In Tune

This buddy is a photographer up in the out there somewhere. He nests in a little cabin him and his pops made a long time ago. Dad long gone but his structure is holdin' strong. Out back out of this picture's view is another duplicate hut. Buddy fixed it up nice as a shaping hangout room. The dad never shaped a board, didn't care about it, but rode the shit out of his boards. Later he started riding his sons boards and drawing lines he never felt before. Lines from the imperfections of the homemade boards but it was still new fun. He would ask for the same board every 6 months or so. 7 foot single fins. That's all he wanted and all he needed. Kid finally got around to shapin' a good stick and the dad was stoked. Just them and maybe a couple others would venture this far and very little knew what they had out their wooden front door.


Both regular-footed, the Tolman's were in liquid nirvana. Swells would come fairly often and 200 yard rights with a kind hollow section at the final legs of it would appear. Knew every rock and boil. Speed spots and sections. Tides and swell angles. Lived their lives around the nature of their front yard. Fished around the seasons. Self sustanible and happy. Always gracious to the few people that would venture though off the beaten road. Would welcome it. And as with every vistitor, it was known that this tucked away nook should be left undisturbed and undiclosed.

Fresh fish every night and slippery wetsuits in the morning.

5.3 @ 17 secs from 310 and sloppy