Tag Archives: surfing

Almost Like Begging… Oh, and Big Surf… Elsewhere

Posted on by under Erwin Dence illustrations, real surfers, surfing illustrations, surfing the strait of juan de fuca, writings of Erwin Dence

Even without Surfline, we can live stream Maverick’s, Steamer Lane, and, haven’t tried it, maybe Riincon, Swamis… Shit! YouTube! Whoaa-a-minute… Okay, I’ll wait for the highlight reels. More Kai Lenny flippiing out, more gawker-crowded beaches, more mega-million dollar houses getting hosed; and I’m flipping between buoy reports, all while knowing why El Nino doesn’t send waves down the Strait. Angle, angle, angle. Not a secret. Still, hoping. The refraction off Canada theory? Not really a believer.

Here’s my dilemma: Publishing requires MONEY. Upfront money. My book of songs, short essays, and non-elitist (I’ve checked with elitists, and no) poetry, LOVE SONGS FOR CYNICS, is at the publisher/printer wiith a ‘check it out’ run of four books.

JIM ALLRED is my formatting/editing collaborator on this project, and with the book ‘out there,’ always a nervous time for a writer, partially because your baby has to stand on it’s own, partially because of all the other ways you have no control, no choice other than waiting; it turns out that Jim has some new ideas for changes when the proofs get back. The page, above, is one of them. I did draw the feather with some hope of matching the rearranged copy, but lack the skills. JJim has some other ideas to add more art to the book. I’m all for that.

BACK to the money issue. Is there a plan for selling the books? Kind of. I have some contacts in Port Townsend, shops that have sold cards and such of mine in the past. I’m semi-in to do a presentation at the City Public Library, and I have friends I plan on inviting who are actual (talented) singers. If they chose to do my original pieces or their own, I’d be thrilled to havve them.

Yes, I am aware poetry books, particularly self-published ones, are not fortune makers.

Yes, I have considered doing a Go Fund Me campaign, and I brought this up with Trish. “No. We don’t do that!” I have to say, I kind o agree. One of seven kids in a working class family, some do-gooder came around with food and such. My mother was appalled and emphatic. “No.”

It’s not all a pride versus vanity versus reality thing.

SO, I am willing to offer something: The book will be properly bound (not cardboard, probably card stock), printed on a lovely soft white paper at a size, like 5 by 7 (I’ll check), around 70 pages, and will retail for $20 American. My cost is around… you know… less; but the shipping… four books cost almost $20. More books, less per. Note my candor here. I can’t think of a good reason to sugar coat.

I have printed up a copy, one-sided, on my home printer. If it were to be done double-siided, the margins Jim built in would work. Put it in binder. If I did a limited, numbered, signed run of these… Investment opportuniity? Maybe. That requires faith. I did have a man give me a thousand dollars a couple of years ago, interest free, to persuade me to do more ORIGINAL ERWIN t shirts. I paid him back, a couple of shiirts as some sort of thanks.

Still figuring out how to swing this. MEANWHILE, I’m posting some of the artwork and some of the material on InstaGram at realsurfersdotnet

I’ll keep you posted, Maybe I’ll get a great winter paint job and I can back myself. I can be reached at erwin@realsurfers.net or, what the hell, call my home office at (360)765-3212. Leave a message.

Back cover- Words by Jim Allred

My Almost Published Book

Posted on by under northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, writings of Erwin Dence

This is the back page. It was designed by my editor and collaborator, Jim Allred. He wrote the copy. I am very appreciative of Jim’s help, particularly his push to get everything Proofed, formatted, and off to a printer.

ere are some surf-centric songs in this collection, some hard core blues lyrics, a couple of sarcastic pieces. Some, perhaps, heart-warming… no, not so much. I’m planning on doing some public readings, promising to try not to sing,

Maybe you’ve heard rumors of surf. Yeah, but the stories of trees down and adverse winds are real. I have to go. Work. Work, can’t reveal where, but somewhere close to the water.

