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California’s Golden Boy David Eggers had it all, until he didn’t. Now he’s found something like grace in the desert.
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A tribute to the wave riders we lost this year.

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A photographic ode to boardless flight indeed. Mark Cunningham and Mel Thoman expound on the joys of fully-immersed waveriding over ten pages of stunning visuals from the epicenters of bodysurfing; Waimea shorebreak, Sandy Beach, Pipe and Newport's infamous Wedge.

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Pakistan, Afghanistan, and France, plus a few other memories and scandals from my time with Miki Dora.

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Watercolorist Ron Croci has been around the block. As an artist, he’s a hell of a storyteller. His decades of scene watching, creedler monitoring, and dialogue harvesting have found him imbedded squat in the middle of various locals-only situations, where justice is meted via the back of a hand. Now, his tales and paintings scan anachronistic. Where meritocracy, respect, and hierarchies once defined the line-up, the modern free-for-all of adult noobs, mass marketing, and litigation have rendered the surf world as safe as milk. While he’s clearly no fan of thuggery, you can’t help but read between the lines, feeling almost nostalgic for the days when a line-up violation could land you a sock in the jaw.
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The Surfer’s Journal
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