Previously:

Village Council members Sarah & Ines were informed of the special meeting scheduled for the coming afternoon by Hiram, Sr. and Mayor Maggie—and that the Tribal Elders would be there. There were few details, but the reason was relatively serious and would be revealed by the Elders at the meeting.

“I wonder what is going on?” Sarah yawned.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Ines replied, “But for now, I don’t even want a mojito…I’m heading home.”

Chapter XI, Episode 2:

At the Cabin-on-the-Rock, Boomer was writing and drawing for the next day’s episode of Danger Bay when Daisy stopped snoring, stretched and yawned once or twice and started to wag her tail.

“Good morning lazy hound, sleep in much?”

“I’d like to go outside, so I don’t go inside Alpha-Jack—if you don’t mind.”

Down the hall in Lyle “Cob” Pettigrew’s room a similar exchange occurred as Wingnut awoke. They met in the Greatroom.

They met in the Greatroom

“Mornin’ Cob, sleep well?”

“I did after the bunk quit moving…it’s good to get my land-legs back.”

Down in the village yet another “sea-dog” awoke from his slumber and made clear his need to go outside.

“Okay, Pepper, outside it is,” Sarah said as Pepper stretched & yawned his way downstairs to the back door of Cooper’s General Store.

And across the bay at PawZ, Buttons was out in the yard taking care of business. All four dogs soon stopped their sniffing and stretching and yawning as they heard the distant howl of a wolf.

The howl was unmistakable—it was Wolvenking Ringo! He was calling for a parley at Wolvenmoot, and all Knights-of-the Realm must attend. The four critters informed their respective Alpha-Humans and scampered into the forest towards Wolvenmoot.

“I wonder if the call to Wolvenmoot has anything to do with the meeting at the Rez today. Boomer?”

“I thought that was a combined tribal & village council meeting.”

“They want me, the marshal, Hiram, Jr. and Deputy McCoy there as well—something is up.”

The four “Canine-Knights-of-the-Realm” met up on the way to

On the way to Wolvenmoot

Wolvenmoot—a precaution they’d agreed upon, as they were never sure if the outlaw wolf Renegade continued to lurk in the forest.

“What do you suppose is going on, Daisy?”

“I have no clue, Pepper.”

“Alpha-Cob is going to the reservation for a meeting…maybe…”

“Maybe WE will have an adventure, Wingnut!”

“Be careful what you wish for, Buttons,” PepperCooper cautioned his diminutive friend.

Indeed Buttons—INDEED!

To be Continued…Danger Bay is taking Christmas off…we’ll return on Monday the 28^th!

Comments Always Welcomed & Encouraged!

Please visit photographer Carol Lundeen’s web site or blog, or telephone for information and availability for photography coverage of your wedding, family, pet, or children in the Cape Cod, Boston, South Shore, North Shore areas.

Carol Lundeen photography web site

Carol Lundeen Photography original blog

(617) 327-9254

Previously:

After much discussion, the Council of Elders decided the problem would require meeting with the entire Village Council, and with the Wolvenking Ringo—his help would be beneficial. Hiram was tasked with arranging that before Christmas.

Lt. Silverthorn’s communicator chirped, and he excused himself to take the call, “Eltee, the…

“BBBBBBBBOOM!” the combined gun-batteries of the Falcon spoke, obliterating the message and rendering it unnecessary.

The Falcon had returned!

Chapter XI, Episode 1:

The Falcon, under the expert guidance of helmsman Patch, glided silently to her berth at the pier, where she was quickly secured—the crew anxious to regain their collective land-legs. The crew finished their on-board duties with dispatch and all were soon ashore. Most went directly home.

Cob, notorious in his Navy years for his ability to party at the drop of an excuse, noticed the lights coming from the Silverthorn & Farkleberry homes along the West Pier…

“Looks like you’re off the hook, Ines,” he said, “It appears the party is at the saltboxes.”

“I would have opened Swigs, but I’ll just go where the party is.”

“All I want to do is sleep in a bed resting on a floor that doesn’t move.”

“It’s only 12:30, Jack, you’d be up in an hour or so anyway—you are coming with us. You too, Cooper.”

“Oh, I have to go, Ines, but will probably be the guy snoring in a corner.”

“I get dibs on a corner too,” Sarah yawned, “I won’t snore though.”

“We have to pass by there on our way home,” Karen said, “We may as well stop in, Doc.”

“Lead the way—old Hiram has never been able to out-party me and it certainly won’t happen now.”

“Doc, I can see we still have much to learn—I never thought of you as a party animal.

“Not so much any more, but m’dear Karen, I can tell such stories…”

“Oh dear.”

The party was beginning to wind down when the “sailors” arrived and within the hour people were mostly on their way home. After the welcome homes to the Falcon crew and birthday wishes to the twins were exchanged, the party was over.

Village Council members Sarah & Ines were informed of the special meeting scheduled for the coming afternoon by Hiram, Sr. and Mayor Maggie—and that the Tribal Elders would be there. There were few details, but the reason was relatively serious and would be revealed by the Elders at the meeting.

“I wonder what is going on?” Sarah yawned.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Ines replied, “But for now, I don’t even want a mojito…I’m heading home.”

To be Continued…

Comments Always Welcomed & Encouraged!

Tucked away in Huntington Station NY is a small condo community called Huntington Glen.

These townhomes are located just past the Huntington Country Farms community, in a small cul-de-sac of only 10 homes.  There are garages, a basement, central air conditioning and gas heat in these condos.  Situated on Chimay Ct in the South Huntington School District #3, Huntington Glen had a sale, according to public records in July ‘09 for $435,000 for a 3 bedroom 2.5 bath residence.

If you would like to buy a residence in Huntington Station Long Island, or any other community on The North Shore of Long Island,  please contact LARRY AND SHEILA Realtors with Charles Rutenberg Realty. Perhaps you would like to sell your present home and want to list it with Larry & Sheila.  We can feature it on our popular websites, so call us at 631-805-4400.  Are you relocating to The North Shore of Long Island?  We are Certified Relocation Specialists!

