The Journey unearths its essence in the unlikeliest of places.

The Crossing’s objective is to find surf. The other aspects are secondary. Why, then, spend the entire summer and fall trekking up the East Coast of the United States, trudging through the Great Lakes and traipsing down the Mississippi? Twenty-three states in all, knowing full well there would be no waves. Having built up a boatload of credibility thus far, the idea was to share the spirit of the Crossing stateside while avoiding the potential danger of dealing with hurricane season down south. Considering how devastating the season turned out, it was a good call. What the Crossing encountered on its six-month odyssey through America were countless smiling faces that welcomed her into their marinas, their lineups (however puny and gutless they might be) and their hearts. She made a discovery more priceless than any random arrangement of reef and swell parading toward the shore in the guise of a pristine barrel. She found no surf, yet she somehow stumbled upon a cavalcade of happy surfers. Instead of coming away from the journey haggard, she emerged energized. For in the midst of the most pathetic conditions of the entire six-year enterprise, she found stoke.

3 June 04
Cocoa Beach…a city of 12,000, surrounded by water, endless beach in both directions…every kind of boat imaginable…curious locals came by for a look…knowledgeable about surfing and conscious to the state of the oceans…captain and crew getting on the level with other mariners…good old party…dust kicken southern rock band, fiddles and all…”Boy, you in the South, now”…place was packed and everyone buzzing…Timmy Turners: Second Thoughts”…amped surfers watching 20-second tube rides, and here, not a surfable wave for miles…desire has produced numerous local world champions and keeps the youngsters filling their shoes.

8 June 04
Jacksonville Beach surf camp…silky smooth ocean and first surfable (barely) waves we have seen…Matt Kechele runs the show…joined by Dave Awbrey, Heidi Drazich, Mele White, Todd Morcom, and several local watermen…give 100 groms first magic steps into the sport…bizarre how something as innocent as playing in the water will, for many, affect their relationships, goals, lifestyle and destiny.

13 June 04
Atlantic Beach, North Carolina…beachgoers and fishermen galore…surfers flying the rebel flag…another surf camp, the third in four days after Myrtle Beach and Wrightsville…in Wrightsville 300 people showed up to tour to boat…asked Captain Dave Kinder if the Trader was enjoying this leg of the Crossing: “She presently has on the long dress and the pearls…she enjoys it and looks good. But we all know the real girl – wild, the short skirt and lipstick.”

16 June 04
Outer Banks…serious faces above the chart table studying the myriad of hazards and obstacles…most exposed and consistent surf on the coast…infamous for difficult seafaring and subsequent disasters…transit across shallow shoals and into the ocean is the task…Trader designed for open-ocean crossings and isn’t equipped with much power or maneuverability…one engine, an eight-cylinder Gardiner diesel, and a top speed of 9 knots…southern hospitality prevailed as John Bayliss of the Endeavor, a luxury fishing boat, showed us the route to safety…considering where the Trader has been, for her to run aground and meet her final resting place on a mellow summer day in the middle of the East Coast would’ve sucked.

20 June 04
Virginia Beach…inland masses funnel coastward and end up here…wall to wall beach umbrellas and high-rise hotels to infinity…beach-roving cops enforcing where you can surf, where you cannot, and you must wear a leash ($75 fine)…street signs reads “no #*&@” meaning no cussing, also punishable by fine and possible jail time…Dane Reynolds and gang on hand signing posters…shakas and smiles flying all over the place.

23 June 04
Ocean City, Maryland…incredible how a deserted barrier island became one of the most popular tourist towns in the USA…endless lineup of hotels, motels, and miniature golf courses…maintains aura of an old seaside resort…forced to drop anchor mid-stream, then two hours holding steady against the river of current before slack tide…local surfer eager to see the Indies Trader is grabbed by the current and swept into an abyss of swirling water…crisis moment…Captain Jason jumped into the tin boat…zigzagged flawlessly through the rapids and scooped the ailing victim from the deadly scenario…visited by all kinds of stoked kids…a few quality surf breaks here, but not today.

4 July 04
New York…morning was still gloomy…clouds blanketed the sky…into the melting pot…8 million people…in the city less than three minutes…cop barked, “Get back in the car!”…he was agitated, shaking, holding out a badge and pointing a revolver at me point blank…squad cars screeched in from every direction, surrounding our car…worried and confused…due to heightened security, shooting video near bridges and tunnels is viewed as suspect…driven downtown and interrogated by police, detectives, and anti-terrorism specialists…four hours later we were let go…the price of freedom.

7 July 04
Kelly Slater took a New York Post reporter around the boat…showed her the best bunks, where to find hidden snacks in the galley, and how to flush the toilet (dip the bucket overboard to fill with sea water, pour into a bowl, repeat as necessary)…Danny Fuller, Jon Rose, Strider Wasilewski, Mark Warren, Veronica Kay, and Sarah Gerhardt lounged on the deck for a cruise of the harbor…they’ll all be flying out soon to actual surf destinations while the crew is going on two months of not seeing a decent wave…our gills are starting to dry out…Lord, if you are reading this, have mercy and send us a little somethin’ somethin’.

