The TrailHead Project is my journey to understand more about mental well being through mountain biking, and part of this is exploring a little more about the emotional connection of the action photographer, and what they feel emotionally through the lens. I’m keen to understand more about the emotions they experience and how their photos relay this emotion to us, and encourage us to get out and ride. To the observer, or the people who thumb through thousands of images on social media, we might be missing something. Do we feel the obsession in getting a shot, the hard work, the frustration, or the physical exhaustion.
I couldn't write this post without first mentioning Brett Shelfer of Time Capture Photography. Brett shoots World Cups Downhill Racing, and the local scene around the South East of England and his tag is ‘Obsession of Observation’ which seems the perfect strapline. Many photographers are absolutely obsessed with getting the best shot, to create that emotional response, and in a world of 24 hour social media lifespan, and dying print media, those shots need to be pretty good as they are so short lived, and with reels now taking over, the still frame is arguably at an even greater risk of extinction. The pressures of shooting a world cup mountain bike event must be immense. Pressure from brands who’ve commissioned photographers to get ‘the shot’. Brett told me that so many of the photographers, or ‘Media Squids’ as they are known, will be shooting specific shots required by those brands. I’ve listened to enough podcasts now to know that the likes of Sven Martin, Boris Myer, Duncan Philpot are working long long days, editing way into the night, with Sven Martin often shooting for 16 brands at one event. Full stress, high pressure and travelling away from home for months on the road. Hard work to say the least. Bretts obsession comes from having a one track mind, as he says “I’m always looking, looking up through trees, it’s the art of light. Always looking for the unique angle, but also the rider's connection to the machine and having a mutual respect for the rider's perspective.” Observing through the lens can be just as exhilarating even if you're not riding. In a past life, when I was shooting surfing, I agreed with Brett when he said “that it helps to be a ‘fanboy’ of certain athletes”. Brett loves to shoot riders like Matt Roe, Ethan and Nathan Craik, and the effortless nature and flowing style but also captures the emotional responses of riders. He was present when Britains Laurie Greenland won his first World Cup Downhill race and expressed that it was just an awesome experience. “To see these riders experience the best and worst of emotions, is one thing, but to actually capture a young rider, win at Val di Sol, after years of trying so hard is the icing on the cake, it’s an exhilarating and a powerful experience”. Brett also uses his photography as an escape from everyday life, and keep his mind fresh, and being his own boss provides the freedom to challenge himself with his photography. Brett is not a full-time professional photographer, but he's bloody good, and his shots are inspiring. In fact his ‘Obsession of Observation’ got me obsessed with a shot that I want to get, and finally, to the point of this post. For three years I’ve looked at a section of trail here in the Wild West of Cornwall and ‘Obsessed’ about getting a shot. It's not about the steepness, or the technical difficulty, although it is steep, narrow and does have some sketchy mine workings below, including a mighty deep hole to the left on one corner and some hefty granite here and there, and enough too kick you off line. This shot is more about aesthetics, in fact, it's more of a series of shots that would capture the harshness of the environment, and the heritage of tin mining. Kenidjack Valley is in the Heart of the Unesco World Heritage Site. This area was the beating heart of 18th Century Tin Mining, or ‘Poldark Country’ if you watched the TV series. The Valley is steep on both sides, and you'll find the remains of the old arsenic works, the wheelhouse, even old machinery that is beautiful in their decay and at the same time preservation. The trail down through the valley meanders along the Tregeseal River, the power source for all the workings along its length, and it flows into Porth Ledden Bay. A trail that miners would have walked to and from work, day in day out, twelve hours a day in brutal conditions. A tough and unforgiving job. This valley is stunning and this is my second visit in as many weeks. This time to capture some shots. Not, ‘’The Shot’, but an idea of what ‘The Shot’ could look like. I was only equipped with a Samsung Phone, so apologies for the awful quality, and a Gorilla tripod. This was a recon mission, this was about putting in some effort to see what was possible through my eyes. I’ll wait for a proper photographer to offer up their services to get ‘The Shot’, in the right light, and without a howling Westerly wind, almost blowing me off the trail and downwards to the slag piles of granite, or into a mine shaft. Obsessing over a shot is a strange phenomenon. Unlike professionals, commissioned to get a certain shot, this was just pure fun for me. This was an opportunity, on a bright and breezy