Email: sheila@suffolkexperts.com

http://www.suffolkexperts.com

We are not affiliated with this community, but are  independent Licensed  Realtors.

We do not have any information on managment or phone numbers for this community.

All content text is the exclusive property of Suffolk Experts, and may not be used without the expressed written permission of Larry & Sheila. All information is believed to be accurate but is not guaranteed.

Previously:

“Helmsman, how long to port?” Cob asked.

“Dawn by sail, midnight by motor,” Patch replied.

“Captain?”

“Make it so, Cob.”

“Drop sails, secure yards, and fire up the engine,” Cob ordered, “Helm, set a course for home!”

The powerful bio-diesel engine rumbled to life and with a “bone in her teeth” (the bow wave), the Falcon soon reached her maximum hull-speed.

The Council of Elders held court in the office at the Silverthorn home—there was a growing problem, not only on the reservation, but county-wide, that required their immediate attention…

Chapter X, Return, Episode 8:

“Cap’n, Port off the starb’d bow! We’re about ten miles out.”

“Aye, Daisy. Cob—shall we sail home?”

“Aye Cap’n, we’ll make a grand entrance. All hands set sails! Helmsman, set a course and grab us some wind!”

“Aye Cob, coming about, ten degrees right rudder!”

“Hold that course for five miles, helm. Daisy, we’ll come about then and should be able to enter port with no further tacks.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” Patch and Daisy replied in unison.

“Should we charge the guns and announce our return?”

“Cob, it’ll be midnight—of COURSE we should wake the village,” Ines laughed.

“Cap’n?”

“Only if Ines buys a round of drinks—for all who show up to greet us…”

“One each—only,” Ines replied knowing there would be those for whom one is not enough, especially among the crew.

“Charge the guns, Cob.”

Gathering

At the twin “saltbox” homes, the birthday party continued, no one seemed to notice the absence of the Council of Elders, including Samuel Silverthorn one of the two birthday boys. Simply put—it was not often the villagers had an excuse for such a party.

“Eltee” (the cops’ nickname for “LT.” Hiram Silverthorn Jr.) was extolling the formidable virtues of the new squad car and spoiling for a race against the powerful Chrysler 300 used by the ICE agents, and bets were being placed as to the outcome. Boys will be boys—even if the boys are cops. Who knew?

After much discussion, the Council of Elders decided the problem would require meeting with the entire Village Council, and with the Wolvenking Ringo—his help would be beneficial. Hiram was tasked with arranging that before Christmas.

Lt. Silverthorn’s communicator chirped, and he  excused himself to take the call, “Eltee, the…

“BBBBBBBBOOM!”

the combined gun-batteries of the Falcon spoke, obliterating the message and rendering it unnecessary.

The Falcon Returns

The Falcon had returned!

Thus ends Chapter X of our chronicle, but the story will be Continued…

Comments Always Welcomed & Encouraged!

Previously:

The cops gathered around Lt. Silverthorn’s new squad, and after a very thorough inspection decided it would be adequate for the job (high praise), and then the conversation drifted into the usual cop-shop-talk.

The Tribal Council was also there, not just to honor Sam Silverthorn, their newest member, on his birthday, but as an excuse to attend to some serious business with the Village Council—business that could change the relationship between the band and the village…

Chapter X, Return, Episode 8:

The Falcon was less than a day away from home, and everyone aboard was anxious to make landfall—it had after all, been a most interesting experience. Ines & Sarah had businesses to attend, Big Mac missed his lovely bride, Collie who had been making noises about a visit home to Shelby County, Alabama over Christmas, Cob was concerned about his duties as Harbormaster, not that he didn’t trust young Silverthorn who had been covering for him, Cob just needed to get back to his job.  Daisy, PepperCooper and Wingnut all wanted some time in the forest with Wolvenking Ringo and the Knights of the Realm. Finally Doc and Karen not only had their respective businesses to deal with, but even more importantly, had to combine households. After all, they had been married now for 197 years—it was about time they decided where to live.

On the Quarter Deck

“This has been a very-long voyage, Cap’n,” Mac rumbled, “I can’t see landfall soon enough.”

“It has. I’m getting tired of the floor constantly moving under my feet.”

“It won’t stop when you go ashore,” Cob laughed, “It will be a while before you get your land-legs back.”

“Oh—I know, I’ve been there before. The wobbly terra-firma will end soon enough, though.”

“Helmsman, how long to port?” Cob asked.

“Dawn by sail, midnight by motor,” Patch replied.

“Captain?”

“Make it so, Cob.”

“Drop sails, secure yards, and fire up the engine,” Cob ordered, “Helm, set a course for home!”

The powerful bio-diesel engine rumbled to life and with a “bone in her teeth” (the bow wave), the Falcon soon reached her maximum hull-speed.

The Council of Elders held court in the office at the Silverthorn home—there was a growing problem, not only on the reservation, but county-wide, that required their immediate attention…

Meeting at the Silverthorn home

To be Continued…

Comments Always Welcomed & Encouraged!

I’ve been going to the North Shore Yoga Co-op ever since I got here, and I feel I need to write about how wonderful it is.

The classes are by donation, and they accept donations on the honor system. They don’t ask for a dollar amount, like the metropolitan museum’s “$15 donation” admission. It really is a pay-what-you-can system. Which I think is wonderful, because I have no job and can’t pay much. But one day, when I do have a job, I would feel honored to pay more, because the classes are so wonderful.

So, aside from the classes being affordable, they are held several times a day, at several different levels, and with these fantastic instructors. I have been to several different yoga classes in my life, but I feel now that I had never been to a real yoga class until now. The instructors have such a deep understanding of all of the positions, knowing exactly what adjustments each student needs to make to get deeper into the pose. There are so many poses that I had always done wrong, and a simple correction was all it took to get me to understand what my body was supposed to be feeling. But not only do they understand all of the poses, they instruct each class with a different routine, always leaving the body feeling balanced at the end. So they might be focusing on one part of the body during the class, but they know exactly what to do to make sure that during the final savasana you can clear your mind, instead of focusing on the pain in your knee or back or whatnot.