I’m BIG in China and Wondering Why

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, gopro shots on the Straits of Juan de Fuca, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, surf culture, writings of Erwin Dence

FIRST- I did go surfing recently, as in, possibly, today, a Saturday, and, before you ask; yes, it was crowded. It’s a Saturday! There was a search for view parking, and no handicapped spots out in the wilds; I had to invoke Costco rules, along with a Costco smile, when, circling, I hit the turn signals, pulled as close as I could to the van whose driver either super dawn patrolled or gave up, and snagged a front row spot. Yes, I squeezed up snuggly close to some dude’s SUV, allowing almost enough room for another, similar sized rig to share the thrill of looking out, directly, at an overcrowded lineup. Weekend Warriors and never-seem-to-work thirty-somethings, some of them couples, on dates. Wow!

Wow as in I should write about the first date Trish and I had, November 10, 1969. I took her to a then 2nd tier spot, allowing her the opportunity to watch me surf uncrowded waves, on to Grandview with a view from the bluff (at least two surfers tried to ‘make time’ with her, then on to gourmet food at the new Jack in the Box.

Yes, she has, mostly, gotten over the thrill of watching me.

And then, back to today, there were the older folks, some of them there, perhaps, to coach younger rippers-to-be. I was particularly interested in the guy with the straps over his wetsuit, there to hold his camera. Go pro, man! I did see him in the lineup. Hopefully he got some good shots of more than the deck of his board.

It wasn’t like I didn’t have some of the “know before you go” stuff going on. Not Surfline, which may have predicted head high bommmbs (didn’t happen), but friend of a friend stuff (allowed if the report is mostly a negative), but I was almost there when I got the news. Two fewer surfers in the water, few waves in the mid thigh range. Mid calf.

NOW, I got to go spend time surfing because TRISH is, finally, getting better. Better is relative, but part of what I take for truth is that she now realizes how close she was to (I hesitate to type this, and I’ve been equally hesitant to admit it) dying. SO, Yay! and Fuck Cancer!

I should note that, out of the water for several months, my first concern was that I would suck. I didn’t rip; didn’t suck; so, success! I did have two ugly attempts at getting back to shore. Normal. I’m kinda old, my knees seem older. 3.5 for the landing. 3.75 from the Canadian judge.

POST SURF REVIEW- I spoke with several friends about my adventure (and every session is), and the argument of crowds ruining sessions came up. The counter is surfers retelling tales of surfing quality waves alone, or with a few friends. Yeah; hang onto those. I do. OH, I did ask a woman parked near me if she got enough waves. She held up one finger. No, different finger. “Hope it was a good one.” “Wave of the day!” “Yay!

I did ask another woman, thinking I recognized her as the one who claims to have once grabbed my leash, if her oversized sprinter van was big enough. I didn’t hear what she responded with, but she may have raised one finger. ” Yeah, wave of the day!”

CHINA ISSUE- WORDPRESS keeps track, and I get a lot of hits, too many, from China. I can’t help but imagine that their Commie AI wants to decipher my writing style, possibly to duplicate it to infiltrate America, and then world surf literature. Joke’s on them. I could explain, but, meanwhile, I’m not unhappy to get semi-successful numbers.

Yes, I’m totally exaggerating, though I did have a guy in the lineup tell me he reads realsurfers. “Oh, you’re the one. Thanks. I’m popular in China.” “Cool. You had a lot of drop-ins.” “Yeah. People recognize a decent wave when I’m on it.” “China, huh?”

MEANWHILE, enjoy whatever surf adventure you’re on. If some old cruster gets a parking spot or a wave you wanted, well, part of your story. Costco rules apply.

JIM ALLRED is helping me put together a book of my work, “Love Songs for Cynics.” I have to come up with artwork (I have lots). I’ll keep you, and China, updated.

