This is a journal of my time following The World Surf League through Europe. It is preamble to what may become a personal essay or a book or a few poems or nothing at all. As a rule, I don’t blog, and I don’t do selfies. Not as a rule, I don’t write prose, hang out with surfers half my age, leave my kids for a month or more at a time. I have no contract from a Lit magazine to do this and no way to pay for it. I don’t have a return flight and don’t know where I’m staying more than three days from now. Generally speaking, this isn’t what “adult” men do. But I’ve never aspired to being adult.

The roots of this blog are in William Finnegan’s Barbarian Days, Kelly Slater’s wave pool, and the WSL’s purchase of that wave pool, Kelly Slater’s unprecedented quest for a 12^th world title at 44, Kelly Slater being 44!- The Great White Geriatric Hope For Guys Like Me. William Finnegan winning The Pulitzer. My wonder at whether surfing can truly achieve “mainstream” status or will it always be in a tussle between marketing “stoke,” being a pro sport that shouldn’t be a pro sport, and a mindless pursuit of adrenaline, in and out of the water.

Or maybe I’m just full of shit and I want an excuse to surf Europe. I’ll find out…