The part I like most (but also the part I didn’t go to yoga for  in the first place) is the spiritual aspect. They aren’t preaching anything or being forceful about the spiritual aspect, but many of the instructors invite you to set an intention for your practice that day. Often they will guide you even more. For example, today the instructor reminded us a few times to actively “let go”. Before the  savasana, she had us take a deep breath in, telling ourselves “Let”, and then while breathing out  tell ourselves “Go”.

Let Go. That simple instruction meant so much to me today, after having spent the past month trying to find a job, with hardly a nibble back. Tonight I had to realize that I need to just let go. I need to realize that there are times when all of my trying, all of my searching and calling and writing and searching some more, will not get me anywhere. I need to just let go, and accept that the doors that need to open will open when it is time. Obviously, now is not the time. And this is not to say that I should sit back and do nothing. I should still search and call and write, but now I can take the pressure off of myself. It will happen when it is supposed to happen. And if the money starts to run out, and still nothing is happening, I need to make a bigger change (like moving closer to town). But for now, I can just let go. It’s ok.

Needless to say,  I’m totally hooked on the North Shore Yoga Co-op. I look forward to yoga all day, and it is the best way for me to bring everything into perspective.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

It seems as if an eternity has passed since I last posted. I have burning the midnight oil the last week filling orders, baking test cookies, attending networking events, and taking care of business basics. It is truly amazing how well things are falling into place with Sweet Attila’s. At this point in time I am on track to open up the website for online sales mid January. To offer you a taste for what Sweet Attila’s will be offering I will add a menu. For now the best way to get a hold of me is through this blog. Just post a comment or idea; I would love to hear from you!

In addition to all the wonderful things going on I am scheduled to start baking this weekend for a photo shoot I have arranged for Monday. I hope to have the new pictures on the site when I launch online ordering next month.

 For those of you on Facebook – “Swett Attila’s A Bake Shop” has a fan page – become a fan today! We are also on Twitter as “SweetAttilas” sign up to follow our tweets.

 My husband Bobby is a nicknamer.  He nicknames people so well that I hardly notice when he’s doing it; I just start calling the person by the new name as if whatever he’s calling them is their actual name. 

I am not a clever nicknamer.  If I nickname someone, it usually means that I either call them by their last name like Mills or Kane or I call them a short version of their first name like Ellie or Holls.  I rarely give anyone a real nickname myself.  My nickname for Bobby is Bobber and he gave that name to himself.  I just went along with it. 

 When our kids were born, it was Bob’s idea to plan their full names so that they could easily be nicknamed when they become famous college or professional athletes later in life (no pressure guys).  So our son Mac’s fully name is Xavier McCarthy Crismond, giving him the ability to morph into the X-Man or X-Mac.  And baby Charlie aka Charles Duke Crismond will someday inevitably be known as Charlie “The Duke” Crismond.  I know a lot of parents and other people seem to have just picked a name they liked for their kids.  How lame is that?  Not every parent has the creativity and forethought of the Bobber.

Last weekend we got a babysitter and went out with some of our pals for a few Christmas drinks.  I was talking to one guy about where his brother was and he didn’t know.  Several minutes later Bobby told me the brother was on his way so I said to our friend

 “Dossenpepper is picking up Bitchard.  They’re on the way”.  

 First our friend chuckled because everyone loves Bobby’s nickname for Rich. 

 Then he said “Dossenpepper?  Who? What?  Is Dossenpepper?”

 So I had to explain that Bobby’s friend Mike Moran nicknamed Rossi “Dossenfeffer”.  No one knows why.  And then Mac changed it to Dossenpepper which combines Dossenfeffer with the name Pepper.  

With a name like Chauncey I would have been a star!

 Pepper is a little green dog that was supposed to be the Discovery KIDS mascot but ended up just being a nickname we gave to everyone we worked with when I was at Discovery.  For the record, Bobby thought the dog should have been named Chauncey.  He was probably right.

 Dossenpepper’s nickname for Bobby is the Big Bear which is so incredibly gay, right? Why my husband’s friend has a nickname for him that is synonymous with homosexual pornography aimed at burly lumberjacks I have no idea. 

The Big Bear and Dossenpepper

One of our many nicknames for our son Charlie is Barletunes.  We call him this because when we brought him home from the hospital Mac called him Barley.  And Charlie really likes music – or you know, tunes.  So, obviously, we’re going to call him Barletunes. 

 I don’t even think about these names, I just pick them up and go along with them.  It becomes so natural that I even use them in public.  Last summer I was at the pool with Charlie and there was a little girl who was watching him.  I heard her mother say to her “why don’t you go on over and play with the little boy?  I think his name is Barleton” 

I thought to myself “Barleton?  What kind of stupid name is that?” and then I realized I was calling him Barletunes in public.  I didn’t correct her.

I mentioned before that Bobby nicknamed himself Bobber.  Normally, this would be a no no for me.  You can’t nickname yourself.  But Bobby is such an Olympic nicknamer that I realize he just couldn’t help himself.  His self nicknaming works.  I think this is about the only time in history that self nicknaming has ever been okay.

I have two other friends who tried to nickname themselves.  One went by Matt his whole life and then changed his name at eighteen to Kirby.  Bobby met him as Matt.  I met him as Kirby.  It took a long time for Bobby to get used to calling him Kirb but he did. 

Then Kirb decided to go back to Matthew.  We refused.  To this day when I meet a child named Matthew I always say to Bobby “so obviously, his nickname is Kirby, right?”  I’m not very good at letting things go.