sunny afternoon, to session one part of a trail that drops from an exposed hillside, where the wind came up from the ocean on the other side of the hill. Blowing directly up a shear cliff and rotating over the top and onto the trail, I’m trying to ride and capture myself looking like a half decent rider whilst getting blown sideways. Once out of the wind the granite strewn trail drops below a huge outcrop of rock thats buffered by weather hardened grasses. In fact, this made for a great resting spot to have a ponder whilst eating one of the 48 Cadbury’s Creme Eggs my Mother In Law sent down to my son. Accessing the steepness of the valley to set up on the rocks for another shot was pretty hard going but I enjoyed scrambling around. I should say here that I had to do video clips, that I could then take the stills from, and you can see tht the images are not great quality. But like I say, this was an 'establishing mission', not ‘The Shot’. Ironically, I’ll put a reel together from the footage and place that on instagram. You can then thumb past all the great photography that's being missed because of the reels! I absolutely loved the process of trying to get some idea of whether this was worth the effort or not. I must have walked the trail twenty times, let alone up and down setting up for the next shot. Not bad I thought for a fifty something who refuses to grow up. At times I felt like a mountain goat scrambling over grass, ladened with spring bluebells and wild coastal flowers, but as the afternoon went on, more like an old man trudging back up a trail to get my bike. Either way the push back up was worth it because I also got to session a great piece of single track that I’d never ridden before. I was stoked with the images I got and I was stoked that I made time to get out and try. The obsession with ‘The Shot’ is still there and I can’t wait to get back to that trail, and with no pressure from anyone, but accompanied by a photographer who I know also has an obsession for a great image. If you’d like to find out more about the The TrailHead Project then just go to the page on the website. Gaining these shots was a perfect example of positive thinking, positive outcome. Setting a challenge and working towards that end goal. Through achieving this initial challenge my mindset was reset. As I rode back up the Kenidjack Valley, along the river, I was pretty euphoric. I had a sense of well being I’d not had in some time. I also felt I’d gained a tiny insight into what it might feel like to have an image in your head for so long, and when it finally comes to fruition, it becomes everything you hope it would be, but I'm not quite there yet. I hope you like my initial 'test' results. It’s a taster of what I believe will be so much better, shots that I feel will tell a story of riding in an area that is tough, rugged, and harsh. I feel like I have to thank Brett and all the other inspirational photographers like Sterling Lorence, Dan Milner, Duncan Philpot, Rupert Fowler, Sven Martin, JP Litiard, CA Greenwood, and many many more, for their tireless efforts to keep us stoked.
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Here's a question. Would you sacrifice an hour of summer daylight, to have an extra hour of light in the winter?
My friend Hugh of Bos Surfboards asked me this the other day and it’s actually a really great question. In fact I can't stop thinking about the benefits if such a sacrifice were made. Like 99.9% of people on this planet I would argue that we all look forward to the summer evenings. Those light nights where you don’t have to feel rushed. You get home from work, have some tea, walk the dog and you’ve still got three hours to go and have some fun. This is the UK by the way, and to pinpoint this further I live in West Cornwall, so at the height of summer, it gets dark around 10pm, maybe a bit later. I love it, those sunset surfs, where the vibe seems to be relaxed as the madding crowds of the day have gone home for tea, usually just the locals come out to play and the odd straggler from out of town. Those summer sessions riding on our local hill when the fern is at full height and the trails can barely be seen, the winter browns replaced by the most vibrant green, and purple of the foxgloves scattered around. The ocean a mile away, and the sun setting to the West. Wednesday nights up at ‘The Track’ at Portreath, jumping our bikes with other Dads that should know better, mid forties, mid fifties, kids in tow and having a whale of a time until dusk. Summer is the best, but do the late evenings make us a little lazy as well? Do we take those evenings for granted and not use them to their max? Don't get me wrong, I love the seasons here in the UK. I hate wind and rain when I'm working, but as a rule relish putting my jackets on and my winter wooleys hats, my favourite boots, but I also hate enduring 6mm of rubber, hoods and wetsuit boots when I go surfing. So here's that question again. Would you give up an hour or so of that summer light so you could have a little after work fun in the depths of Winter? One hour post work to do as you will. Personally, a quick surf, or a few laps of the hill, sounds great to me. Although I do love putting the lights on and riding at night and cruising