“SWAMIS,” my novel, is… still… almost… totally… done.

erwin@realsurfers.net realsurfersdotnet on Instagram

NOTE- I almost posted a photo that showed a part of the coastline on the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Lovely sunset, no waves, but, still, if it fell into the wrong hands…

There’s Always Westport

Posted on by under Competitive surfing,, northwest surfing blog,, oregon surfing, real surfers, surf contests, surf culture, writings of Erwin Dence

The contest season in the West-Northwest is over. Sort of. Maybe. Big wave stuff might be coming up, but what’s always happening is the day-to-day session stuff, surfers waiting, searching, ready to test ourselves against the conditions, the crowds, and our own desires to score.

Scoring, of course, means different things to different people. While some are looking to score, to dominate, even, some are content to be on a scene, part of the people hanging in the parking lot, on the bluff, on the beach, or in the lineup. There is, then, always Westport.

Wind-whipped and/or out of control huge, semi-lined up and groomed peaks, Westport is rarely flat, flat, flat. Along with Seaside, it’s a destination semi-surf town. When all the wave energy is from the south, it’s a choice.

No, though I often tell surf fans checking out the potential on the Strait to go to Westport, I’m not trying to sound like the tourist bureau. However, there is a tradition of Olympic Peninsula surfers heading down when it’s flat and/or if there was an unavoidably alluring southy. Surfers made friends with Seaside and Westport locals. Homes were opened for visits. There was some reciprocity.

I’m also not saying this aloha-esc sharing is over. Recently, my friend Keith Darrock headed down to hang with a friend in Westport the weekend of the longboard contest. Another trip had Keith hitting Oregon, hanging and surfing with friends he grew up with in Yachats. I asked him to send some photos.

Yeah; Westport. Dreamy, huh?

Keith’s crock in Seaside. I did hear some stories and saw some photos of surf in deeper Oregon, but was instructed not to publish them. Keith’s friends wouldn’t appreciate it. His friends. Keith did call me from the parking lot at Seaside Point on his way back. A local running out, gave him the kind of look regulars at any localized spot give interlopers.

Not aloha-esc. I don’t have any friends, exactly, in Seaside, but my father lived iin Chinook, Washington, close enough to be within an acceptable range (based on my being vibed, in the past, by a dude from Astoria), and my brother now owns tharinghe house. I keep telling my friends that we could cruise down, hit the Point. Could. Everyone appreciates sharing.

Sorry. Sarcasm; but, on one visit to my dad’s, after three days, actual locals were kind of, almost, friendly. Cove’s one thing; Point’s another.

Images of Seaside; one by me, one of me, one by my nephew, Fergus, who was threatened, then asked if he caught the surfer’s last ride, then allowed to leave. I must be thinking too much about Seaside. No, go to Westport, even if you’re from Seattle or, even, Canada.

MEANWHILE, I did watch some of a Challenger Series contest from Brazil. Still rooting for Sally Fiitzgibbons. She got into the semi-finals. Stephanie Gilmore wasn’t competing there, so we’ll see how the season ends for the holdovers from their generation. Interestingly, the contest on the women’s side ended with a sixteen-year-old winning over a, like, nineteen-year-old. Brutal. Or fun, depending onb your perspective.

Meanwhile, I am reciting or reading an excerpt from an original poem at an event in Port Townsend. It’s kind of an honor to be included. There are so many ways I can fuck this up. I’ll let you know.

erwin@realsurfers.net realsurfersdotnet on Instagram.

I do plan on writing about Instagram addction. Later. Thanks for checking out my site. Get some waves.

If You Threw a Surf Contest and the Waves…

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, Competitive surfing,, hipster surfers, northwest surfing blog,, oregon surfing, real surfers, surf contests, surf culture, writings of Erwin Dence

…failed to show up.