Same goes for my friend Turtle.  He showed up at college and told us that his friends at home had nicknamed him Turtle after the character in the 1987 surfing movie North Shore, starring Nia Peeples.  So, we all called him Turtle.  Then one of his friends from home came to visit and asked me why everyone in college called Pete “Turtle”.  Apparently, Pete had always wanted a nickname so he gave one to himself when he moved East.  Later he grew up and returned to Pete.  I, however, will refer to him as Turtle until the day I die.

"Here on the North Shore we treat friends mo better"

And while we’re on it, Sean Combs, your name is Sean Combs.  I’ll even call you Puff Daddy because apparently your mom gave you the nickname Puff due to all your ‘huffing and puffing” as a child and that sounds true to your character.  But I’m not calling you P Diddy or Diddy cause you made those names up.  Got it?

Hey Sean, stop huffing and puffing like a little baby

Nicknaming is an art.  And as lame as nicknames can sound to the outside world (Bobby calls me Poodle, we call my dad Doodle and we call our oldest son Mac-N-Poodle, and yes, I know how queer it all sounds), they are such an important part of our relationships.    Even names like Bitchard and Tom Petty (one of my favorites for Bobby’s friend Tom) are said with the fondness of people who know you well and have loved you long.  So thanks nicknamers, especially you, oh great one.  You do a service for all of us.

Previously:

Medlar Farkleberry just smiled…

Aboard the Falcon, now on course for the Port of Danger Bay, Cap’n Jack & Daisy were acclimating to their new accommodations in the crew quarters, having surrendered the spacious Master’s cabin to the newlyweds—it was the right thing to do.

Somewhere just north of the border, René LaFarge was into his third week of indoctrination…er…retraining of Ace Schwarzkopf—it was going very well and soon Big A would have a reliable thug…er…operative for the next stage of his “master plan” to take over Danger Bay…

Chapter X, Return, Episode 7:

René LaFarge at first wasn’t certain he could do much with this “Ace” fellow, the man seemed to be quite unsure of himself, his bravado an act to impress his older brother and sister, both of whom dominated his life. They made all the decisions, belittled his ideas when he was brave enough to offer his thoughts—this was going to be difficult. But now after three weeks of “re-education,” there was a glimmer of hope, as Ace was beginning to show signs that he could be both subtle and assertive. This would play better with Allen Simpson than with Millie Gamboge, who was a controlling bitc…in his estimation.

But Simpson was the boss, and the only one whose opinion mattered—so far. LaFarge was convinced there was a power-struggle going on between Simpson & Gamboge, and he was placing his bets on Simpson, for good or ill.

The Silverthorn’s and Farkleberry’s had very quietly planned a fortieth birthday party for the twins and after the requisite fuss over the squad car, they invited all to their homes for the celebration. The two families lived next door to one-another, and had for more than a century, in identical New England-style saltbox homes built by the first Farkleberry in the 1860’s. Soon the guests began to gather for the party.

"Soon the guests began to gather for the party."

Soon, with a few notable exceptions, everyone who is anyone, in and around Eagle Point Township was at the party. Those exceptions included anyone of the Simpson-Gamboge Cartel. That was a mistake in judgment on their part—they could have gathered some useful intelligence on the changes coming in the law-enforcement community.

The cops gathered around Lt. Silverthorn’s new squad, and after a very thorough inspection decided it would be adequate for the job (high praise), and then the conversation drifted into the usual cop-shop-talk.

The Tribal Council was also there, not just to honor Sam Silverthorn, their newest member on his birthday, but as an excuse to attend to some serious business with the Village Council—business that could change the relationship between the band and the village…

To be Continued…

Comments Always Welcomed & Encouraged!

One recent fine morning I happened upon this scene of a girl contemplating the scenery in front of her.  The wall where she is sitting is at the northern end of Takapuna Beach on Auckland’s North Shore and is one of the most popular walking and bathing spots in the city.  I think this greyscale image captures the mood of the moment.

Sony Alpha DSLR – A200, Sony 17-55mm kit lens at 60mm, 1/80 sec, F11, ISO 100

A popular game of old that has fallen out of fashion in recent years is Bull Rush.  The person in the middle has to tag or tackle as many as possible during a series of mass Bull Rushes until there is no-one left to capture.  Kids love it but risk-averse parents are not comfortable with the game. The version played here was of the “tag” variety and the kids had a ball trying to evade the dads in the middle.

Two small children sit and watch as the game rages around them.

Sony Alpha DSLR – A200, 1/20 sec F22, ISO 100, SigmaDC 18-200mm zoom lens at 22mm

This is where I was back in April of 2009 as I wandered through the crowd on the beaches below the college town of Isla Vista at what was to be an annual clandestine party called Floatopia. Since then Floatopia has pretty much been deflated by the Santa Barbara County Board of Supervisors with the decision to permanently ban alcohol consumption on Isla Vista beaches. As someone who regularly surfs by the point at the end of that picture, I can appreciate the prevention of trash being left behind since Floatopia has a very disastrous environmental footprint. While the decision to ban alcohol seems excessive, the decision has me wondering about the management of our beaches. Who gets to say who comes and goes and what they can do.

Despite being a free-flowing, open ended and amorphous gathering of people, by most standards Floatopia’s excess would be regarded as a tragedy of the commons. The unavailability of access, the externalities of waste and destruction matched others beaches whose utility is diminished by excessive overcrowding. Imagine trying to surf at this beach in China. It’s just not going to happen:

Most of us will never see beaches with crowds like this but for the rest of us, the question is how do we manage our own beaches without forfeiting the commons? David Bollier’s article at Onthecommons.org titled ‘A Surfing Commons in Hawaii‘ praises the “localism” of the Wolfpak as an example of managing the commons by a new generation of Hawaiian surfers stemming from Da Hui who have assumed a de facto role to police some of Hawaii’s most popular surf spots; most notably Pipeline.  While I often agree with Bollier, I don’t think he fully understands what I will call a “tragedy of the surfing commons” or what localism as a solution ultimately entails.