the quiet lanes of West Cornwall on a still, clear night. Or a ride to the pub for pint during the Christmas Holidays, that extra hour of light could be amazing. Imagine it gets dark at 6pm, not at 4,30pm. I'm already heading straight to the beach or the hill and have enough time to get my fill of adrenaline, endorphins and stoke. Think of the benefits that you would gain. I’m sure our mental wellbeing would be far greater. We’d feel more positive, more upbeat. We wouldn’t be driving home in the dark, or worse still walking home in the dark, feeling like we haven’t seen daylight either side of work, probably because you haven’t. But wouldn’t it be nice if we could have a stroll around the urban parks, or a quick kick about with your kids and their mates. Wash the car, clean the bikes, clean the windows. All those chores that sadly then eat into your weekend. I reckon that one hour would be a game changer and I would personally sacrifice that summer hour because much of winter sucks. I don’t want to be a weekend warrior riding bikes or surfing, I want to do it every day if I can, although sometimes work takes it out of me and all I’m fit for is a shower, dinner, sofa, TV and bed. But here’s my main reasoning for supporting a transfer of an hour. I find the weekends during winter stressful sometimes and hear me out on this one. We work all week, commuting in darkness, and is it just me or does coming home seem even darker, and as winter progresses, it seems to get even darker still. When the weekend comes I want to do everything. Priorities include mostly surfing and riding bikes, then dog walks, then firmly down on the list are household chores. Weekends seem ‘time precious’ and I hate that. Everything seems like a rush, I’m almost counting the hours of light left from the moment I get up, and believe me I make the most of it. Summer is more relaxed because we have more time. Winter weekends are crammed into lets say 8am to 4.30pm, and that's never enough time to fit it all in. I honestly get anxious. I’ve got no time to wait for those family members who can’t get out of bed or are not ready to go when I am and whilst I’m impatiently waiting in the van, gripping the steering wheel, my mind is telling me 'I want to get gone’! My weekends often include my wife telling me to chill out. ‘Give me an extra hour of light in the winter my love, and I just might!’ Most of the winter I’m waiting for that one hour of light after work when I can go straight to the hill, or to the beach on my way home. A few laps on the MTB or have a surf, I’m so much happier. That hour tells me spring is on the way and the evenings are about to get better. Life is about to get busier again. Trouble is we don't have that extra hour, we have to endure four months of darkness, months of blackout, and I’m not a bear, hamster or hedgehog that has to hibernate, I want to be outside clocking up hours with my toys, not holed up in the lounge with the TV on watching another Netflix season, waiting for daylight saving, waiting for the clocks to go back or forward, whatever it is. Imagine the benefits to everyone's mental health. That little extra moment of post work fun. One hour, it’s not much, but it could make a huge difference. Think of those people who are doing stressful jobs and their release requires daylight. Just imagine walking out of the office and having an hour to run 5 or 10K in the light, not having to dress up in HiViz and lights, or riding a few miles on the road bike before tea. How about getting on that motorbike for a quick spin before dark, real stress busters, time when we can let go and not take that stress home to the family. I think you get the picture, and if you need to really appreciate the benefits to our mental well-being? What do you think? Would you sacrifice an hour of summer daylight, to have an extra hour of light in the winter? If you could, what would you do with it? Please Note: This is totally hypothetical. It’s never going to happen!! But It might be nice.
DMR Bikes are always a brand close to my heart. I'll always have the best memories being tight there at the beginning of their journey, nearly 28 years ago now in the back office of our BMX shop near Brighton, but this is another story.
I wanted to share this video as DMR are always so generous with their support for my bike and help me massivley with components for my Bikes and I'm forever grateful. This video also deserves a share because Olly Wilkins is one of my favourite riders, and also co-host on my number one podcast, The Ride Companion. This guy shreds on any bike and the guys that help put this together are all bloody legends. Big shout out to Matt Gray too. He's always so suppportive of my Trailhead Project, and I'm sure that Matt and Damo (DMR) are 100% behind this too, if you're into bikes, have a look. Has Spring really sprung yet? I look outside on the morning of the first day of spring and the rain is hitting the patio. The heavy drops hitting the patio door step, the skate ramp cover collecting puddles, which our dog will drink instead of his bowl in the kitchen. The bamboo in the corner of the garden, swaying in the wind, and the rain keeps on coming. Is it spring? I’m not sure. Two day later as I post this and the rain is still coming.