Image from Trent Olson (or Olsen- didn’t go back to check) Facebook page. One dude (guessing, not being snarky) won’t pull up his wettie (Australian influenced jargon) until the water is genital level (I agree with this cold water adjustment strategy), the other dude don’t need no stinkin’ (and they usually are- with or without urinary help) booties, and, wait, are those both soft-tops? Wavestorming Cape Kawanda.

I have been critical of the spot in the past, one of the few places in the northwest with multiple web cams. But I have checked it out. Yes, I called it the ‘pull back’ capital, did remark on how (and this is typical of west coast beach breaks) the outside sets, mushy or not, closeout or not, lead one to the inside double-ups, most of them crashing closeouts. Yes, I have wondered why one weekend day there’s only a few adult learners jumping into the re-forms, getting thrashed, popping up prematurely, but still claiming victory for the relatives on the beach; and sometimes, same conditions, there’s hordes of heroes and villains vying for evrery three second ride.

Good Luck; I have to go; I’ll check back. Later.

I do have to go to work. erwin@realsurfers.net

realsurfersdotnet on the Gram.

News on the literary front. Coming soon. You know, like the next swell.

Summer Shadetree Mechanics and…

Posted on by under Uncategorized

This might be your view heading to the Olympic Peninsula to look for surf. For me, it’s heading home. Mid summer, the sun sets straight up the hill on the west side of the Hood Canal Bridge. It’s no longer mid-summer. Perhaps we are re-entering surf season, such as that is.

My house is under the sun

The image kept going sideways. I almmost resorted to using AI. It turns out I don’t know how. Forced to add the caption. Afraid not to.

Flipped again. Crazy.

One can never have too many ladders. Unfortunately, I need a forty footer to complete this project. The staggering is a trick I learned as a sign painter apprentice, years ago, from a guy who busted up his knees coming home drunk from somewhere. I would move one of the two ladders as he moved across the billboard. I wrecked mine the slower way, 57 years of crawling and climbing. It’s the job. I can’t blame surfing; wouldn’t if I could.

ADAM “WIIPEOUT” JAMES POST BRAKE JOB #1

ADAM “WIPEOUT” JAMES, poster boy for the HAMA HAMA SEAFOOD empire, helped me with the brakes on the WINDSTAR I bought from him. The previous owner was another surfer, CLINT THOMPSON, a legend among the folks at the Port Townsend Boatyard. I got a very good deal on the rig, but had to wait a while to get the title sorted. I did drive it a bit, owned rather than borrowed, before the brakes totally went out in the middle of Silvverdale.

I managed to drive it (carefully, but, having always owned old work rigs, I have driven with limited braking ability more than once) to my daughter’s house in Port Gamble. I did call Adam en route. NO, not hands free. “What broke?” “Well…”

“Maybe you just need fluid.” OKAY. I have some in the BIG BOY VAN. The problem is one has to take the cowling off the front of the van (or I thought this was necessary) to get to the brake fluid reservoir. I whipped out my ragtag assortment of tools and started stripping stuff off. I added 8 ounces, called Adam. “Pump it!” I pumped it. Called Adam. “Used it all up.” “It was thirsty!”

I tried to call him again. Straight to voicemail. “The mailbox is full. Goodbye.” I sent a text with a possibly sarcastic tone to it, saying I hoped I got my money’s worth out of the van, plus everything I had learned from the internet, YouTube; and said I had almost asked chatGPT. I got a text back, later. from Adam. “Those are the breaks.” Brakes.

Believing I had used up all my brakeless driving karma, and feeling very reluctant to drive the van down Surf Route 101, we discussed other options. All this is with me saying, because it’s true, that Adam did not owe me anything, and I could get the van towed to Les Schwab.

There is way more to this story. Let’s call this PART I.

I JUST REALIZED I cut off Adam’s head. Not on purpose. I think, with my new phone, I have to send photos less than full sized to not have the problems. Anyway, I’m leaving it. Them’s the breaks. OH, don’t get me wrong. I am so pleased that Adammm helped me with the Clintmobile (Reggie has another name for the van- ask him), AND with the Highlander. PART II.

