrived in perfect synchronicity for the NYSFF.

That night, festival time, and me being introduced to the delight of the Vodka Red Bull by Franke from France's Xtreme Video, this in an attempt to keep me awake as by then the jet lag had me in its' grip as I slept through film after film. Not being rude or disinterested, but I was just so shagged.

Sunday, another surf run , this time courtesy of Mark Temme, maker of The Rocks. Mark was a loud, motor mouth gem of a guy, a well traveled and world interested New York surfer, we had a ball, and the waves were good.

I always suffer from new spot weirdness, I rarely surf well (for me) straight up, but amidst all this managed to get a couple of nice ones, and my singular impression of New York surf and surfers is... way friendlier than they have a right to be, and they were way better than I expected. They have barrels in sight of the skyscrapers, and it was one of the most unique surf experiences of my life.

Awards Night.

Held at the Red Bull Space a block or so away from Tribeca, and I felt quite the odd one out as an Old Fart in a Sea of Youth. Just settled in for a quiet watch of the proceedings and the odd chat when Tyler B gets up to announce the Awards and the winner was... Musica Surfica!

You could of knocked me down with a feather and I managed to get through the speech without making a complete dick of myself but I'm not sure I thanked everyone I should have and I can barely remember what I said.

Later got hugged by girls of an age I haven't been hugged by since before they were born and I didn't complain one bit.

Great, surprising night in a wonderful city.

Next stop LA but next post more on New York as I haven't finished but wanted to get something down quickly. My apologies if this all sounds a bit lacking in flow but I can barely see for jetlag.