But when we reach the twenty-first day of March, the first day of Spring, that alone is worth a cheer, a little yelp of happiness and freedom for the darkness of winter. The evening post-work light allows for a surf or a bike ride. Just saying that 'post-work ride or surf' out loud is enough for celebration. Yes, Spring is in the air. The warmth of the March sun broke through briefly at work yesterday, and that was pretty nice. As I walked out from the day spent rendering in the basement, I peered out of the yard and was hit by the comfort of knowing that it’s nearly time to put the winter clothes away. Pack away the woolly hats, and the waterproof leggings, the thick jackets, and winter socks. The morning porridge, flask of hot soup or leftover stew that keeps you warm at work. Is it time to think about pasta salads and lighter sandwiches? Spring means that these few simplistic elements in a working day get lighter. As the days seem to get longer, the rushing around to fit everything seems to become more relaxed. By this I mean that weekends become less stressful. Trying to fit everything into the eight hours of sunlight when now we’ll have fourteen. Riding to work is just round the corner. Leaving home at six, and taking a quiet but meaningful cycle to work is a highlight of the year, heading into the sunrise, the calm seafront of Penzance, and the sea swimmers off battery rocks, or abbey slip (depending on the wind speed strength and direction) is always a lovely sight in the morning. As I pass another cyclist we exchange greetings, knowing we are on the same mission, the runners seem a little more less forthcoming in their salutations, they seem so serious. The ride home seems to be more like a training session, but not erratic. The sun in my face as I head back West is always welcome, but the hills are more of a challenge after a day being a stonemason. The way home takes me along the quiet lanes from Crowlas to Sancreed, Grumbla to Dowphra, and onto Sennen. The traffic on this route is minimal, and I relish that. After work surfing is relaxed, not hectic, the summer crowds have not yet arrived. There is no immediacy to get out of my work clothes and into a winter wetsuit in record time. The tempo is a little slower, allowing for a proper study of the conditions before heading in, rather than a glance, quick decision, manic change of attire and a sprint down the beach. Surfing also feels like the rhythm is returning, and as the sea warms a little, the winter boots come off, and that too is a moment to salute. There is always an initial cold bite to the water, but once the choice has been made to lose the extra rubber, it’s a commitment to say the least. Once again I can feel the bobbles of wax on my board, and my toes wrapped over the nose of my longboard. The hood, restrictive and blinkering at times is peeled off too, and for a time this becomes a neck warmer, the six millimetres of rubber around your neck acting as a means to stop the chilly ocean flooding down through the neck entry, and this will soon be shed too. When the surf is too poor to be of any use, I head to the hills on my mountain bike. The golden hour of spring and summer, my favourite time. As the sun gets lower on the hill, I ride laps, climbing up and racing down as fast as I can. I'm training at the moment for a big enduro event in the Summer, so this extra light is like a training aid. Riding also has more flow as the evenings get lighter and warmer. The winter trousers are replaced by shorts, the base layer lost too and short sleeves suffice. The winter jackets, washed and hung up for the winter, and the roubaix tights rolled up and put back in the box. The clear glasses back in their case and polarised lenses are cracked open again. Thick winter gloves join the roubaix tights, and the lightweight summer gloves make your hands feel bare, comparable to taking boots off for surfing. Summer gloves let you feel the grips, having better control of the bars and brakes. Riding bikes just gets better when Spring arrives. I love the seasons, I love the woolly hats, the winter jackets, the boots, the heavy shirts and cords and battening down the hatches when the Wild West storms hit Cornwall. But more than that I love it when spring arrives. Life just seems a little bit easier, motivation seems to increase, and I spend less time watching pointless television. For the most part, from now until November, you’ll find me outside until dark. Spring has Sprung, rain or not. Sometimes things can happen right on our doorstep. Lives can be changed only metres from our homes. Ten years ago I’d look out of my kitchen window and watch my neighbour head out for his daily walk. I was intrigued by this daily sight. Equipped with massive headphones, really tight tracksuit bottoms and oversized trainers, this daily routine began to catch my eye as he headed off to the coastal path. We often just passed neighbourly greetings, I always felt that he was a very humble and quiet man, and someone you wanted to engage, but neither could ever seem to get beyond that formal greeting. When a deeper conversation finally happened he gave me some profound words of advice that I've never forgotten, in fact his words have been offered to others too, passing on his wisdom when it’s been necessary.