THE PLAN IS I will drive on an upcoming surf trip AND treat Adam to a post surf lunch or dinner at his choice of PA spots. I would be stoked. I mean, I will be.

Here’s a serious-ish poem I’m working on.

TOO LATE FOR THAT

I move at all; I will have to admit I am awake. If I look up at the time, projected in red on the ceiling, I will have to admit I am late. Already. Early sneaks away. Late charges. I don’t want to be awake. Not yet. Soon. Too soon.

If my brain hadn’t already awakened, ticker tape clicking from worry to worry, I could go back to sleep; fifteen minutes to make up for lost sleep at 3:18. Too late.

If I slide and twist and drop my feet to the ground; if I pull back the blackout curtains, the outside will still be pre-dawn dark; wet, a watercolor wash blurring the trees, the brush, the dead van sinking into the lawn gone feral.

The brilliance will break through soon. Too soon. 

I am moving, following, not chasing, the early, blinking in the brilliance.

If I hurry…

Them There Awful CALIFORNIANS

Posted on by under northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, Port townsend surfing, real surfers, surf satire, writings of Erwin Dence

SATURDAY UPDATE: Not all writers and/or artists are anal retentive. Some might be the opposite (anal explosive, I’ve been told- kind of believe it). And while I’m thinking about it, the opposite of PHALLIC symbolism in art and architecture and billionaires’ private spacecraft; and I have noticed this in art and in “Lord of the Rings,” is, I’m informed, by various sources on the internet, YONIC. References the womb. I didn’t get too investigative. Okay, but, years ago, an artist whose work was totally not phallic, told me it was VAGINAL. All this time, I was fine with that.

All that aside, my stuff, particularly on PAGE III, Serious Writing, is mostly written on-site rather than on Microsoft Word, and even if it originally was, I can’t help going back over it, refining, editing. YES, this explains something about my novel, “SWAMIS,” the anal retentive part being how difficult it is to delete something that I believe is kind of decent.

I have a new piece, part of my occasional dream diaries, and I’ve made changes to two pieces on PAGE III: “Between the Walls of Trees,” a short short story, and “Into the Void,” a poem/song. Since I’m stuck on differences, I usually develop songs while driving; repeating one verse, adding others in. Because of this process, I remember the words better than something I write on the computer. BUT THEN, I want the piece to make sense and have a certain flow. Retentive.

Update complete for now.

SEVERAL FRIENDS hepped me to this; it’s a screen grab from this guy, R. Jesus Delacruz (translates to ‘of the cruz’), evidently talking some shit about Port Townsend folks. Not that I don’t. Nothing too serious from me. But, yes, folks selling a mid-priced hone in CA and buying a McMansion here is kind of erksome.

Not sure if he focused on me, or if I was just part of a pan, left or right, but…this was taken at the SAVE THE WAVES event in which a short film, “ERWIN” (available for viewing on the ‘about’ page), was being aired as part of a worldwide tour.

Doesn’t mean I am not from California. I AM A REFUGEE. Of sorts. Sold a house in San Diego in 1978, moved to Quilcene. Two of my three children were born in Port Townsend. Not sure when or where Mr. Delacruz was born, and don’t care.

ALSO, while trying to shed any vestiges of my California-ness, I’m not trying to get him more coverage.

Got to go. Work to do in Port Townsend for folks who are from somewhere else, but not from California. No, no; again; don’t care.

erwin@realsurfers.net

Occasionally I post on Instagram. More often I comment on other people’s posts. Can’t help it. Need counseling. It’s just… putting emojis isn’t, like, much more meaningful than hitting the heart symbol. It’s realsurfersdotnet.

Great weekend for hanging on the beach, any beach, trying to will a swell. Good luck, and thanks for checking out my humbled blog.