Bollier appears to have constructed his praise almost entirely on an article (which he cites in the piece) from the New York Times entitled ‘Rough Waves, Tougher Beaches‘ by Matt Higgins, who in turn seems informed by the commercial content that has come down the surfing-capitalist pike such as documentary Bustin’ Down the Door (detailing the conflict between the commercial surfing world and Hawaiian locals) and other web media (such as videos of fights on the North Shore).  I’m not saying these sources are misinformed about the threat of overcrowding, but I want to make it clear that they all share origins to a marketable and image-based form of knowledge that is produced around such figures as The Wolfpak and Hawaii’s marketable pseudo-tribal form of localism. In turn it is the problem of the localism that is brought on and how that becomes a threat to a surfing commons.

So why focus on The Wolfpak?  The Wolfpak have a different reputation depending on who you ask.  Some see them as counter-colonial heroes to emulate, others view them as thugs who are hogging surfing spots under false pretenses. Bollier had this to say about The Wolfpak:

The Wolfpak constitutes a commons because it is a social collective that manages usage of this scarce local resource that its members cherish and use themselves. They are protective of it and each other, and have evolved their own rules for the orderly, fair use of the resource and community stability.

The problem with this argument is that it ignores the role a gang or cartel may have by acting as the decision makers for a common property regime.  If a cartel allows for “fair use” under certain limited grants of access, they are still nevertheless a cartel.  It would be like making the mistake by saying just because a record company allowed you to download a song on your computer, they no longer had a monopoly on content.  They still possess the rights and can control exclusion, so unless you have entry into that record company to determine who can and can’t access the song, it’s still a protective mechanism of a cartel to control access. In other words, let’s say hypothetically the company only wanted to allow you to download it at certain times when the download speeds were slow because they wanted better speeds to be prioritized for their friends. So while you have to wait for the bandwidth swell to go flat, they’ve let all their friends download at times when the speed is high. You’re essentially waiting, if even allowed, to get the slim pickings of the bunch. Now the parity between both examples isn’t exact as it could be argued it’s in the interest of the record company to promote the song regardless (as they profit from promotion), whereas for The Wolkpak it’s not in their interest to promote their spot (and they lose space from promotion). However in terms of either acting as a social collective, you have to question what dues have to be paid to join the gang or company and furthermore how you would make your way up the gang or companies hierarchy to have input in that decision process.

What is true is that The Wolfpak do in fact manage a scarce resource.  The North Shore is a mecca for surfing and has been for decades.  Surfers who have their own tragedy of the commons at their local breaks flock en masse to spots like Pipeline hoping to get a spot in the crowded lineup just for the chance of a wave so they can tell all their friends back home how they surfed Pipe.  But the question, much like the case of Floatopia, is what dangers these unintended guests cause and what to do if they leave the place a mess after their party?  The Wolfpak contend their beach cleanups and vigilance for “kooks” out in the water corrects this. However the reliance on this has resulted in a behavior that makes them feel like they are the rightful heirs to the waves.

No Lineup Should Be Regulated

For decades the surfing world has dealt with a wide range of encroachments on the surfing commons;  realty that hinders easements to beach access, runoffs and pollution by industrial modernization into a common space, a growing commercial interest in the sport that has expanded it into a marketable multi-million dollar pastime, and above all else the overuse of favored spots.  Despite that waves will always continue to break, surfing has witnessed a fast ascent into the tragedy of the commons. These matters have been treated by different interest through different structures to approach combating expansive growth, external pollutants and development of surfing commons.

Organizations such as the Surfrider Foundation have grown from collective efforts to preserve natural diversity through ecological principles aimed at protecting coastal commons and ensuring open access to surfers.  They have sometimes conjoined their efforts with the other end of the spectrum of state and local government’s regulatory process by seeking to council and promote ways to combat coastal growth that imfringes on the accessibility of surfing commons.  Surfrider thrives on being part of the community and relying on community volunteers to help with efforts. But above all else, they don’t take their position to protect the surfing commons by going out and regulating the lineup by telling people who can and can’t be surfing a certain break.

Surfline has a good “bill of rights” that dictates common knowledge about the surfing line-up. These unwritten rules are usually the same even when the vibe of the surf spot will differ. Any lineup is regulated by ad-hoc associations in the water. If someone is endangering the group they will be told off and in rare cases physically attacked. But for the most part this is pretty rare as surfers proceed to know the unwritten rules of the line-up and who is given right-of-way. Respect is also yielded to and sometimes given to regulars or those who also show respect for the lineup or beach. If someone isn’t allowing for this respect, it will be noticed as other surfers will try to take off inside of them and jockey for positions to prevent them from catching waves. The most important part as stated, it this is ad-hoc. it will differ from whoever is there at any given time.

The problem of allowing a cartel to basically camp out and dictate these rules or carry them out as The Wolfpak does at a break like Pipeline means they often use this advantageously to gang-up against outsiders or use their position as a cartel to hog the waves. Instead localism creates a conflict that doesn’t ease the jostling for waves but instead can shuts anyone off from even getting in the water. The rivaling of gangs has been something promoted through capitalism (I will use the term very loosely throughout) as an answer because it reflects the mindset of proprietorship that comes with the information cartels of intellectual property.

Capitalism Pulls Up and Wants You Out

Localism has had various faces in the realm of Hollywood. From being the leather clad villains in the campy 1960s pop-teen film Beach Blanket Bingo to mystically enlightened natives in the 1980s surf-cult-film North Shore.

Though Beach Blanket Bingo conveys the Malibu Rat Pack bikers as a threat to the beach party commons, their threat is one of pop-culture rivalry as opposed to something regulatory. Youth rivalries were settled in a “do or die” competition of sorts where the loser would be banished, never able to return. This reflected cultural evolution as dog-eat-dog when notions of what was changed from a greaser culture to surf culture pretty much came with the flick of a switch when Gidget came out and the sexes were able to interact in a past time that pushed the moral envelope by being able to show a lot of skin.