At the time my son was probably three years old and I was teaching him to ride his balance bike across the road from our house. On the field above the ocean, and outside the madness of summer, the field is free from cars. Having a gentle incline means it’s a perfectly safe place to learn to ride a bike too. My neighbour stopped to chat and very kindly offered his admiration of our father and son bond. He'd been watching the progress over the weeks, my son’s achievements, and my joy, obvious when I was raising my arms, or offering up a high five. During this conversation I’d mentioned my work with veterans and loosely and in a forgotten context, used the term ‘mind over matter’. He quickly and ever so politely said ”please let me correct you, please don’t be mistaken, it’s mind and matter”. He went on to describe how an unhealthy mind will negatively affect our matter, our body, and our physical self. We talked of stress, and anxiety, and I explained that as we spoke I was suffering from acute stress, anxiety and depression was on the verge of taking hold. He taught me a breathing technique that emphasised following the journey of one single breath. He asked me to focus on that oxygen travelling through my body, in and out, which allowed me to immediately focus on the moment. He explained further how a negative mind can and will manifest itself negatively in our physical self, as he talked of stress leading to heart failure, skin disorders and potentially cancer. ‘Stress kills’ he warned in his gentle tone. But he also spoke of positivity, mindfulness, and meditation; his words were a wake up call; a pretty loud siren to make some changes. “You see, it’s Mind and Matter”, he said. I was so intrigued to know more, but before I saw him again, they had moved out, literally that week and thought about the regret for not speaking to him in greater depth, yet to this day, I’m thankful for his kind words of wisdom. In some ways I suppose , ‘Mind and Matter’ is not breaking any new grounds in life knowledge, literature or academic study, if you’ve been stressed or anxious, you will know that our minds affect our ability to eat and sleep properly, and if you have not experienced this yet then take this as a warning and do what is necessary to avoid the inevitable. By this point in my life, I had already begun to understand why the military might use sleep deprivation as an interrogation technique. Running a charity using surfing as a means to assist veterans in the management of their PTSD was a humbling experience, but it was slowly but surely sending me into such a negative spiral. My time with the charity came to an end amidst blame, out of control egos and lack of trust. Charity work had become a brutal wake up call and I was trying to do everything under my remit to keep people happy. I was either too proud, or too controlling to ask for help, and the consequence of this was going to bed, each night, mentally exhausted. As soon as my head hit the pillow, the bank statement would appear in my thoughts, and I’d spend the next 6 hours playing countdown; paying bills in my head until the account was empty, then go back to the starting balance, the same starting figure, and run it over again, then again, then again, I would run the same scenario until often it was dawn. If the military interrogated me back then, I would have given away the nation's secrets just to get a good night's sleep. Back then, stress and anxiety was gaining a real ‘Death Grip’ and these words ‘Mind and Matter’ meant so much to me. They really stopped me in my tracks and made me realise I was actually not well. Turns out my neighbour was a meditation master, like his Father back in India. His daily walks were part of his own meditative activities. He was truly a lovely chap, and as time moved on, I never forgot those words, and still hold them dear to this day. In a way I wish he could see that Jago is still riding bikes and our Father and Son bond is still really strong. I’d like to tell him that at times I do lapse and I do feel low. But I'd also tell him that I now have the tools to manage those times. My love of surfing and cycling, walking and writing, help to deal with that. Sometimes we meet people and they do have a real impact on us, and this neighbour was one of those. Who's yours? I asked myself on the way out of the door ‘What is it I like about walking’? I try to leave the house now with a question, whether walking, riding or surfing. It’s a great exercise to take your mind off things; if you need to that is. This morning we awoke to a beautiful late February morning, with crisp clear skies, accompanied by a fresh and chilly North East wind. A perfect morning for a loop around Porthgwarra with the hound.