Back to Skip (Frye) and Me

Posted on by under Uncategorized

July 28- PAGE VI NOW includes illustrations from 2016. Check it!

July 27- There are new posts on PAGE III, ‘serious writings,’ and PAGE VII, ‘Erwin talks to strangers.’

SKIP FRYE, PB POINT, AND PIRACY

Trish and I got married in November 1971 (she just 19, me a mature 20). We moved to Pacific Beach (PB), first to a one bedroom on Felspar, two blocks from Crystal Pier, then to the La Jolla Bella apartments, just up the hill from Tourmaline. $185/month for two bedrooms, two bathrooms.

And, for the first time since I was a baby, in Surf City, North Carolina, I was a local! Yee-haw (only carryover from babyhood)! I could skateboard or bike down to the pier, or hit the canyon, always hoping PB Point would break or there would be a connecting wall. Rare, but appreciated.

It’s not as if I made friends. There was a sort of ghetto mentality. Head down, no real eye contact. But, I did become known in the lineup and did become familiar with local standouts. I was aggressive, but teenage “pier rats,” led by Joe Roper, were always there, kicking boards at non-stop locals from, like, Claremont.

I had some run ins, but not really with the young guys. This is me, working man, before or after work and weekends. Here is where Skip Frye comes in. He would be out, somewhere on the stretch, navigating the crowd. I was most impressed at how he found waves between set waves, and casually found smooth lines while others were dropping in, bailing if the wave closed out (I meant when) relying on kook cords to save them from swimming. This with, possibly, me behind them, maybe someone within the length of the leash.

As always, I was thrashing and repairing (mostly thrashing) boards. I would go to the Gordon & Smith factory for materials. I often saw Skip Frye. Working. My image is of him, beside a dumpster, possibly trying to figure out if he recognized me. I don’t believe we ever spoke.

NoAt that I didn’t want to.

Somewhere before Trish an I bought a condo in University City (east of I-5…ahhh) Morey-Pope introduced the Waterskate. Thick down rails coming up to a raised line, that dropping to a flat deck. The boards were being produced by G&S.

I wanted one. I had pretty much totaled the cutting edge Surfboards Hawaii twin fin Trish had custom ordered for me. I had a tentative relationship with the PB Surf Shop, having done some graphics and having done menus and such for a hamburger/sandwich shop that shared the space.

Some guys with some connection were trying to sell custom garage soul boards out of the shop. They pirated the waterskate, shaped it, I painted the blank, they glassed it.

I cruise down to Tourmaline, after work, to try it out. There, on the beach, looking at me as if he might recognize me… Skip Frye.

We didn’t speak. Still, I felt a Pirate’s guilt.

The problem with the design was that stress cracks came on quickly, following the ridges. I ended up ripping off the deck’s glass, sanding out the ridges, reglassing. .

I probably bought materials at G&S. That may be where one of my lasting image of Skip Frye comes from.

Last thing: In his segment on “Pinch my Salt, ” Skip mentioned an encounter with a seal ” Out by the boil” at PB Point. One of my fondest memories is of surfing a perfect little peak alone. I took off deeper on each wave. I tried to backdoor the wave, my fin skidded out, my brand new leash dragged me across the reef. I came up with seagrass in my fingernails. And so so stoked!

I should mention thankful. Skip would. Thank you!

I am doing this on my tablet. I have some new stuff on other pages. I will update… Later.

erwin@realsurfers.net

Get a few!

Skip Frye and I, Skip Frye and Me

Posted on by under "Swamis" the novel, Erwin Dence illustrations, Original Erwin, real surfers, surf culture, surfing blogs, surfing for life, surfing novels, surfing Southern California in the 60s, writings of Erwin Dence

UPDATES- NONE at the moment- Saturday, July 18.BUT…

Skip Frye and I, Skip Frye and Me- Several Anecdotes

INTRO-

A sudden, not-going-to-last obsession with classic surfer Skip Frye was triggered by an episode of “Pinch my Salt” showing up on YouTube. I’m fine watching a snippet of the pretty smarmy Sterling Spencer, but I’m never ready to spend an hour plus watching… anyone. This is what fast forward is for. 