In the case of North Shore, we get a representation that goes beyond youth culture to dig into the history of Hawai’i and get closer to the representation of surfing-fraternization witnessed with The Wolfpak. In the film, Rick Kane is an outsider who goes to surf Hawai’i in a way much like the outsiders who came before him and brought competitive surfing to the state as documented in Bustin’ Down the Door. Rick is scorned as an outsider by everyone and comes to find his hero Lance Burkhart (played by surfing legend Laird Hamilton) is a representation of the threat that came to surfing and Hawai’i through forced annexation by the United States. This all coincides with Rick’s epiphany as channeled by his exotic love interest Kiani who happens to be family of Da Hui lead by Vince (played by Mr. Pipeline and surfing legend Gerry Lopez). Vince also steals Rick’s stuff earlier in the film as a symbolic taking that the Hui had occur to them by annexation. Da Hui are portrayed as exotic “noble savages” who have had their harmonious lives upset by the entrance of Burkhart and the competitive surfing world. Because of this, Vince represents a “surfing for the right reasons” and shapes the mind of Rick by the end of the film when he is finally integrated into the “familial tribe”.

This impression of eclectic nobility in the pseudo-tribalist surfing world has been a cornerstone of how Da Hui and The Wolfpak interpret themselves to be. But here’s the key difference. Since the time of North Shore, the corporate surfing world has set up shop on the door-step of what Da Hui once claimed to preserve and now have become a sponsored extension of their localism. The surf competitions and surf clothing manufacturers that once posed an imperialization of their waves have become the key promoters of the image to Hawai’is famed localism. As such, Da Hui and The Wolfpak have evolved into corporate brands.

If there is any better example of the marketing it’s in the short-lived FuelTV show The 808, which followed around The Wolfpak and their leader Kala Alexander, including an episode where Alexander went to a corporate surfing expo to market The Wolfpak’s clothing line.

Alexander is a protégé of the old Da Hui and in particular Eddie Rothman (the guy on the far left in the red hat) who despite not being native to Hawai’i is basically the CEO of Da Hui with an unofficial claim to the ownership of Da Hui’s image and logo. Both Rothman and Alexander embody the marketable hyper-masculine “tough guy” image that is associated with Hawaii’s localism. These muscular, tattooed and self-described warriors share synonymy to the world of Mixed Martial Arts fighters by promoting a thrash-and-bash life style of excessive rowdiness (which coincidentally Alexander is a practitioner of MMA-fighting, along with Wolfpak member Kai “Kaiborg” Garcia who is a championship fighter).

Alexander is the poster-child for what is “post-modern punk capitalism.” He is the “new native” and represents gangster-corporatism as a means of connoting power through localism.

Those like Kala Alexander, Eddie Rothman and Koby Abberton (Bra Boys) have constructed a forced “native” identity as an associative and implied-empowering product.  Something that has created a new wave in the mass culture of surfing that brings their attitudes to the mainstream as something marketable to no matter your locale. As if you too can embrace their identity politics as your own and become a tough guy like them. Companies like Billabong, Volcom, DaKine, Lost, Rockstar Energy, Monster Energy and Vans have all been able to capitalize off localist image-laden manufacturing. In doing so it’s created a reverse dynamic of “localist hegemony” that in turn reverberates to other communities who become overtaken by Hawaii’s localist culture. For example, in Santa Barbara, California some of these aforementioned surfing conglomerates have planted themselves in the community with retail shops that turn around and sell the localism that Da Hui has constructed. As a result it’s also created a threat to the true local surf shops of the area who can’t compete when the retailers occupy high-rent storefronts and are able to take a loss when their companies aren’t driven by how well that store performs. The identity of locals in Santa Barbara has adapted elements and symbolism of the image of Hawaii’s locals through a mimesis in purchasing the same styles of clothing they wear to convey the same localist attitude they have. If you can dress like them then you can hope to be like them.

It’s Not About the Benjamins

If the surfing community were to go the route of The Wolfpak, it would create diasporic elitism of pseudo-tribal-inspired localism throughout the surfing community. Maybe even chapters of The Wolfpak would appear in the continental United States or surf spots around the globe. It would be an encroachment by mass-produced locaist attitude. None of this is to say what Da Hui and The Wolfpak do for their own community is wrong. They do engage in an occasional forms of corporate sponsored soup-kitchen-activism by teaching kids with cystic fibrosis to surf or adopting a highway and doing things like corporate-sponsored beach clean-ups. The problem is allowing that to be a rationale that gives them a right to control the accessibility of surf. What was once a call to protecting against a threat of outsiders in the period of post-annexation has become a tool for a transnational corporate surfing world to bottle and manufacture surfing cartels as the answer to the sport. For this reason, I have to disagree with those who believe this type of localism is an answer to protecting a surfing commons.

It’s been a great week on the North Shore.  Kicking off with a monster swell and the Eddie on Tuesday, then the Billabong Pipeline Masters beginning on Thursday, the country is really seeing a lot of traffic in the form of spectators wanting to see the world’s best surfers on big waves.  Today, the third day of the Pipe Masters is going on, and both Taryn and I will be up there checking out the awesome surfing.

Kam Highway will surely be packed all day today, so the earlier you get out there, the better!  The Triple Crown competition may very well finish tomorrow with a dying but CLEAN swell continuing through Sunday.

Hit the beach, guys!  Enjoy the weekend!

Previously:

“My hearing’s not so good,” Codger said, “How long have they been married?”

“Oh. My. God.” Marshal Susie Blackmon said with her unerring sense of the dramatic, “That’s one-hundred, ninety-six years, three-hundred, sixty-four days, twenty-three hours and fifty-nine seconds too long.”

“Oh Susie,” Chris laughed, “You are funny. They make a lovely couple and you know it.”

“Better them than me,” Susie replied—but her face belied her words.

“Better them than me,” Susie replied—but her face belied her words.

“Well—Lieutenant?”

“Okay, Unca Lar, now would be great, let’s go! And—thanks in advance, Medlar, you know…”

“…Hush!”