As I walked I noticed the overwhelming silence of being outside away from the village, the roads, the farm machinery and chatter of normal day life. But the silence was broken as I left the seclusion of the bridleway by the the breeze that was cool to say the least. As I dipped out of its reach on the coast path I had moments of shelter, but it swiftly came back to bite as I rose to the top of the climb above Pendower Cove. The Cornish Choughs grabbed my attention with their distinctive call and I might be wrong but I always seem to see them in pairs. As they glide down the steep face of the grassy land, towards the sheer drop to the seemingly swell less of the ocean. There were white water indicators of some small wave presence on the rocks off Carn Barra, but not in the way the big winter swells hit the rocks hard and make that unmistakable crash, then open up and peel across this bay in a lumpy disorganised winter and disruptive manner. In the distance there is a yacht heading North, and I can spot the wind in her sails. Full of wind the shapes of the sails are brilliant white in the morning sun. As she nears Lands End, the head wind will be waiting when she turns North, and then the tack game will begin. The slow slog forward in small angled increments. I remember this as a child when my Father would take us sailing, and it seemed like the most frustrating time being a sailor. Myself and my dog, Kylo, a freshly stripped Border Terrier, took shelter behind the granite pillars of Carn Barras and I watched him just explore. What can he see? Then realised he'd spotted two labradors and a pointer. The game was on. Will he make a run for them? Surprisingly no. He took a better vantage point, but stayed near. We sat for a while enjoying the calm out of the wind, but it came time to move on.I could have sat there all day basking in the winter sun, but we had to press on. We rejoined the well trodden coastal path, again in the direction of Gwennap Head and Kylo got his chance to play with a young pointer. His owner, a local lady from Porthcurno, we chatted for a while about the weather and our dogs, as this seems like a common bond with dog owners, and you see so few people out this way, this time of year it’s always nice to just stop and chat nothingness, and hopefully make a difference to their day and mine. As we went our separate ways I thought Kylo would prefer the play of another canine than mine, but he surprised me yet again and after just one whistle, he came running, bribed by a dog treat. As we walked on, a flock of birds rose and fell repeatedly from the heather, the wings flapping with a pleasant sound. At this point I wanted to know what they were, I had no idea. Curlew? Pluvers? I know they weren’t starlings. If I paid more attention sometimes then I’d know. I recognise the Chough, the call and the red beak, the various Hawks, Kestrels and Owls, in fact on this same walk a few years back, there were a huge amount of Red Kite in the area. But today, all I want to know is what these birds are? Here's my question for next time. The turning point of the walk is the gate at Carn Guthensbras, just across the way from the Coast Guard Station on Gwennap Head. At this point I turn and head down along the stone hedge and back, hence the way I came. This is sort of my outward loop across the moorland, and away from the coastal path. Away from anyone. Here it becomes silent again, just myself and Kylo. The walk back is when I get to do my thinking, and come up with the answer to the question. As I went back along the narrow bridleway to my van, past the derelict barns, and holiday let, which seemed empty and cold, through the odd muddy puddle, cursing Kylo as he went straight through the middle. Past the daffodils, and alongside the freshly ploughed fields with just an inch of new growth showing on the crest; I stopped and admired the computerised perfection of a modern tractor, and that's when I thought of all this stuff that you’ve just read! Question answered, I got home, put my feet up, drank tea, ate crumpets, grabbed my grumpy teenage son, got on my bikes, and did the exact same loop on two wheels. But this time, no questions were needed. When you’re a surfer and have to work Monday to Friday during the winter months, we become weekend warriors. This can be both frustrating and exciting. Frustrating because we rely on the elements aligning, the wind, the swell, the tides and the motivation for the weekend. I say motivation because as you get older, or this might just be me, we become more selective as to when and what conditions we surf. Personally, I work out the ‘effort to return’ ratio, it has to be worth it. Long gone are my days of surfing when it just looks like all I'll catch is a cold.
