The most dizzying time of year

It was a solemn drive to the beach today. Brain ablaze with responsibilities. To-do lists needing strike throughs. Gifts bought, gifts not yet bought, gifts not yet even thought of. Fog outside the car window. Mist. Haze. In-between swell days. “How good could it be?” I thought driving down, feeling a little guilty to be going surfing with a to-do list in need of serious attention. “Gotta get wet though, everything will be better, etc.” I had to uphold my reputation as a surfer who skirts all responsibilities to go surfing. Our finest quality.

You see, while many of us are already waist deep in egg nog and meatloaf the Friday before Christmas, ready to clock out until January 2 or beyond, I’m still wielding a sword, fighting the end of year dragons and phantoms and shrubbery that lurk in your inbox when you operate an indie media giant like Inherent Bummer. Things done. Things undone. Trying to button everything up. Get projects going for next year. There are plenty of end of year heroes (friends of the Monday morning hero) trying to get things over the line before 2025. It’s dizzying.

Couple that with a run of prolific “La Nina” swells that are embarrassing El Nino’s of the recent past, it’s been a December smorgasbord of surf. The last day of Pipe Masters (or whatever you call it now) was monster and exciting if you had the right pirate link. Highlights including Erin Brooks’ closeout pack. Koa Smith’s doggy door exit. Mason Ho’s almost. And Nathan Florence’s win (while simultaneously hosting a pirate broadcast of the event) is hero-worthy. Our party with Reef went off and I got to share an elevator ride with the royalty that is Michael Ho. The freaking Eddie is running on Sunday! The entire West Coast is about to light up like Whoville until we ring in the New Year. But I was still aloof. My wax was dirty and I didn’t even care.

I wouldn’t say I was moping, but I wasn’t exactly blasting Pennywise to get psyched. I was listening to our Best of 2024 playlist (coming out on Monday) but still, I was distracted. Dejected even. I wasn’t thinking about surfing. I was working through tasks and how to order them. I didn’t even look at the waves. I just put on my wetsuit and walked down the cliff.

I knew something good was happening by the joy I saw in the eyes of two locals coming up the cliff, dragging their feet wishing they didn’t have to go to work. It was peak high tide so I wasn't really seeing much through the lulls and it wasn’t until I rode a wave that I realized it was on. And there was no one really out but the usuals. We surfed in pure local hometown bliss for an hour or two until Archy cursed it, validating the session with the most classic “Inherent Bummer” surfer lines of all time: After speeding down the line and belting one to our hoots, he paddled back out and said, “It’s so glassy out here…I can’t even see the waves .” Just like that it was over.

A few minutes later, and with cinematic timing: the wind puffed up and crumbled our glassy super session, sending me back to my inbox. Bummer. On the bright side, it gave me just enough time to mail you this reminder to blow a few things off this holiday season and have yourself a surf bender for Christmas. 2025 will be better off for it.—Travis Ferré 

[Above artwork: Bridget Riley, Current, 1964]