Eclectic sells board GONG A black board to surf longboard newschool. is a fast and stable board. It operates without regard to the trough and fat. It offers above all a very smooth glide in small waves. Light under the feet, thin rails make it a very lively board. Your support is real support of surfing with all the possibilities that this implies. In single is a high performance noserider a hit in a more classical style. Primarily dedicated to light, it is a high performance board for a standard template or a longboard for carrying lights and girls. Indeed, a light jig will feel immediately comfortable with it. Without excessive volume, it reassures immediately because it is 100% mastery. Drive it like a super surfboards member for the lighter. Super finished printing on a ship! This board offers the choice of driving radical longboard for surfing or a sturdy ultra versatile and responsive to light. A walk is a board fast because it is relatively narrow and tight. Low on water, it slips to each oar. And if you place it in single, is a rocket. Stability: Less than 65 kg: carrier and stable. 65 kg to 85 kg: easy on the glassy. Over 85 kg: the current technical and chop. Shape: Rocker: constant curve and without excess. Rails: a very gentle way of square edge and a gradual tolerance in man Though there were head-high rippable waves running for the length of a couple football fields on Day 2 of the Hainan Classic, the second event of the Hainan Wanning Riyue Bay International Surfing Festival presented by Quiksilver, competitors couldn Everything around us just by taste and of course inspires us to work. In this case it was the surf. Although Barcelona's beach is not particularly suitable for surfing such as the Bay of Biscay, sometimes all those surfers who watch every day forecasts can enjoy their passion. And esque surfing is not just a sport, is a way of life and who falls in love test. So this post is why these books as a tribute to the surfer My eyes were before the face of a caveman. The knot and hair done in some places dreadlocks with gold glitter. A cut in the right cheek which bled occasionally, dehydrated skin as sun exposure, 8-day beard and a dusty clothes and sand. I kept staring at my face into the mirror and realized that I had not seen such a good time. I washed my face which was all full of dust and sand from the Sahara desert. My clothes smell emanating from dust and mud. My friends and I were like Iraqi soldiers in Desert Storm. Leaving Morocco was a rather hard decision, there are not many places in the world as the country in northern Africa. The price of the baguette in that realm is 10 cents and most of its costs are still virgins. The Nomad team was on the boat back in the direction of Europe, we had to make two stops. One in Murcia who was in the north of Morocco and from our final destination in Europe, "Andorra". A small country like Monaco or Liechtenstein in the European Pyrenees. Before boarding the ferry to Morocco, our car had to pass a rigorous anti-drug control and anti emigrants. Sometimes people due to the precarious situation of the country are hidden under trucks and travel to Europe that way. Other traffic "Moroccan Gold" or better known as hashish, which is a psychoactive drug derived from cannabis. Is removed by releasing the flowers of cannabis trichomes that cover it. Solid-looking, it becomes malleable when heated. It is brown with red highlights, black, green and gold. Pipe smoking is often mixed with cannabis buds and Snuff and people usually called chocolate. Our car had to go through an x-ray machine, and officers found nothing but skeletons of 13 surfboards, which were transporting on the roof. We rate the seaport, where immigration control is more regal than cheating on a test in ESPOL. The young driver told us immigration: "Do not you bring anything illegal ???", stare at him and said" Not even a camel. " The officer saw three young surfers, a car petado surfboard and thought it was safe to win a bonus and was to be portrayed in the news. "Officer Young surfers catch 3 a kilo of hashish" Spanish parqueáramos told us of the left and we opened the back of our vehicle. I saw his green eyes filled with disappointment when he realized that chocolate were moving was more digestible smokeless. I think the officer thought he would find inside our car a couple of contortionists and a couple of kilos of chocolate (hashish). I had warned them that we had not anything illegal, well almost anything. The price of diesel in Morocco is almost half the price of Europe, so Paul and I in an effort to save 100 euros, we bought 4 cans of 25 liters empty and fill it with diesel. The officer asked us, "the heck have you been there "I would say water, when you hear words that came from the mouth of my friends toilet paper" is diesel, officer, because it is cheaper than in Spain, "I look at my Paul and I wanted propinar a wafer (slap). The officer looked at us and told us: "You are stupid, that illegal contraband is called and now I throw all that diesel." I looked at him