Then there’s the excitement knowing that those elements are aligning, or have been aligned all week, but will remain so for the weekend, when it's your turn. The weekday surfers, those who have actually made the effort and found employment that allows them the time to surf whenever they want, (sense the jealousy here) but my procrastinating self seems to have put off, but for now settled for a job that you really enjoy but you’re not self employed or working for yourself. Therefore, during the depths of winter, weekends are all we get. It's a cruel balance, frustration versus excitement. Anyway, let me briefly tell you about the excitement of my weekend surf. This past weekend was one of those weekends when I managed to get in the water both days. I had great surfs, both days, not perfect surfs, but I made them great. On Saturday, the tide was dropping, some may say (my wife) closing out. For those who don’t know this term, it’s when the wave just shuts down. But I saw an opportunity, I saw a race track, a speed run, from take off to the sand, I saw fun and was lucky to catch a few. I pumped my longboard from start to finish, rising and dropping along the wave, generating speed from the middle of the board, no cross stepping, no fancy turns, no noseriding, just get to the middle, and let rip. So much fun on a longboard too. Sunday saw South East winds gusting in the high twenties, but I couldn’t resist the conditions. An empty, far from perfect left hander at my home break, which for the most part I surfed on my own. Knowing that those who were in there already, had not got to grips with the rip current that was begging to be used, they were sadly stuck in the impact zone or having a paddle fest trying to reach the take off for the left. This doesn’t happen to me often but I managed to get in sync with the set waves and the rip current, and whilst the wind and currents kept the tourists at bay I surfed my little heart out. In fact, the wind was horrific, a real eye-stinging wind, but after my first wave I used the rip to perfectly drop me back to where I needed to be,I wasn’t at all bothered, as I was just in time for the next freight train left. On take off they were head high, shapely, fast, windy, speed crouching left handers that peeled into the safety of a deep channel and rip current. Sadly the deep channel forced the wave to fatten up, but nonetheless, a great wave on a longboard, and I was stoked I’d chosen the right board. A different design from the previous day because there would be more turning involved, and as a result, I had an absolute ball. In fact I would go as far to say that for two hours, although I did not stop paddling, I felt that during moments of that session I was in that total flow state. That beautiful mindset when you are in the zone, where your mind is transfixed on the activity, totally in the present, and that added to the perfection of my surf. Like the day before, I was just happy trimming and pumping the board to get the most from the wave. Cutting back to the curl when I needed and going again to the next section, no fancy business, just centre of the board, hand jiving fun. This weekend warrior went back to work on Monday, knackered, content, and so stoked that on Wednesday I had my first post work surf for 2023, so I suppose weekend warroir status is now coming to a close. I'm looking forward to what this weekend might bring, but as I write this it looks like the elements don’t align for our local, so I guess I’ll go looking elsewhere or simply ride my bike. Absolutely win win! How was your weekend? A message to those long time, probably older surfers of the world, that seem fed up with the crowds, the poor etiquette, and sheer lack of understanding of how it all works, the floaters, the driftwood, the slalom cones, the speed bumps, the rabbit in the headlights, the frightened, the screamers, and not to mention the foil boards, the kneel up paddle boarders, yes the ones who decided that Stand Up is not for them, kneeling on the way out, or back in. It seems that during, and since lockdown, the world wanted to become a surfer. My message to those disillusioned surfers is simple, ‘Please don’t give up, please keep surfing’.
Yes the ocean is busier than ever with this new breed of water user. I won't call them surfers just yet as they might go surfing but there is little notion of surfing heritage, and would I be too outspoken if I said that many of them will never actually make that real sacrifice of time, money, mental and physical exhaustion, relationships and career, to become a fully fledged surfer. Are they selfish enough in these early years to see it through? I might have this wrong but I think the legendary Rabbit Batholemew once said ‘you're not a real surfer until you’ve done your first bottom turn’, so I’ll go with Rabbit on this one. I recently listened to a SurfSplendor podcast where CJ Nelson was the guest and he talked about surfing as an investment. The time we invest in being surfers to move up the order, the time it takes to be one of the elders in the line up. It's a great listen and I won't make a hash of it any further, but the term he used was ‘investment’ and I found this intriguing. So I thought I would explore a little further in terms of surfing being an investment, For the purpose of second part of this post let's just call Surfers the traders, and wave the investment, and our beaches, let's call that the market. Like business people or entrepreneurs, who make investments they only do this for return on that investment and make decisions based on market circumstances. Many long term surfers, sorry ‘traders’ are disillusioned and ready to throw their lifetime of investments away. They’re selling up and moving on. Maybe they've had all the return they need? But if that were the case, then why do they still moan about there being too many traders at the market? If you're done, you’re done. But I think they moan because they still want to invest. They don't really want to sell, they just want some change and less traders. Why? Because there’s simply not enough return for everyone to enjoy. I’d like to tell them to dabble in other markets for a bit