In surfing’s most conservative era, Litmus aimed to expand minds and quivers alike. Twenty years later, its impact is still being felt.
He stood alone, leaning against a mop on a cold concrete floor behind the produce section. Months ago he had been running free, surfing, traveling, and filming around the world. Now he was punching the clock in a shitty suburban supermarket under strips of fluorescent lighting, listening abjectly to Oasis’ “Wonderwall” as it played to
How government learned to love pro surfing and stop fearing drugs
How government learned to love pro surfing and stop fearing drugs.
The Australian journeymen on his pipe win and the future of the tour
The Australian journeymen on his pipe win and the future of the tour.
A profile from our October 2011 issue
“Welcome to your New Religion.” That’s Derek Hynd speaking, shaking my hand after I careened semi-successfully across a glittering waist-high pointbreak on my first finless ride. Free Friction, Hynd calls it. To be honest I was pretty damn happy with my existing religion, which was surfing of the finned, Tom Blake-church-of-the-Open-Sky-variety. But that opening ride, which left me grinning and hooting like a drunk gibbon put all the rest of Hynd’s justifications and deliberations on free friction into sharp, visceral focus. Finless surfing feels damn good, like the first time you slid across a wave, or kissed a girl.