So…this happened.
Is it really August already? Are you kidding me? This year is flying by like nothing else. Paying someone admission to surf a wave is now a real thing. We are officially over the hump in another year on Tour. And we are now closer to the coming winter in the Northern Hemisphere than the one behind us. So it kind of makes sense that another week got away from us pretty quickly too, right?
Video of the week:
My John John man crush has been well documented here. And I don’t know if his newest film is going to get me incredibly charged up or incredibly depressed. The man is superhuman. The cinematography is mind-blowing. In fact, I think it was the cinematography that had me most glued to this trailer all weekend. Watch it again and tell me the lineup shots, the scenics, and all the dramatic flare tossed into this minute and thirty seconds doesn’t have you screaming “What’s John John going to do?” Something about this film is going to be special and the wait will be well worth it.
From The Tour:
We have a new Tour leader in the ladies’ rankings, everybody. Carissa Moore led Cortney Conlogue by less than a thousand points heading into the Vans Us Open of Surfing, and when Moore got bounced from the event in the quarterfinals, all Conlogue had to do was make it through the same heat for the top spot. We’re seeing shakeups in both the men’s and women’s Tours with the second half of the season starting. The next time we see the ladies will be at Trestles. It is going to be a cool new look when Cortney Conlogue paddles out with the yellow leader’s jersey.
Good on ya, Cortney!
What’s Blowing My Mind:
I love this video. I’ve seen a million Teahupo’o videos over the past week, but there’s something about the natural sound audio track full of hoots that gives me the chills here. You can be dramatic with slow mo wipeouts or crazy music all you want, but none of that really helps you imagine you’re in the thick of it. When I’m out with my buddies and somebody gets barreled, I throw out a hoot. It’s as simple as that. When wave after wave at Chopes spits somebody out in a cloud of glorious mist, or claims another victim, this lineup is a nonstop hooting soundtrack.