and definitely not going to give the taste, first of polluting the environment and second to throw away our investment. So I said: "Whatever you say sir" The immigration officer told us parqueáramos next to the official checkpoint and pour fuel into the drain. We parked on the left side and told Paul to turn off the car lights. Look in the mirror and figure more or less the time it takes the officer to check visitors. The officer arrest someone who brought what was presumed human trafficking. In those moments I told Paul that began to drive and we did it the wrong way and with the lights off. The last time I did something, was a day that we got the car brand "Condor" by the mother of my friend Mark Rivadeneira, who will visit on this adventure. I did not know driving and my friend wanted to go see his girlfriend to the citadel "estuaries", located south of the city. I was 14, had no pubic hair and even worse ideas travel. I started driving the wrong way on Avenue Quito wanting and not wanting good now I was almost in the same situation. The only difference is that this time we were fleeing from the authorities. Our hearts beat faster than with a pacemaker and when we thought we were safe, we realized that there was another migration control less than a km. We stopped and with a cynical smile recontra Officer said: "Good night good officer." Paul looked at me with eyes of "the fuck you say," I wanted to take it back and did not know that he had said this, it may be nerves. The commander saw that our car license plates from Spain and this is going to sound xenophobic but the reality of things and know that we live in a world of barriers. The officer had a walkie talkie, which sounded after we inspected. Don Lopez had received a call that a red car carrying alleged contraband. Fortunately I get another car full of red but Arab and the officer immediately assumed that was that. At such times the rearview mirror torn off and saw the officer honking and making an attempt to run, but we were already on the other side of the rainbow. We drove in the direction of Murcia and that day may drive some 900 km. During the journey, at about 50 km north of the port authority, a police vehicle overtaking us. In was an officer, and Paul look back had magically become toilet paper. To our luck the police car overtaking us and all the worries are over. I fell asleep for a few seconds, when I awoke the car was swaying like manabita hammock. I looked at Paul and his labrador puppy dog eyes were closing. It announced that it was my turn to drive, but before that we took a short nap. I got up awkwardly and were about 8am. Rejoin the path and came to Murcia this noon. Thanks to a GPS gave James Bond movie with the house. To my surprise the main entrance was covered in cement and I began to wonder if Mark Rivadeneira was escuateando at that location or if he got in the night through the window. An elderly gentleman a step closer to our car and asked if we were in the right direction. The lens was taken out and looked our way and I said, is the house number, street name, but in another neighborhood. The GPS could teach us where we wanted to go, so that Don Cervantes explicitly instructed us what we should do. We finally arrive at the address and to my surprise, was the home of the sister of my childhood friend, the home of Gloria Rivadeneira. Mark is not here yet, so we prepared some sandwiches Gloria and Paul took a well deserved rest. Minutes later my childhood friend Mark Rivadeneira arrived and despite the wrinkles on his face and teeth a bit haggard from his cigarette, his smile was exactly that when he was 15. Mark and I studied in the same school, Mark or "Fichi" as his friends called him, took me a couple of years and finished high school course before me. After finishing school, Marquitos or "mad apple", as he was on the beaches began working at a sports store. Their friendship contribute much in the development of my life surfer. Mark was a compulsive spender and money they spend it fell. For those moments I had already started to surf and Mark likes the idea of the beach, so he invested his capital in surf equipment. Which after a couple of months what I inherited, wetsuits, boards, and all the paraphernalia. I was about 15 years and had no car or license. So the mad apple and I were up early to go surfing the best waves, in a town which I saw as the "Neverland" from the book of Peter Pan, the magical place where everything was fun and adventure and never aged. Everything has a price in life and to reach this heavenly place, first you had to go through hell, and this was the journey to purgatory. Mark and I took a bus, a local bus from downtown to the bus station. Drivers already knew us and they thought we had a decedent. Normally we do not want to let go because the dead (our surfboard) was very long and take up much space. After much negotiation and tears allowed us to enter the buses. Once at the bus station or bus terminal we took a bus bound for the provincial closest beach to my city. A 97km of Guayaquil