Swell

Patagonia is on its way to becoming one of the most exciting surf publishers on the planet. Surfer Today

Préface
Amazing Social Marketing Platform: 100,000 Instagram Followers to @captainlizzy Over 30,000 Facebook followers, over 50% male Over 20,000 blog followers from all around the world Featured in a 6-8 minute film made by Chris Malloy of Farm League Featured in Patagonia Spring catalog (1.1 million in home, drops in early March) Featured in Patagonia Surf catalog (1.4 million in home, drops in April) Liz will be the face of the Spring 18 Women's Swim campaign, featured in stores and through all media outlets Support from Patagonia social media Support from Patagonia Books social media Nationwide tour (and Canada and Hawaii) T-shirts and hats with illustrations from the book posters available

Auteur

When Liz Clark was nine, her family spent seven months sailing down Mexicös Pacific coast. After returning to land life in San Diego, she dreamed of seeing the world by sailboat one day. While earning her BA in Environmental Studies from UC Santa Barbara, she fell in love with surfing. After college, she turned her voyaging dream into reality, sailing south from Southern California through Central America and the Pacific Islands. For more than a decade, she has kept her nomadic ocean lifestyle going through writing, blogging, photography, representing conscious brands, and earning recognition as a surf adventurer, environmental activist, and captain. She hopes to inspire people to live their passions and reconnect with nature and our inherent oneness. She was featured in the film Dear and Yonder (2009), and nominated for National Geographic Adventurer of the Year in 2015.

Texte du rabat

Sailing Ten Years and 20,000 Miles In Search of Surf and Self

Résumé
Sailing Ten Years and 20,000 Miles In Search of Surf and Self

Échantillon de lecture
Ripple Effect On my own again, I lean back comfortably against the trunk of a slanted palm, and watch the waves still funneling through. If it all ended now, I think, that would be okay. I made it through this afternoon's session without a reef cut. A crew of good vibes Tahitian guys was out, sharing waves and cheering each other's rides. I'm relaxed and content after the thrill, camaraderie, and exercise. Pink hues begin to flash across a thick swab of clouds overhead and color the water's slick surface. A moment later, it begins to rain. When the fat, widely spaced raindrops hit the lagoon, circular ripples undulate from each drop. Suddenly thousands of raindrops fall before me. The movement of the expanding rings through the rosy water triggers some kind of trance. I watch the droplets transform into mini-swells of energyvarying wave amplitudes crossing over each other from all directions. Dynamic, chaotic, brilliant. Both infinite and finite at once. Time freezes and it feels as if my consciousness is floating. I am the raindrop, and the cloud, and the sky, and the setting sun. On this unusual frequency, I feel the connectedness of all things, a sensation of deep belonging. All one and simultaneously separate. Feeling becomes understandingthe great dichotomy dissolved. In this strange, brief moment, I am expansive like the Milky Way, minute like plankton, powerful like the tides, as solid as the volcanic crater, fragile like a spider's web, patient like the trees, and empty as cloudless sky. Times and events flash through my mind like a sudden wind: Joining my kindergarten circle. My auntie spreading fairy dust for my sixth birthday. Capsizing in the bay in my little sailing dinghy. Taking a taxi to gymnastics practice when I was grounded. Beaten to the shore by the whitewater. Sneaking out my bedroom window. Pranking the lifeguards with my high school girlfriends. Rolling in the hot sand. Knocking on my first boyfriend's door, there's another girl inside. Accidentally eating a pot brownie before my classes at UCSB. My first wave at a point break. Dancing with my mother and curled up on the soft blessed spot on my father's chest. They are sad and joyful, painful and surprising. But they all brought me to this mystic moment. All my knowing is unimportant. The facts and data have no relevance to this feeling of deep integration; oneness. There is no escape, but I don't want one. In another breath I am back under the palm: the rainfall has lightened to an effervescent hum, the pinks are fading to grays, and the mosquito biting my toe reminds me that I am back in my skin. I slowly rise to my feet and wade out to the dinghy, to maneuver home through the coral heads before dark. Conversations with the Clouds I'm ready for big skies, open horizons, and wild islands after all those months in the boatyard. It's time to put some miles under the hull. My dad's reassurance helps me feel more confident about setting out on an extended solo passage again. I'm feeling strong and proud to see how my enhanced self-awareness and inner healing have eased my personal suffering. I haven't had feelings of depression in more than two years. The more I feel connected to the world and beyondthrough my expanded compassion, my mystical experience by the lagoon, and the growing group of conscious people I've connected with through my blogthe more potential I see for myself and humanity. But a new question burns in me: how does Melanie's wisdom and the idea of oneness fit into my passion for protecting nature? Everywhere I look, I see Western ideas of separation, unlimited economic growth, immediacy, and greed compromising the Earth's clean air and water, healthy soils and oceans, and the stability of our climate. I'm sad to see the changes even here in Polynesia, where native culture has been eroded by the new god forced upon them since colonizationmoney. Vast knowledge of and reverence for their ecosystems is disappearing because it's no longer valued in the same way. Every day, I fish plastic out of the lagoons en route to and from Swell. Massive containerships arrive daily to offload fossil fuels, processed foods and sugary drinks, and cheap plastic imports that quickly end up in the landfills. The coral is dying off around Tahiti and fish populations are clearly declining. People eat more and more imported meats and packaged food, contributing to high rates of obesity and rampant diabetes. The stores sell harsh pesticides to kill bugs and chemical soaps and wash our dishes, clothes, and selvesall of it ends up in the waterways and oceans. Diesel generators run day and night, releasing carbon into the atmosphere and leaving behind barrels of used oil that's rarely disposed of safely. Our fossil fuelbased economy means virtually everything we do releases carbon one way or another. Climate change impacts will be devastating here--the melting poles causing rising seas that may swallow the low-lying atolls and islets altogether. In the meantime, cruisers drop anchor on live coral, and our hulls release heavy metals from anti-fouling paint into the pristine waters. As much as I try to live lightly, I'm still a part of the problem. It's overwhelming, really. I want to dedicate myself to an environmental cause, but it's hard to pick just one. They're all so interconnected and complex, and I know I'm up against huge forces of greed. All that's in my power right now is to change myself. I can further simplify, keep educating myself on the issues, buy less stuff I don't need, and use my dollars as my voice when I do make purchases. On this trip through the outer islands, I want to try to eat more from the local environments, instead of relying on imported foods with their high carbon footprint. After hearing about my idea, Barry writes back: Your observations are pertinent. . The latest studies show that a rapid shift away from fossil fuels is inevitable for life to continue as we know it on this planet. Try not to be discouraged, though, Lizzy. What you're doing out there is imp…