A late update on the weekend past, sporadically wave filled and otherwise a recovery from a fair bit of travel.

Using a work related visit to near the waves I managed to slyly slide into a few blue walls on Friday, and repeated the same on Saturday as the empty house beckoned me to abandon it to wintry wind that spelt offshore and groomed on a not so distant shore.

I've been back on the six two lately and trying out some new C-drive fins that I must say are really worth the effort to get used to. Oddly shaped but with great logic behind them, these things are truly the duck's nuts, and I am managing, when the cold doesn't cause the old waist down gone wandering, to pull some of the best turns I have done in many a long year. They may be down at lowers and sans witness, but my feet are telling me magic is happening, and the sight and sound of that sheet of water disappearing off the top or in a cutback tells me some happy tales.

MC has been converted to them through Ross Clarke-Jones, who is using them on his tow boards and is utterly sold.

Continuing the ad filled direction of this post, I've included HERE the why of my trip near the coast, to present what I'm calling the first of my MiniDocs. Little stories about passionate people doing their thing.

I tried to put it up as a video but because of the damned cropping that happens if you want to take a look just click the link.

Shots today: Winki and Bells over the weekend. Not that big, but a whole lot of fun and surprisingly uncrowded, though there was a wait between sets.

I sometimes regret saying what a week that was.

Having dropped young Tom off at the airport not expecting to see him for weeks, I get a call last Wednesday week from Richard Tognetti, over in California at the Ojai Music Festival.

Get over here Mick, it's bigger than Ben Hur and you should be here to present your film.

Bugger me you come up with some crap Rich, are you sure?

Come!

So a rapid realisation that my passport had run out had me running around like a blue arsed fly trying to sort that, entry, tickets and blow me down if I wasn't on the same flight as Tom one week later.

Red eyed and bewildered I hopped a bus north to Ventura, then a taxi to Ojai and straight into a massive concert, watched waves of rapturous applause bathe Richard and the ACO, and came to the stunning realisation that they are even more incredible than I thought, and then, near collapse, had to get a rest. I was staying with Richard and Satu, at a lovely house right on a point not far from Rincon, and when I spotted little two foot peelers up the point I thought, where's a board, where's a board?

In the shed a whole rack as it turned out so into the wetty (yes I did throw it in) and out for an hour and a half loll about in lieu of a sleep, had a pod of dolphins hang out with old fatboy, plus a seal who looked at me rather strangely when I said 'Oi!' Caught four or five nice little peelers on the red nine six too.

Better than a sleep, then back in for the night performances, more of the same btilliance, look up the festival. The line up was the cream of the music world. Then Sunday, my turn came as I presented the film, packed house, turned away 50-80 I'm told, and a lot of renewed interest. Where it goes I'm not sure but it gave me renewed hope for the sequel we are planning next year.

Then a big surprise the next day as I went south, surprised the ratbag son in his luxury skate dood pad with jacuzzi and pool, met his World Champ buddy and saw he was as happy as a pig in a big pile of shite, though he did say 'what the hell are you doing here Dad?' as I had given him no indication I was showing up.

Sneaker old bugger aren't I?

Then more trains, planes and automobiles, all the way back to good old OZ.

Big Week. Knackered.

Pics: Concerts, boards, queues to see my film and young Tom ( I hate smiling at cameras) with the champ, Brian Aragon. Nice chap too.

What a weekend.

If you've ever read this blog before you'll be aware of my depilatory (as in I lose hair over him) younger son, Hell Boy, The Devil Incarnate, Skate Demon, my darling Tommy.

Over the past weeks we've been debating an offer we've had and this Saturday he flew off to LA to spend a couple of months skating with and being filmed with some of the best skaters in the world. They obviously have a high opinion of him, it will do him a world of good in so many ways, and be a grand introduction to the big wide world.

Staying in the San Diego area, if you see a tousle headed, low riding ratbag about ten feet in the air and possibly upside down... that is Tom.

Say hi if you do.

Free of worrying about what he is up to next I had a run at the water. Saturday I got to Bells, spotted my mate Maurice in the car park and this shiny red 5'11 he'd been riding. Hmmmm...

Can I have a go mate... I'll drop it by the house after...

No worries he says.

Then he fixes me with one of those blisteringly beady eyes he has.

Now don't ding it, don't stick it on top of the car and drive off without tying it on, stay away from any major storms, and bring it home safe.

Hoooweee.. she'll be apples, says I.

Out there and just getting the feel of it, a couple of small ones then this nice outside set on the Rincon bubble comes through.. I'm in the spot, take off and woops a young surfer without too much experience panics as old fatty takes off and ditches the board right in front of me, pushing it into my line as a dark and fearful little head disappears under water.

Naturally, I jump over the top, not wanting ANY damage to MC's board.

Under water the familiar tug doesn't eventuate at all, and I surface to the horror of a leggie string that has come undone while the board is having a fine ride of its own right into the rocks of High Tide Bells.

Sprint swimming and rock hopping like a demented frog I got to the now completely trashed speed machine with a sinking heart.

I couldn't have done better with an axe and a couple of ball peen hammers.

So back to the car to change boards as I had to delay the inevitable, and I still wanted to get a few. Taking the finless out this time, I did have some fun and did get one very memorable one into the shorebreak but, to be honest, my heart was not in it any more.

Skulking back to Maurice's, he was just waking up for his afternoon nap in front of the football.

How'd ya go? Good board aye?

Bloody great mate but.....

Don't tell me, just stick it in the back of the car...

No mate you better have a look, and besides it was your string that came undone, grovel, snivel, make excuses.

God bless him, I lived to get in the car and drive home.

Next day, corduroy to the horizon, five foot and very lovely, I had three hours in a strong offshore, some good, some bad, I do need a bigger than 6-2 when it gets bigger.

Pics: My young Tom wacking the camera and saying don't be a goose Dad as I try to take his picture at the airport, and the fun waves pre and post surf yesterday.