is the town of '"General Villamil Playas". This town has wonderful beaches and a really pleasant climate, unfortunately this was the beginning of the adventure. From there we had to take a chichera (a truck carrying pigs and other cattle) who started from beaches to Engabao. These two small populations was 17km away, which would take less than 10 minutes on a normal road. This was not the case since we delayed us nearly a lifetime in coming. The landscape between beaches and Engabao is taken from a book of the Old West, it closely resembles the TV show "Bonanza." On more than one occasion, the rain took all kinds of road that the district wanted to implement. It was as if the people wanted to be forgotten. Engabao is filled with many myths and legends, apparently the "Tintin" dwells in its surroundings. Ting is like the Chupacabras in Puerto Rico or the Weeping if you were in Mexico. Ting is a kind of elf endemic to our country, and the story is this. If you hear a whistle in the middle of the night, Ting is close and if the whistle is in almost in your ears, Ting is far away. Ting has an obsession with hairy virgins, which is to take his lair. This issue usually takes a very large hat despite his small stature of three feet, his feet are turned so ago. So when you walk in front, in reality it back. 40 minutes later and you were in Engabao with almost broken ribs, and the table full of holes, due to the bumps and the long haul. From there you had to wait for local fishermen to its regular tasks departing the port of Engabao, which is 3 km away. Once the chichera filled all seats, this vehicle was only there from Engabao port. Sometimes there was chicheras and we had to walk through the desert routes. More than once I had to walk all the way, and once I found a wild bull, which seemed to me he wanted to charge. I stared at him until the end of the road and then take a run with board in hand, a two-liter cola apple and a bag of cookies burritos. Stop hyperventilating few feet almost half way and realized I was wearing my red sweater Champion brand as we were going through a summer cold. They say the bulls are dichromatic Dalmatian or rather because they see only blue and yellow and do not differentiate any other color you are moving apart. At those times I did not think scientifically, but I felt that the bull was blood on my luck and I wanted to attack. As is a novice bullfighter, thank God nothing happened more than a good scare. After all this ordeal, finally reaching the port where they had more pigs Engabao that people in that never-never land we gave free rein to our insatiable anxiety surfing. The whole process took 4.5 hours. Mark and I were camping, no tent and no sleeping bags. Indeed the two slept in our surfboard linings. On more than one occasion while sleeping I thought I heard a whistle. Serious Ting?, Only God will tell me when I show the movie of my life before entering the kingdom of heaven. This year I return to my beloved Puerto de Engabao after so many years abroad. Once in the land of Peter Pan camping with my girlfriend Tina, in the middle of the night she asked me where he came from the whistle but I never told the story, as it had had to return to Guayaquil in the middle of the night . Sometimes the road between the port Engabao and damaged due to heavy rains and if I had to walk through such a quagmire. There were many stories about people who died due to storms. Carlos Moreno Kravarovich and I were camping for a couple of days, but heavy rains made it impossible for our return. We waited patiently for some chicha, but none came to our rescue, so we were gifted a couple of weeks with nothing more than a packet of biscuits burritos, a bag of mints ice, a bottle of water, a few vegetables and a book " The Morning of the Magicians, "which I had been presented Mrs. Yvonne's mother" Mama Rock "better known in the underworld as Daniel Pimentel. Thank God Charlie Moreno, had a tent if we had not died of pneumonia. After those 14 days, we decided to go back to walking beaches and we almost died of starvation. Almost two decades have passed since I last saw the smile from my friend Mark Rivadeneira. The feeling I feel every time I see a true brother of the child is indescribable. It is exactly the same feeling you feel when you leave a good tube. Mark has almost 15 years living in Murcia Spain. My friend had arrived here just as the housing boom and jobs were watered as pineapples Miracle. Then came the ominous crisis like the plague, which ravaged Europe, especially Spain. Thousands of Ecuadorians went home with a feeling of disappointment and failure. Mark was one of many compatriots who lost their jobs. But the desire to succeed and know that I had two beautiful daughters to feed his spirit remained far from the depression. Mark has two daughters 10 and Ayla 8 Coral, Coral is studious, calm and very intelligent she wants to be a lawyer. While it seems that Ayla had lice in the buttocks as my mother would say Mrs. Erlinda Cabrera. Ayla wants to be a professional skater. Mark introduced us to his Colombian friends who organized a BBQ on our behalf. That had a great night and the next day we decided it was time to go to meet the unique Afro-European snowboarder I know, "Dani Henry". 