I’m a big fan of the crew at Misfit Pictures and the last movie they made – Manufacturing Stoke. It opened my eyes to the DIY community in surfing and inspired me to get out in the ocean, and I bet it will do the same for you.
There next project is just getting started - called What the Sea Gives Me - and you have the chance to be a part of it. There is a Kickstarter campaign to help fund the movie – and get awesome goodies – but first more about the film:
- It will be a feature-lengthdocumentary comprised of intimate and candid interviews with some of the ocean’s most extraordinary ambassadors.
- We will give you an honest and personal look through the eyes of those who thrive under the most extreme water conditions, those ensuring the proper care of the oceans for future generations and those who simply derive a sense of pure joy from the sea.
- The goal is to raise ocean awareness on a global level while reminding the viewer how closely we are all connected to the sea; and, to introduce you to a unique group of people we find absolutely captivating.
It looks to be an amazing movie and I hope you become a part of it.
This little guy is called Glaucus Atlanticus. It is a species of sea slug that grows to around 35 mm. They float partially by means of an air bubble, which they swallow and store in their gastric cavity. They also have a rather unique defence mechanism – they store the nematocysts produced by jellyfish (their prey) in their own tissues to protect against predators.
You’d think a ship designed after a baseball bat would go over like a foul ball when it comes to seaworthiness, but research ship FLIP has been a hit since its launch 50 years ago.
The bizarre research vessel can go from a horizontal to vertical position while staying afloat and stable in heavy seas, even in 80-foot waves. That allows it to perform oceanographic research measurements with great accuracy.
Operated by Scripps and owned by the U.S. Navy, the 355-foot FLIP was designed by Phillip Rudnick, Fred H. Fisher, and Fred N. Spiess, and first tested in July 1962 as part of an anti-submarine rocket program. It was recently shown off in the Pacific for its 50th birthday.
Every trip aboard conventional ships reminds the oceanographer of the value of a stable platform from which to perform experiments at sea. A ship’s natural motions not only make ocean measurements difficult to obtain with accuracy, but it reduces the effectiveness of personnel and equipment. This driving ocean force, among the most powerful in nature, dissipates rapidly just beneath the ocean surface. Even during severe sea storms rolling over several thousand square miles, a layer of relative calm lies a few hundred feet below the unruly waves. This region has become the domain of submarines during the past half century.
In 1962 they were joined by the research platform FLIP, FLoating Instrument Platform, whose great length lies mainly in the untroubled waters beneath the waves. As a result, she is almost as stable as a fencepost and, for those who study the sea, oceanographers, she offers an opportunity for more refined ocean measurements than they have ever had before.
The Floating Instrument Platform, FLIP, is a 355 foot long manned spar buoy designed as a stable research platform for oceanographic research. FLIP is towed to its operating area in the horizontal position and through ballast changes is “flipped” to the vertical position to become a stable spar buoy with a draft of 300 feet.
Making a third try at sailing handmade sailboats on a course for Hawaii, students from Regional Occupational Program model-making classes at San Clemente High School launched three new vessels into the Pacific from Capistrano Beach on Tuesday afternoon.
Under the supervision of Malcolm Wilson, an instructor in the Capistrano-Laguna Beach ROP, about 75 students in three teams designed and built the one-fifth-scale model boats out of surfboard foam and fiberglass. Then they rigged them to sail on westerly and trade winds toward the Hawaiian Islands. Their progress will be monitored via onboard GPS devices.
After signing their names on the hulls and inserting their contact information into watertight containers in each of the boats, the students stood back and watched with friends and relatives as volunteer swimmers guided the boats over breaking waves on their way out to sea.
Wayne Lynch is a surfing legend, blazing individualistic pathways in both the performance and the lifestyle. Ascending during a time of great change and experimentation, Wayne took up the mantle personally, redefining what a surfboard should look like and how it should be ridden. Much of this innovation done outside of surfing’s athletic or institutional complexes.
Today, Wayne’s life is almost as it was 40 years ago. He still shapes surfboards, still lives simply by the sea. Were it not for his recent heart attack, both the observer and Wayne himself, could be forgiven for thinking things had stayed the same, despite how they change. But serious jeopardy to anyone’s health, our surfing heroes included, can have a way of radically altering everything underneath the surface, appearances be damned. A rebirth into the same skin.
In this portrait, filmmaker Cyrus Sutton provides a window into Lynch’s new life. With a nod to Jack McCoy’s Tubular Swells, Another Day in the Life, is crafted with ultra-fine cinematography and a spare and modernist feel. The viewer is transported back to the Wayne Lynch they grew up idolizing, while making current those admirations and anchoring them in the reality of human mortality.
“The Challenger Deep is something like 50x the size of the Grand Canyon”
“The sub actually shrinks 3 inches at the bottom of the ocean.”
“My feeling was one of complete isolation from all of humanity. I felt like I went to another planet and came back.”
The pilot is descending about 36,000 feet (10,973 meters), but his ears won’t pop during the journey; the pressure inside the pilot’s sphere stays constant.
Crammed with equipment and just 43 inches (109 centimeters) wide, the interior of the pilot sphere is so small that the pilot will have to keep his knees bent and can barely move.
Water vapor from the pilot’s breath and sweat condenses on the cold metal sphere and drains to a space where it’s sucked into a plastic bag. In an emergency, the pilot can drink it.
The pilot chamber is a sphere because it’s the strongest shape for resisting pressure—if the pilot sat in a cylinder, the walls would need to be three times thicker.
If the sub’s 1,100 pounds (500 kilograms) of ballast weights don’t drop when commanded, a back-up galvanic release will corrode in the seawater within a fixed period of time, freeing the sub to rise to the surface.