Chapter X, Return, Episode 6:

“B‘sides, y’only turn forty once, an’ it’s all downhill from there!” Medlar continued as they made their way to the door, “I ain’t big on gifts, but you two boys have done yer folks an’ me proud.”

As they walked outside, followed closely by Cam Farkleberry (or “Auntie Cam”), Hiram, Sr. and Kiwi Silverthorn, Hiram Junior caught sight of the tilt-transporter, and there chained to the bed, a very shiny 1957 Ford “Custom 300 Police Cruiser,” looking much as if it was fresh from the factory—at least on the outside. Junior recognized the car as Lar’s “project car,” one he seen in the shed out back at Lar’s home for at least 20 years.

The car had been marked with the current reservation/township badge and lettering. When the car was acquired by the band back in 1957 it was marked with only the word “Police” on each front door. Complete with the 102” whip antenna, single red “gumball” light on the roof and chrome siren on the fender, the car was a trip back in time. But underneath the shiny exterior lurked a thoroughly modern law enforcement vehicle.

Lieutenant Hiram Silverthorn, Junior, was rendered temporarily speechless

Lieutenant Hiram Silverthorn, Junior, was rendered temporarily speechless. Like his “Uncle’” Medlar, he was a motorhead and loved almost anything on wheels—and the band’s police department had but one squad for its three-person police force—this was the perfect gift.

“Thank you Lar,” the smiling Lieutenant Silverthorn said quietly. Paused for a second and then added, “But is it faster than those Border Patrol Chrysler 300’s?”

“Only you would ask such a question, big brother,” Sam jumped in, “Doya really think Unca Lar would produce a car that wasn’t?”

Medlar Farkleberry just smiled…

Aboard the Falcon, now on course for the Port of Danger Bay, Cap’n Jack & Daisy were acclimating to their new accommodations in the crew quarters, having surrendered the spacious Master’s cabin to the newlyweds—it was the right thing to do.

Somewhere just north of the border, René LaFarge was into his third week of indoctrination…er…retraining of Ace Schwarzkopf—it was going very well and soon Big A would have a reliable thug…er…operative for the next stage of his “master plan” to take over Danger Bay…

Ahhh—the more things change…

To be Continued…

Comments Always Welcomed & Encouraged!

North Shore Mayor Andrew Williams has done us a favour by asking for, and then publishing, more details about ACT leader Rodney Hide’s overseas travels with that squash-playing sheila.

Williams is reported to have used the Official Information Act to winkle out the itinerary and Hide’s report to the Cabinet. He sent the stuff out with a press release yesterday.

“Aucklanders will be fascinated to learn that, according to the official trip diary, Rodney Hide spent around 10 hours on Auckland governance, three and a half hours on regulatory reform, four and a half hours on Act Party policy, one hour in media interviews, and seven and a half hours having breakfast and lunch with his tour party who accompanied him on the trip,” Mr Williams said.

Let’s be pricks and add that up.

Oh, yes. A grand tally of 19 hours work.

Ah, but then let the record show –

Mr Hide said it was not true that he only done 19 hours’ work.

In that case, of course, it seems he is unable to keep an accurate diary.

But let’s get back to the official papers.

They show that

Mr Hide spent four days travelling and had around 25 appointments. There was also the two days off in London for the wedding and a mostly free day in Los Angeles where Mr Hide is said to have visited a theme park.

Mr Williams said the visit cost $100,000, but Mr Hide provided papers that showed the budget was $50,000 and his office said this had been underspent.

The Cabinet paper gives sparse details of a range of meetings including one with London Mayor Boris Johnson.

Williams – who, let’s face it, has a political axe to grind as Hide sets about merging North City with other local body areas to form the Auckland supercity – is reported to be angry at deletions in the paper.

“To rub salt in the wound, Rodney Hide told Aucklanders on his return that ‘the reason for the trip was always work, and you’ll see from the Cabinet report of the trip the work that I engaged in’ but a glance at the official Cabinet trip report, also released, shows that around 80 per cent of the substantive content has been deleted, withheld on the grounds that the information is private and confidential and might damage international relations if released,” Mr Williams said.

Mr Hide said the deletions were made by foreign affairs officials because they include confidential advice.

So how has Hide responded to the more bothersome bits of Williams claims?

By playing the player, not the ball.

“What we know about Mayor Andrew Williams is that he opposes the one council for Auckland, so he has it made it his mission to hold me up. I’m focusing on getting the best results for Auckland,” Mr Hide said.

Hide also accuses Williams of “madness” (a different sort of madness, presumably, than the madness that resulted in Hide being driven by his balls instead of his brain in recent times).

Mr Williams said the itinerary showed Mr Hide undertook only 19 hours of meetings on the 12-day trip, which was a fact-finding mission for the Auckland Super City.

It was raised in Parliament by Labour MP Phil Twyford, and Mr Hide dismissed it as a product of Mr Williams’ “madness”.

Mr Williams told the Herald the jibe was linked to the “mad mayor of the North Shore” nickname he has been given by some right-wing bloggers.

Let’s also note at this juncture that Hide is claiming to have had 25 meetings, across seven days in four different cities.

But it was the telly that gave Alf the most bemusing insight into Hide’s aspirations.

ONE News has obtained the pitch that Rodney Hide made to the Prime Minister to get him to approve a controversial overseas trip with his girlfriend.

The bid includes meetings with Arnold Schwarzenegger and two famous British politicians. But the meetings did not take place.

Schwarzenegger is perhaps better known as a body building movie star but he is also Governor of California and Hide believed he could provide some tips on setting up Auckland’s super city.

So the Act leader and Local Government Minister wanted to meet Schwarzenegger on his overseas trip, accompanied by his squash star girlfriend Louise Crome.

Papers released to ONE News under the Official Information Act show Hide’s pitch for Prime Ministerial approval for the trip lists a meeting with Schwarzenegger as one of the top drawcards.

