Some fella called Mick Fanning has just won the Quik Pro France; you heard of him? If you don’t know him he’s easy to spot cos he’s the skinny blonde dude dragging around a scuffed Louis Vuitton suitcase full of crisp dollar bills. Mick’s total winnings in the last week or so total a marvellous $145,000US. Which is not bad going in anyone’s book. As a surf photographer it would take you approximately 5-years to earn that same amount. Which is thoroughly and terminally depressing…
I’ve actually been depressed since just before 9a.m this morning, mainly because Dane ‘the Saviour of Pro Surfing’ Reynolds got bummed out of the event by Bede and the coffee situation got beyond critical- we’re talking full coffee machine shut down. Yesterday punt’s and crazy turns triumphed, the judges forgot that over night and went back to scoring three turns to the beach higher all while someone crept into the site and nicked or mutilated the few remaining bastions of high-octane caffeine delivery.
The script went right out the window as the Euroforce went on a continental rampage with Tiago Pires going loco on Kelly (again) and wildcard Patrick Beven smiting Dingo and Bobby- mainly because they don’t wear speedos under their wetties. Kelly wasn’t best pleased, a board was thrown and the toys vacated the pram for a while. He’s getting over it by going to Scotland to freeze to death playing golf. While other pros are going on European tours to Italy, some to Germany to surf a river (cos at least there’s some frigging rideable waves there) and the odd few will probably stay here and surf 1-foot waves. Whichever diversion they choose there’s a week to fill before Mundaka and the worst possible long-range weather forecast I’ve ever seen.
It wasn’t a banner day surf wise for the finals but it was contestable; if not somewhat repetitive. The semi’s berths all filled with likeable skilled chaps who did more backhand hacks than I have ever witnessed in one day. The loss of Dane, CJ, Taj and Kelly -who to a man have a bit more flair in the air- kinda did me in. Small wave beachy comps need to be about crazy shit, not tap… tap… tap… tap. Because that’s known as French Water Torture- the repetitive tapping until you cannot stand it anymore. Sorry if I am doing a ‘rostbif whinge’ but that’s how I feel. By the time Mick pipped Jordy (the big oaf launching a game changing reverse seconds after the hooter went) it was a done deal. There was a crushing inevitability about Mick’s win- he is a machine: precise, honed, limber and fit and no one else could touch him.
If nothing else it’s made the world title race more interesting with Mick a mere 146 points adrift of his buddy Parko who was nowhere to be seen today.
What happens now is anyone’s guess. The Atlantic seems to be locked into a holding pattern that doesn’t equal surf for anywhere. Another month of this might break several minds and spirits… if not the tour itself.
On that cheery note adieu from France! Hopefully see you in Spain if I can make it through the next week without giving up. Now someone pass me the red eh…
For all the photos click here...
The script went right out the window as the Euroforce went on a continental rampage with Tiago Pires going loco on Kelly (again) and wildcard Patrick Beven smiting Dingo and Bobby- mainly because they don’t wear speedos under their wetties. Kelly wasn’t best pleased, a board was thrown and the toys vacated the pram for a while. He’s getting over it by going to Scotland to freeze to death playing golf. While other pros are going on European tours to Italy, some to Germany to surf a river (cos at least there’s some frigging rideable waves there) and the odd few will probably stay here and surf 1-foot waves. Whichever diversion they choose there’s a week to fill before Mundaka and the worst possible long-range weather forecast I’ve ever seen.
It wasn’t a banner day surf wise for the finals but it was contestable; if not somewhat repetitive. The semi’s berths all filled with likeable skilled chaps who did more backhand hacks than I have ever witnessed in one day. The loss of Dane, CJ, Taj and Kelly -who to a man have a bit more flair in the air- kinda did me in. Small wave beachy comps need to be about crazy shit, not tap… tap… tap… tap. Because that’s known as French Water Torture- the repetitive tapping until you cannot stand it anymore. Sorry if I am doing a ‘rostbif whinge’ but that’s how I feel. By the time Mick pipped Jordy (the big oaf launching a game changing reverse seconds after the hooter went) it was a done deal. There was a crushing inevitability about Mick’s win- he is a machine: precise, honed, limber and fit and no one else could touch him.
If nothing else it’s made the world title race more interesting with Mick a mere 146 points adrift of his buddy Parko who was nowhere to be seen today.
What happens now is anyone’s guess. The Atlantic seems to be locked into a holding pattern that doesn’t equal surf for anywhere. Another month of this might break several minds and spirits… if not the tour itself.
On that cheery note adieu from France! Hopefully see you in Spain if I can make it through the next week without giving up. Now someone pass me the red eh…
For all the photos click here...