This episode promised an interview with Skip; but it did start without him. So, fast forward; though I had to watch a portion where Sterling claimed someone ‘picked his pocket.’  It turned out to be a not unusual ‘chat and steal.’ One of my standard moves.  Or so I’ve been told.

Then, on to the interview. If someone personifies an eighty-three-year-old lifetime (not Skip’s, probably yours) San Diego surfer, no one better fills the role than Mr. Frye.  The hosts were respectful, though Skip was pushed to say something negative about soft tops (he said someone gave him one, but he’d never ride it), surfers who put their names on popouts (almost did because Donald Takayama wanted him to make some real money, but died before it might, or might not have happened), and modern surfing competition, the toughest and truest thing he would say, though he did contests, is that the one winner ruthlessness takes something away from what is often referred to as soul surfing.

Skip, who tries to turn out six boards a week, none cheap, all highly sought after, is still the epitome of soul. Surfing or otherwise.

The other guy on the podcast, Sterling’s cousin Ryan Spencer, asked the viewers to pleas be nice to Skip in the comments. I checked. Not a negative comment in the bunch, and, when Skip pulled out a harmonica at the end and played a mellow version of, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” well, people broke into tears. Or so they said.

TAMARACK, 1965-

My family (seven kids, our mom) was parked in the lower lot, as always. I was a total beginner/kook, just switching over from mat to board. I was probably still sharing my older sister’s (Suellen’s) 9’4” stock Hobie. There had been some sort of contest. Surfers and their entourages were loading up, ready to head home. “Skip was robbed!” “Skip should’ve won!”

I have this image, real or not, in my permanent files: A blond-haired guy shrugging off the comments meant to reassure him. 

PACIFIC BEACH, SAN DIEGO- 1971-1973- Later. I gotta go. But, coming… STEALING a design from TOM MOREY, surfing from Tourmaline to Crystal Pier ala Skip, finding nuggets in a crowded lineup, soul arching, ala Skip, just for the fun of it.

The Morey-Pope WATERSKATE, produced by Gordon & Smith; probably shaped by SKIP FRYE.

ULTRA CLASSIC TRIO- Photo by RON STONER, MICHAEL HYNSON paddling out, and SKIP (never not in trim) SKIP FRYE soul arching at THE RANCH.

I want to stress that I have been doing some research on this stuff. I have always been intrigued by the Hynson/Frye friendship, partially because they seem like such different individuals. If I give Hynson a lot of credit for downrail surfboards, prove me wrong. It was interesting to learn, from the podcast, that they were riding boards Michael had shaped for the 1966 Duke Kahanamoku contest. Cool.

CONTACT- erwin@realsurfers.net InstaGram- realsurfersdotnet

Thanks for checking out my site. Get some waves, summer isn’t really endless.

Borders and Chapter Page and…

Posted on by under Erwin Dence illustrations, northwest surfing blog,, old surfers, real surfers, writings of Erwin Dence

I have some new stuff on PAGE VII, ‘”Erwin Talks to Strangers,” and on PAGE VIII, “Love Songs for Cynics.” I’m doing this as a new post, but will probably move these drawings to Page VIII later.

If I stop writing new material and re-re-re-editing older pieces, I have enough for a book. I need to look through my collection (not that there’s any real organization) of illustrations to find work that goes along with the songs and essays and… And, problem is so much is surf related and/or landscape rather than portrait, format-wise.

MEANWHILE, I ENJOY doing these border things and… I enjoy drawing. YEAH.

AND, more meanwhile, life continues to provide more material. Jeez, an annoying splotch on my. scanner. That isn’t a metaphor. No, ‘course it is. Get some surf. Keep your secret spots secret. Thanks for checking out my site.