WRESTLING ELEPHANTS

By Jamie Brisick

DEREK HYND AND THE FFFFFFFOUNTAIN OF YOUTH

Recently I caught up with Derek Hynd in Byron Bay, where he was working on a fleet of 49 finless surfboards. They were vibrant and kind of crude looking—asymmetrical, Flintstones-esque. Like Derek himself, they asked you to think about the world—the wave—differently. They had four Fs on the bottom. “Fffffffff!” I said. “Exactly, James. Not f-f-f-f, but fffffffffff. That’s what finless surfing sounds like.” We drank carrot juice at a nearby health food store where barefoot earth mamas perused the organic veges and wafts of patchouli and strong pot commingled in the bulk food aisle. We checked the surf at The Pass, but it was a mess. Derek was enchanted and loose at the hips, a one-eyed Peter Pan. As of this writing he occupies the #1 spot on my “Men I Plan To Sleep With When I Come Out Of The Closet” list.

March 15, 2013