if you must, your absence will free up some space for the rest of us; but please don’t sell up on the greatest investments ever, the ones that you know will make you rich beyond money, and make you a winner in life. Instead of selling up and getting out, be wiser, a little shrewd, cheeky, even a tad brash, more confident and assertive within the market. If it becomes a battle between you and the newbie getting the bonus, and the rewards you worked so hard for, who will win? You, or the newbie, who've spent little time chasing investments. What will you do? Endlessly moan and then give in? You can if you like, and I know I’ve done my time moaning, but what would be better? I would suggest you analyse the markets and get stuck in, reinvest. You’ve spent years getting the returns, and yet, because of a few hundred thousand newbies who’ve decided to dabble in the market, who’ll soon realise that they will need to play the long hard game before they see anything like the returns you've all had; and you’re willing to get out, and do what? Let’s look at how to handle these new traders. The ones putting in the effort are obvious, and deserve our time too. Maybe pass on some trading knowledge to help them on their way, believe me, this will feel rewarding and you'll feel great. The ones that really don’t do the groundwork can't want the returns. To receive them they have to play hard and take risks, but many are just bystanders, contemplating what's on offer. It’s as plain as day that for some they’re lost in a busy market, not knowing which investment is the right one, wasting effort on everything that comes their way. As experienced traders, we know when the right investments come our way. The ones that will pay off massively, and these are what we want. However, now it seems we have the occassional deal breaking fight on our hands. If your effort outmatches theirs, which it should, then there’s only going to be one winner. You don’t have to be aggressive in this form of trading, just focussed. Playing the game is important here. It might even feel like a little insider trading because you have this almost secret knowledge from past investments and right the information, like the little indicators, and this give you the heads up. You give a little false information by shifting your focus one way, and the newbies will follow. You move back again, confusing the competition, and using these tactics you've moved them out of their comfort zone, When a real investment comes along, you’ll be in the better position to buy and they'll have missed the opportunity, again. Occasionally you'll undercut them on the deal, because it's just to good to miss. They might respond depending on their knowledge. In this situation, you're not sending a great message or settng a good example, but this situation is personal to you, it's your call. Explaining your actions to them in a professional manner might involve stating that you’ve been waiting for the dividends a lot longer than they have and they’ll have they’re opportunity soon enough. This might not wash, and please don’t tell them that just because they're wearing a traders outfit, and have all the latest gear, this doesn’t make them some hotshot just yet. Aplologise, be humble and leave, happy in the knowledge that you made a calculated risk and you got the reward. If they undercut you; then educate them of the rules of the trading floor. Let them know that it might be a good idea that they learn the rules for future investments. If they say sorry, then be nice, don’t be angry, maybe even encourage them to have the next wave. Offer some advice on their position in the market. Sorry goes a long way, and should be reciprocated with a thumbs up. If you're still upset after they've apologised then thats down to you. Ultimately here lies your responsibility, you chance to part with your knowledge. and play a part in a more pleasant market place. If no one tells them what they did wrong, they’ll keep making bad investments. You might also wish to pass on that if they did these dodgy deals in some places of trading, they could lose everything, some traders can be very aggressive. If they persist in showing off their new found ego, then being a little shark-like can help. Circling your competition often helps, it’s an uncomfortable feeling, especially when your new to the business. I remember feeling like I was about to get bitten many times in my formative years learning the basics. Only once did I get circled and nearly told to leave the floor. But I learnt a valuable lesson and kept my distance for a time. I apologised time and time again to this hardened trader, and only made investments when I knew it was a wise move. Over time this trader softened to my position on the floor, he even threw me the odd deal. As I became confident enough to get results, I’d like to think I was a polite trader, and this was greeted by the older traders with a welcome, and an open market. But the more experience I gained, I too got a little excited and greedy, making too many investments and undercutting others, but with age and I've became more patient, wiser and very selective, it's a nicer way to get investments. To my fellow traders up and down the coasts, world wide and beyond; Don’t give up on your portfolio. Adjust your strategy and go for some smaller investments, become selective yourselves. Some days you might not feel like trading, other days you might be surprised and get the deal you’ve been looking for, and that will be enough. Be humble, don't jump the queue. and don’t be one of those that stands in the queue and shouts, ‘I’m next’. If you're still not happy.... invest in cycling.
Coukdn't resist, so I'm just leaving this here for discussion. Devon Howard at your service.
Kilian Bron at his finest again. This guy can ride a Mountain Bike and creates the most amazing content from across the globe.
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AuthorHi, I'm Russ Pierre, a Cyclist, Surfer and outdoor enthusiast. Please join me as I have some fun on my adventures and write about all the stuff that makes me tick. Archives
October 2023
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