Chris Burkard never thought he’d make a career from taking photos, in fact he maintains it was just something he “sort of fell into”. He also admits that he never even boarded a plane until he was in his twenties. Mind blowing revelations from a man who has risen to become one of surfing and the outdoor world’s most prolific travel photographers, documenting some of the world’s most remote and harsh locations, and doing it all with the keen eye of a trained landscape photographer.
“I would use my camera as a means to document my quick weekend getaways,” remembers Chris. “Almost as a way to prove that I was there. I never travelled at all as a kid … ever. I don’t even think I got on a plane till I was in my twenties. A camera was my golden ticket to get out of my small town. It was my vehicle to see the world. It was the creative method that really stuck with me – the opportunity to be in the moment. I did art in high school and loved it, so that was all I knew, but as soon as a camera was in my hand it changed. No longer was I stuck drawing or painting from a distance, I was part of the moment.”
Four Surf Trips That Will Make Your Heart Sing And Your Wallet Bleed
Words: Ben Mondy
Cash rich and time poor? Or simply dreaming of that perfect surf trip? Or maybe you have a credit card and ain’t afraid to use it? Well, these next four surf trips come with cocktails, infinity pools and world-class waves. They don’t come cheap, and so they won’t come often, but if you want to add a splash of luxury to your quest for barrels, they are hard to beat.
The House That Foo Built
Lost Souls And Soulless Shenanigans At A North Shore Institution
Words: Jed Smith
Ivan meant well. But he was having a shocker tonight. He’d come home pissed from Surfer Bar, the cheesy fuck factory on the North Shore of Oahu, and at 3am I’d woken to the sound of water hitting linoleum. “Ivan. Ivan!” I’d yelled flicking the light on and off. “Dude, you’re pissin!” It was no use. He was out of it. A whiskey trance. I’d known the feeling. I’d pissed myself once before in South Africa during an acid psychosis. But at least I’d done it outside (more by chance than anything if I’m to be truly honest).
I hadn’t known Ivan long. We’d met on our first day at the House of Foo after I’d taken an interest in his Pipe quiver. They were good boards. The kind of boards that suggested he knew his shit – long, smooth out-lines, a good amount of rocker, mostly quads. But Ivan didn’t know his shit. I’d gone surfing with him at Makaha shortly after where I was horrified to find he was a kook. A tiny 40 – something Brazilian kook, who looked uncannily like Mole from Wind in the Willows when dressed in his little Rip Curl wrestling suit with his hair all slicked back.
A few days after meeting Ivan I’d woken to him noisily masturbating in the bunk across the room. The squeaking bunk woke me up. The faster he wrenched at his cock the louder and quicker the squeaks. “Sie puss. Sie puss. Ohhhhh, sie puss,” he was saying, apparently into his phone. He’d hidden himself behind a yellow privacy blanket hanging from the bunk. You could hear the moist glugging of lubricant. He was one of those real indulgent wankers. You know, the kind that really treats themselves when they jerk. It was foul.
Plus Bonus DVD: Know Where To Go
Know Where To Go is a surf adventure film by Tom Rawlins set in the wave haven of Indonesia. Three different and unique surfers explore the treasures in and out of the water through Bali and Java. Join up and coming rookie WCT surfer Dimity Stoyle, big wave charger Andy Schwartz and every entertaining James “Woody” Wood as they discover where to find Nirvana in Indonesia.