ABOUT THE BANANA

In completing the book, Dominic Drive, the one my brother, Rockin’ Ron Lund, started, we include a story about a surfboard. We called it the Banana. It was based on a real surfboard called the Jolly Green Giant.

As described in the book, “It’s a big, ugly yellow [green] board. Most of the guys in the neighborhood learned to surf on it.” This was true. We don’t remember who owned it before Larry or who he sold it to. (Maybe Tom Closser?) Unfortunately, Ron would probably know. He might also know if it was still around and who had it and who the succession of owners were! But he isn’t here to ask.

The one thing we do know is that everyone who bought or sold it paid (or got) twenty-five dollars for the transaction. Every time. No exceptions.

The board had a yellow fin, so when Larry owned it, he cut out pictures of the character from a couple of can labels and epoxied one on each side—just so there would be no confusion about the board’s moniker.

Rockin’ Ron Lund and the Jolly Green Giant

I don’t know if Ron ever actually owned it. This photo might have been taken when Larry owned the board. My brother-in-love, Casey, said he remembers only once when Ron went to Doheny with them. He said he saw Ron start to paddle out, but he doesn’t remember him ever riding a wave in.

Like the character of Dan in the book, he may have tried it a couple of times, but he wasn’t interested in learning how to do it. He’d much preferred to ride his bicycle or drive around in an old car.

He did own a couple of longboards, though. When he got his first classic station wagon, he said he wanted a longboard or two to stick out through the back window.

Larry had an old Gordie his friend, Randy Kiefer, left with us when he moved to Las Vegas. A few years later, we saw him when he came back to California to visit his mother. Larry suggested he take his board back with him.

“Heck, no. You keep it. I’ll never use it again.”

So, it languished in our garage for years. When Ron said he wanted a longboard, Larry offered him Randy’s. He also let him have his own old blue Hobie. Ron put them on his cars for special occasions.

Ron with his VW at his 50^th high school class reunion

In telling the story of Dominic Drive, the tale of the Joly Green Giant (the Banana) was just too good not to include.

Do any of you remember it? Did anyone own it? Do you know what happened to it? Learn more about it in the book

 

More Surfing Memories

Last week, Larry guest blogged about surfing his most memorable wave.

I used to go to the beach, too, but after trying the sport once or twice, nearly drowning and being hit in the head convinced me it wasn’t for me. Since I chose to go along, I decided my role was to document Larry’s surfing.

I started out using an old wind-up 8mm camera. When the camera wound down, the filming slowed. I could only take a few minutes’ worth before it stopped altogether. From the first camera, we graduated to a battery-operated one. As the batteries started to die, the film slowed down, so the pace changed.

In about 1968 or 1969, we edited the bits and pieces together into four separate films, each about fifteen minutes long. We recorded “soundtracks” on our reel-to-reel recorder off-air from our RCA Wall of Sound stereo. Later we re-recorded the same songs onto audiotape. All the music, except for an updated version of “A Summer Place,” is from the same era as the films.

For quite a few years, we showed the films (with the “soundtracks”) to groups of our friends. We had surfing-themed parties where Larry narrated the movies.

In the late 1990s, I took the films and tapes to a service and had them converted to VCR tapes. A few years ago, I had them converted to DVDs. Unfortunately, Larry’s great narration is missing, but the films are fun to watch, even today.

The first one is of Dana Point in the days before the marina was built. Very few films were made at “Killer Dana,” so these are quite rare. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_1Wqx_Oc-tA&t=1s.

This one contains some of our very favorite scenes of Laguna Canyon Road and Salt Creek Beach. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wbmNu5NzIzU&t=47s.

Most of this film was shot when Larry and I were dating. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GtdIN3A6LL8&t=5s.

The last of the old films was shot after we were married and features Larry’s brother, Casey. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0QSkZhkFX3Y&t=4s.

Larry now has a GoPro camera he can mount on his board, his head, or his wrist. He edited and assembled these films and selected and added the music. In these, he is surfing with his friend, Bob Schwenck. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZgxBxvCvs-0

The photos in this video were taken by our friend Richard Zodnik. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FQ9IBrw1LhA.

This is the most recent of his videos. They are surfing at Doheny Beach.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=azqyEoNxwdI.

Hope you enjoy watching these as much as I did taking those I shot and also the ones Larry took with his GoPro.

Surfing A Ten-foot Wave, Sunset Beach, 1988

Larry K. Collins, my husband, co-author, best friend, and cohort in crime is my guest blogger this week.

Having surfed for the past sixty years, I’ve ridden countless waves. Many are forgettable. Still, a few will stay in my memory forever. Even today, I can close my eyes and relive every movement and feeling of the glorious ride.

I decided to describe one memorable ride. But to do it without the surf jargon and clichés normally used to describe the sport and make it accessible to people who have never surfed or even seen the sport. Here is my attempt.

I’m sitting on my board beyond the surf line, facing out to sea. Twenty yards inshore, fifteen or more other surfers, most not even half my age, jockey for position on the incoming swells. I sit farther out, as my ten-foot surfboard allows me to catch waves earlier. They ride the shorter high-performance boards.

Even though I’ve done this countless times, my heart still races as I spot a swell building over the outer reefs, and see the wave begin to take shape. Others see it, also. They begin a hasty paddle out toward me. I turn and start to paddle, arms digging deep into the water. I’ll need speed to catch this one. I glance over my shoulder to position myself. It’s going to be steep.

As the swell lifts the board’s tail, I rise, my left foot forward, my weight pressing the nose down against the wind, right foot steady for balance, knees slightly bent to absorb the bumps and undulations of an ever steepening face.

Before reaching the bottom, I shift my right foot back and press hard on the right-hand rail. The board obediently sweeps right to line up with the wall of water stretching out before me. Two steps forward to the trim spot, the fastest position. I’ll need all the speed I can muster. Behind me, I hear the thunderous roar of the collapsing wave.

My hand dragging on the liquid wall adds stability. My heart’s pumping, mind awake, senses sharp. The wave arches over my head, and in a kaleidoscope of greens, blues, and whites, splashes into the sea beyond my board. I’m in the tube, the barrel. I’m steady in the eye of the storm. Water sheets from the roof above, hitting my face and chest. I blink to clear my vision and crouch lower to urge the board onward.

Then I emerge into the light, out of the tube, and back again on the green wall. Ahead, I see the wave collapse and another tube heads my direction. Time to get out. I sweep a turn to drive the nose up the vertical face, past the lip, and ten feet beyond. I kick the board away, so as not to land on it, and splash on my back into the warm Hawaiian water.

A quick breath, then I feel the pull of the leash attached to my ankle. I’ve made it over the wave. My board did not. I’m pulled backward and drawn below the surface, clawing at the water, struggling against the maelstrom behind me. Finally, the board slips free. I fight to the surface and pull myself aboard.

It’s not over. Another wave looms outside. I stroke for the rising horizon, lungs gasping for air. Oxygen-starved arms feel like I’m pulling noodles through molasses. Offshore winds feather the wave’s crest as I sweep up the wall, over the top, and down the back. Another thirty strokes, and I’m safe outside again. I let out a yell.

It doesn’t get any better that this.