0 The time had come, unfortunately we had run out of gasoline, but fortunately we had 100 gallons of diesel and it was the funniest thing to see Gareth Paul and trying to put gasoline on the vehicle with a funnel made of a bottle of water. At the end of the task I believe that at least one third of the contraband was brought flooding the street. Andorra The road was long and tiresome but incredibly beautiful. Andorra was officially my country number 76, that feeling of having collected countries is perhaps the same effect as red beard the pirate experiment to get every pearl for its extensive collection. Our vehicle was climbing the Great Pyrenees, when the car started to cough a white smoke which crashed into the cars that were behind us. He barely got to the apartments and let Dani concern parked on one side and the Berlingo costs below, that had about 20 km which separated Spain from Andorra all downhill. The auto insurance did not cover RBIs Pableros abroad. So if there were any problems we were going to drive downhill in neutral. We arrived at the apartment of Danny and his beautiful girlfriend Veronica Chilean warmly welcomed us. I think most men would have a girl so good, sincere, beautiful and intelligent Vero. The Chilean prepared us a delicious meal, and to meet again with my mate Dani was a feeling indescribable. In the winter of 2010 the fate introduced me to this great man, half Portuguese half African. Dani is the eternal winter and after a good season in Andorra thought complemented by another winter in the southern hemisphere. When the northern hemisphere's winter in the south and vice versa otherwise. Dani and I worked for the same company, I was a snowboard instructor and Dani to pizzas, to complement the omelet, the two lived in the same house. Our friendship grew stronger as the oak tree and we became as one and grime. Dani's visa as well as mine were winning, so we decided to leave for Argentina to snowboard and go back to Chile to renew our visas. We took a bus to San Martin de los Andes, a small city located about 1000 km Santiago. We got off the bus and proceeded to sleepy media migration control. Dani was in front of me and it was his turn to present your passport. The officer took his pass red with gold trim and opened it to page 6. Just when the officer was going to put a stamp in the passport Portuguese. The officer's eyes changed and Mr. whiskers took a phone and made a call. At that moment my heart stopped and told to accompany Dani. I did not know what they would do to my poor friend, Afro-European and I wondered if he had been called by the color of their skin. Dani came out with a smile on his lips and said, "All right brother but I can not continue the trip, I have to return to see the immigration department in Chile and in Argentina we are tonight," I wish him well campante best in the world and I take all your luggage with me to make it easy to get around. Dani had left on his visa by a day, but as we were on the mainland tomorrow syndrome nor are we concerned about it and thought everything was going to be good. Arrive with all my heavy ski equipment and with Dani. I asked if they knew some travelers a cheap hostel and told me he had just a few blocks away. Walk like charger bay with all the weight on my back and get his tongue out at the hostel. Wait for Dani but never came and went skiing. What I strangely enough, was not received, no email, no phone call, or a Facebook post. I did not know then what had happened, I calmed down a bit. I decided to clear my mind and started to fix the bindings of my snowboard. I remembered well that Dani had a snowboard tool in your bag and open the lock, I realized that Dani had forgotten his wallet and phone. Two days had passed and still had no news from Dani. Finally I reach my email receiving tray and Dani informed me that two weeks would have to go talk to the immigration department and may have a pending lawsuit. So talk to the bus company and they confirmed that I could take the package back. With that sense of guilt out of my mind, I went to Bariloche as a hostel boy gave me a ride in your vehicle. Back to my job tasks in Santiago de Chile and I found out that Dani never received their package up to two weeks later and had to walk in the same clothes for 15 days. When one door closes another opens, at the time that Dani was in Pucon, he met many people who helped him and with whom congenial in a unique way, even when I went back, they welcomed me with open arms. It's been almost a year and a half since I had seen my good friend "The Black Dani" and the feeling is the same, it seems that we were back in Chile. Dani has been living in Andorra since 18 years old and has done all kinds of work from "Technical Dishes" (washing dishes), salesman, sales representative, to what he does now. Dani Currently working on BO