Oh, and Hide’s pitch to John Key included a meeting with British politician Peter Mandelson and one with the famous former Mayor of London, Ken Livingston.

But they never happened either.

What are we to make of all this?

Well, it makes Alf wonder deeply about Hide’s idea of good and bad government spending, which the short-arsed bugger is forever banging on about.

But fair to say, Hide has paid back more than $20,000 and apologised for using public money to take his girlfriend on the trip.

This morning I collected a cup and prize money from winning the Rotary District 9910 photographic competition run by the Rotary Club of North Harbour. This photograph was entered in the Open category and took the category and the overall competition prize, much to my surprise and delight.

The photo was taken at sunrise on Good Friday morning this year. It was a beautiful crisp windless morning and Rangitoto Island in Auckland’s Hauraki Gulf was silhouetted in the orange glow of the rising sun and reflected in a pool of water on Takapuna Beach.

Sony Alpha DSLR-A200, 1/30 sec, F16, Sony AF DT 18-70mm 3.50-5.6 kit lens at 18mm, hand held

Photo courtesy of Chad Podoski (Flickr)

It is arguably the most famous wave in the world, the wave that all other waves are measured against.  In recent years, Pipeline has provided the arena for the final stage of the Vans Triple Crown, and the first day of competition will be held today in 10+ foot surf.  With its shallow coral reef and a lack of continental shelf to break up the open-ocean swells, Pipeline is one of the most dangerous waves in the world.  Add a packed lineup of wave riders trying to get a piece of the action, and Pipe becomes not just a dangerous ride, but an extremely entertaining show for spectators.

Pipeline breaks in the winter because storms from Alaska send groundswells towards the North Shore from thousands of miles away. The waves travel great distances across the northern Pacific Ocean, and unleash some spectacular waves along the north shores of the Hawaiian islands.

Every year, thousands of surfers and bodyboarders travel to Oahu from all ends of the earth to test their skills at this famous spot.  Pipeline earned its reputation early on because it is considered a perfect wave. Depending on the day, surfers go in either direction on the wave. The right is known as Backdoor and the left is called Pipeline.

With the swell that brought that allowed Eddie to go still pumping, the Billabong Pipeline Masters will begin today and possibly wrap up in the next few days.  The contest has to finish by December 20.  If you aren’t on the islands to see the action with your own eyes, you can watch it live HERE.

I don’t ever feel as though I’ve completely explored a place until I run it. If I’m gone anywhere for longer than a few days, I usually pack my running shoes and make it a point to get out in the streets or find a nearby park and just… run. It’s usually a little less than an hour, but for that hour I feel as though I own the place. And whenever I’m exhausted, lying sprawled out on whatever patch of grass in whatever country or state I’m in and look up, I swear I have a new appreciation for the city.

It all started in high school when my family would visit my grandmother in Massachusetts from time to time during track season. I didn’t want to sacrifice days of training, so I’d head out for runs in the idyllic New England town of Shrewsbury. I’d run past coffee shops, churches and turn down residential streets. I’d pass people who waved and imagine what it would be like to live there. So, when I actually started living in different places, I took to the streets (or paths) once again. Below are some of my favorite runs in some of the places I’ve called home — at least temporarily — over the past year.

Barcelona

To be honest, I didn’t do much running while studying abroad in Spain. But about once every week or so, I’d get that itch to run. (If you’re a runner, you know what I’m talking about.) I’d go from my dorm — which was on the same street as La Sagrada Familia (yeah, not real life) — south to the Parc de la Ciutadella. People were always running or relaxing in the park, which contained the Catalan Parliament Building, Modernist architecture and the Barcelona Zoo on the south end (and still, somehow, grass and paths). It was also the favorite gathering-spot of the musical Barcelonan hippies and men’s running teams, which I would try to hang with on my runs occasionally. (And just for the record, their shorts were the shortest I’ve spotted on male runners anywhere.)

New York

Tara and I lived mere blocks from the West Side Highway, which second to Central Park is probably New Yorker’s favorite running spot. The strip hugs the West Side of Manhattan, and I’d start where it intersects Houston Street and run it past tennis courts, high-rise condos, parks, picnics and puppies; the New York Stock Exchange and to the tip of Battery Park. I brought everyone who visited me along that path — even if just for a walk — because in my opinion, it’s the best way to see the city.

Evanston

My first couple of years at Northwestern my favorite run was south of campus along Lake Michigan, which was stunning. This year I’ve been running northwest more often along the perfectly manicured lawns of North Shore bliss — namely, Wilmette. The Baha’i temple, which is the longest-standing of only seven in the world, is less than two miles north. I’m still in awe of it every time I pass.

-Karina for TKGO

It’s always fun to have front row seats. We lucked out to catch the finals of the O’Neill World Cup of Surfing (without any long waits) and witnessed the world’s best surfers in the final heat: Sunny Garcia (Hawaii), Dusty Payne (Hawaii), Mick Fanning (Australia) and Joel Parkinson (Australia). In the end, Joel Parkinson won, beating out Sunny Garcia during the last minutes of the heat. Here are photos from the ceremony crowning the winner!

Joel Parkinson, winner

Dusty Payne (Maui, Hawaii)

Mick Fanning (Australia)

Sunny Garcia (Hawaii) in blue. Great job Sunny even if it was a disappointing loss.

Miss Hawaii USA in the middle.

Joel Parkinson riding the wave at Sunset during competition

The crowd at the O’Neill World Cup of Surfing competition

This week has been an incredible week with the conclusion of the O’Neill competition ending, to the prestigious Eddie Aikau contest this past Tuesday (the last one was held five years ago), to the “Superbowl of surfing” Billabong Pipeline contest probably starting tomorrow. The North Shore is just abuzz with activity, energy, and beautiful world class waves that do not disappoint. Check it out whatever way you can…via Internet on the Van’s Triple Crown of Surfing website or here in Hawaii. Not to be missed!!

-Stephanie