10 July 04
Montauk…hard pressed to find more beautiful and tranquil stretch of coast in the East…small villages, thick forests, open fields, rolling dunes…video screening at Rick’s Crabby Cowboy bar and grille…deckhand Luke celebrating his 21st….sample several of the areas late night establishments, a few swanky upscale hangouts…celebrities rubbing elbows with surfers, eloquent ladies conversing with rough and tumble blokes, and white-boat yachties talking story with calloused fishermen…there’s a lot more to New York than the city.

17 July 04
Yesterday in Cape Cod…climbed dune after dune, hungry for a look…shockingly perfect head-high peaks as far as these sore eyes could see…now anchored in the Piscataqua River, beneath the Memorial Bridge in Portsmouth…eclectic seaside community where the vivid past smacks head on with present day America…motored up to Maine in the warm afternoon glow, framing the Trader in a scene straight out of a classic New England painting…this is as far as we go on the East Coast, and she saved the best for last.

31 July 04
A smooth night of steaming back toward NYC and the Hudson River…awoken by a drop in the motor’s revs…brightness…climbing the wheelhouse stairs to see why we stopped…pry my eyes open and all I could see was…nothing…as foggy as I’ve ever seen, yet blindingly bright…began passing into lush green, clifflined estates…looking ahead to the thirty-some lochs we will negotiate through the canal system.

2 Aug 04
Tying up the Trader is a feat on an ordinary day – 75 feet of steel, 65 tons, no bow thruster, and a measly 165 horse power (the equivalent of a pack of Duracells running an automobile)…today tied and untied her within the imposing confines of slimy concrete walls at least 17 times in negotiating the Erie canal lock system…gates shut with a thud like that of a prison cell…opposite floodgate opens as you rise fairly rapidly up to ground level and emerge back into the light ready to continue…local hobby involves parking by the river and watching the boats rise some thirty feet in the lochs, then jumping back in the truck and meeting the boat at the next lock…or maybe word has spread that a funny looking boat is coming through…one swore she was “back at Woodstock”…covered 43 miles today and are now 360 feet above sea level…jumped in the tinny for a wakeboard session on the sheet glass.

26 Aug 04
Leland, Michigan…treated to an exhibition of lake weather at its ugliest…40 knot gusts whistled across the bow and spray enveloped the decks and wheelhouse…gritted our teeth and carried on…miraculously it all stopped in an instant…afterwards millions of bugs lay dead all over the boat…small drifts of dead critters everywhere…met a guy named Rusty yesterday who had camped out all day on the Mackinac Bridge in hopes of catching a glimpse of the boat…at dark he gave up and headed for home…spotted the Quiksilver logo in the back of the marina as we’d already arrived…stoked to get a tour of the boat…furthest north the Trader has ever been…nearly to the 46th parallel…swamped with wave after wave of folks coming down for impromptu tours…a quarter of the population of the entire town came down.

28 Aug 2004

New Buffalo, MI…I'm a believer! there is surf in the Great Lakes…steamed all night and most of the day…met by a crowd of keen surfers…onshores blew all day…7:30pm grabbed the longboards and paddled across the inlet into protected chest-high peaks…everyone sporting grins ear to ear and telling us to take any waves we want…the better ones reforming on a shallow sandbank and spinning off as good as waves do anywhere…stayed till it was too dark to see…post-surf beverages and talk of even bigger waves tomorrow…caught myself thinking how happy I was that the wind howling onshore…bring it on!

8 Sep 04
Chicago…we have a picture perfect view of the windy city…never imagined such a beach culture could exist alongside a lake…sands are packed with folks sunning, swimming, and playing on the beach…we’ve come across these surfers just camped on the dunes for days waiting for us, just so stoked…winds are kicking up some chop…whitewater smashing over an eight-foot-sea- wall…there must be a surfable wave somewhere in this lake.

12 Sep 04
Henry Illinois…did the town last night…NASCAR on the big screen, Karaoke rocking…our newest addition, a bloke named Martin Daly who happens to own the boat, even kicked up his heels for a dance…through the calm, greenish-black water, passing nothing but forest, wildlife and the odd small riverside village, our time has been slow yet steady…perfect six-inch waves follow us along with ducks, pelicans, and geese.

2 Oct 04
Sun rose over Kentucky Lake and not a sound could be heard…the Trader rocked gently on the golden, syrupy water…seasons are changing and the leaves are amazing…hunters in head-to-toe camo gear, fishermen along the banks, each on the stalking his prey as we do with waves…Tom Sawyer spirit of making a raft and traveling down the river is alive and well, unknown adventures around every bend.

13 Oct 04
Near Biloxi, Mississippi…1:25pm…The Great Loop is complete…Trader was reunited with the ocean, or at least the Gulf…straight into a bit of a beating.

22 Oct 04
Galveston, Texas…awoken yesterday for an early surf…envisioned knee-high dribble and declined…but we’re going tanker surfing…headed out to the shipping lane…friend James kept hooting about the amount of tankers lined up for miles out to sea…set of wakes jumped up in front of us…two of us went, riding for at least a mile…at the dock, people were arriving from everywhere…three tours running simultaneously, ten in a group, all day…”Where does Kelly sleep?”…”Where’s the best surf?”…”How long do y’all stay onboard?”…”Is that really where y’all shower?”

Mississippi sunset.

Tyler and Luke chilling in their quarters.

VIP tour group 1 posing down on the poop deck.