“I totally understand where Ashton Goggans is
coming from…”
Charleston, SC, USA (traditional home of
the Kiawah, Edisto, and Yamassee peoples) is a reverse
boom town.
Meaning it’s going through now what
Florida and California went through decades past: skyrocketing
prices, land being flipped daily by dirt pimps, a Starbucks on
every corner, microbreweries sprouting up like mushrooms, stag and
hen nights, a top 10 shopping corridor on King Street, and all the
tensions between locals (if you’re not 5 generations deep, you’re
not a local), tourists, and Boomer Yankees moving in to retire that
you’d expect.
In short, it’s Disney World for rich white
people.
The other thing Charleston has is one of
the most gorgeous ecosystems on this sweet planet Earth: the
intertidal marsh. The marshes here are some of the most biodense
ecosystems given the pluff mud (what a perfume, especially at low
tide), spartina reeds (their tannin as they decay makes the waters
here a muddy brown and helps all the bacteria that form the vibrant
trophic pyramid), oysters (millions of them filter feeding and
cleaning the waters, and you can hear their shells open and close
as the tide shifts), dolphins and turtles and egrets and fish and
sharks and shrimp, and all the over-60 wannabe pirates playing
pickleball and listening to Jimmy Buffet in their khakis and
loafers and trucker caps while out on their boats you can shake a
mint julep at.
There’s also a surf scene.
Hard to imagine this, as the waves suck.
Dogs drinking out of a dog bowl generate higher waves with more
power. Men aged over 50 suffering through colonoscopies every 5
years are getting more consistency than the weak shit here, outside
of hurricane swells which are as dependable as Gamecock football
tearing up the SEC.
Despite this utter lack, there’s still a
surf scene, with accomplished shapers, photogs and videographers,
surf shops, surf brands, and a handful of short and longboarders
who are regionally competitive and, if given some sponsorship
opportunities to travel to real waves, would actually do some
damage on the QS, men and women, both.
It’s this scene I’ve been on the far
periphery of going back to the 1990s when I moved here to finish
out high school, and the vortex of Charleston that has sucked me
back in off and on ever since, and have seen evolve over those
years.
Same shitty waves breaking the same
shitty way, but somehow feeding a community of stoke.
And I ventured into this community
Thursday night, as Cam and Kelly Richards were invited down from
Myrtle Beach to talk shop with David Lee Scales for his Surf
Splenor podcast.
And along for that ride, half of BG ownership, Mr. Charlie
Smith.
What’s it like to stalk someone you don’t
consider a hero, and who only exists in your mind as a BeachGrit
provocateur but who, I must admit, gives 100% at work (10% on
Monday, 25% on Tuesday, 40% on Wednesday, 20% on Thursday, 5% on
Friday, off on Saturday and Sunday…light a candle)?
In shame I admit not only did I go to
this event (all things being equal, Cam Richards has to be a legit
top-10 surfer on the planet right now), but that I stuck around
after and introduced myself to Charlie.
Here’s what I learned:
- He’s tall. Should be running point guard
on a men’s over-40 league pick-up team. - His hair. Half of his body movements are
spent pulling the hair out of his eyes from this one little set of
locks in the back of his head that hang down over his
eyes. But maybe
it’s some literary affectation where he can tug at it while
dropping in some reference to an author no one else except maybe
Longtom has read.
Personally I wanted to take a razor to it and just ease his
self-inflicted pain. - His face–entirely slappable. I
understand where Goggans was coming from.
- Sense of style–accomplished, in a living
out of a suitcase way. Slip ons, button up shirt with top buttons
open (waxed chest), but the cologne…my wife asked me if I’d been
out with another woman upon my return home. - MC capabilities–very quiet, actually.
Spent more time hoovering beers and dropping an occasional f-bomb,
than anything else. Voice is much more
high-pitched than expected, too, given his height. And,
surprisingly, Kelly and Cam took Chas and his few questions
seriously, but that was probably their Southern hospitality coming
through. - Family–loves his wife and daughters.
Came out often. A fierce and eager love. - Surfers–The People. Not the pros or
industry. The People. It came out that he also fiercely and eagerly
loves this little community of anonymous misfits that have
aggregated around him and DR like barnacles on a boat in Charleston
Harbor. What’s crazy is that some in this community love Chas and
DR and BeachGrit so much they will even fly in from New York City
for a one-night live podcast event in Charleston, wearing a vintage
BG hat (respect, BG brother).
I’d personally not go that far (see #3,
above), but I would suggest that if Chas is visiting your town for
an event, to track him down.
He’s outgoing, patient, and even, I
daresay, kind. He’ll listen to what you’re saying, not lord over
you that he’s probably twice as smart as you and has been to all
the cool cities of the planet (and to Yemen), and will cheer on
your surfing stories.
In this world of AI pish, masturbatory
surf bro-culture, and overcrowded lineups, it’s nice to still have
a little grit. While his online persona is one thing, Chas’s real
life presence is actually that of an open, respectful, and patient
listener while sprinkling some of that grit into an industry that
takes itself too seriously, an industry that does so at the expense
of realizing most of us do this surfing thing because we just love
being in the ocean, and being around people that feel the
same.
My guess is Chas does all of it because
of that same love.
