What’s the best 100 you’ve ever spent? Think about it, it’s €100 euros, it can be a night out, a fancy restaurant, a thick winter jacket, a spa day, 5 grams of weed, some shroomies for the homies, a shiny little object for your house. Anything.
Think about it. 100 euros doesn’t get you much nowadays and certainly won’t get you far in the surf industry. Everything costs. Leashes go for over 40, tail pads too, fins go for higher, and boards, well unless you’re in Bali you’re shifting north of 300 for a dinged-up slab weighted down by water.
Surfboard prices in Malta are astronomical. The second-hand market is slender and we’re down to one official retailer for a brand-new one.
And what’s the point of a brand-new board? Yes, sex appeal. Yes that smooth finish, that shiny wax-free body. The novelty, the glory, the statement. The writing of a new chapter. I get it. I too get those cravings.
But where’s the character? You’ll scratch it on your first session, anywyays. And it’s cost you your monthly savings.
I get a lot of joy from old boards. That faded off-white that’s seen too much sun much like my own back. That repair bruise is now a trophy, that scratch is part of history. And you’re not afraid to haul it around wildly or even travel with it.
Old boards often have stickers or artwork tattooed on them, and I love that. If the surfer was a cool human who shredded, that board comes with lots of stories.
A few years ago at the first comp at Marley’s a board was lying down, sun bathing between heats. I walked by by chance, looking backwards as you would checking out a crush on the beach.
Something caught my eye. It was dotted with art, freehand drawings of guitars, cowboys, suns and more.
The art works. The shape. The length. It told a story, opened a conversation.
I didn’t know who owned it but I knew instantly we spoke the same language.
To some people, the board is more than just a tool. It’s a canvas. A big, open space ready for exploration. A simple black pen can do some serious talking. My boards are all covered in art. You’ve seen my pink and blue “jaws.” I spent hours painting that design with my 5-year-old son. Every time I pick it up I’m lifting family heritage. It makes me smile ear to ear.
I digress. Yes finally I tracked down the surfer at the comp. A young dude, a singer-songwriter. We hit it off, like me and the crush I mentioned earlier.
A few years down the line, Hadri was expanding his quiver just before Christmas, and well that exact board needed a new home.
In that exact moment, my Jaws inherited a major ding and while moving house I couldn’t find time to repair it (yet). In comes a message from Hadri. “Bro I’m thinking of selling my Hot Buttered.”
“…”
“You can have it for €100.”
“I’m on my way.”
That’s all it took. I’m not haggling that, that’s a gift from a friend. Oh and 100 included a spare set of fins, a leash, and a tail bad. Wtf. It only needed a Bomba sticker!
I picked it up, and looked at the forecast. A week of mammoth winds. During the holidays, when everyone travels. Fucking perfect.
The first session was simply glorious and it powered my Christmas as I surfed daily on big empty waves. I became care free. Did I care if the volume was a little low for my level? No. Did I ignore the comments? Absolutely. I broke that bad boy in like a wild horse, surfing giants at Ghajn Tuffieha, Golden Bay and even discovered a secret spot with Flynn. It was the single best week of surfing in my entire life. It felt like a private surf camp. Surf, eat, sleep, repeat. A surf camp that cost 100 euros, on my own turf.
Priceless. Well, 100 euros can’t buy you much these days.
This board gives me heaps of joy, and a bond with a friend that continues to grow – two artists, carving their own way.
One day, my time with this board might be up, and guess what? I’ll sell it to you for 100 euros too. Just lemme find those extra fins.
Afterall, €100 can’t buy you much these days.
