by W.M. Carver
hapers
By: William M. Carver
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Table of Contents
Story
About the Author
Copyright
Shapers
William M. Carver
Copyright 2015 William M. Carver
of this author.
When you’re up in the morning before the sun comes up, there’s always this subtle feeling that what you’re awake to do, is majestic, or set apart from anything that anyone else is doing. I’ve always felt that way. Even when I was a little kid, when my dad would take me out early in the morning and show me a meteor shower on the beach, or the ocean “glowing” from the plankton in the summers, being up before the world is up, is special to me.
My name is Blake, and I grew up here, on the Key. The surf wasn’t always great, so I found skateboarding to be an escape early on. I don’t mean the style of skating that you always here about now, with the flips and jumps, but I mean the concrete waves. I loved the idea that the surf could be shit for a day and I wouldn’t have to sit and do nothing. I could grab my other board and go fast, carving each turn, each street, venturing around to find a bowl or embankment to carve and slide. It was new to me then, growing up, but now I live it every day. I didn’t have to sell out; I never had to get a “real” job. I opened my shop on the Key after high school. Then it was a tiny shack, nowhere near the village, with enough room for a worktable and one display. And now, a bungalow in between two bars, right smack dab in the middle of the village. I have the retail side, and the workshop side, where I can chill out, have a smoke and a drink, and do what I was born to do: Shape.
The problem these days is that everyone is doing the same old thing. The ingenuity of skateboarding lost its glory days in the 80s with Powell Peralta and the Bones Brigade. They were the guys that were there when it all started. I remember seeing them doing little wheelies in Skateboarder magazine at Del Mar, and thinking, Shit, how will I ever do moves like that? I was never too good at skating, but I have the advantage of seeing what the boards looked like and felt like when they first came out, and being able to take those attributes that weren’t complete trash, and apply them to the designs that I came up with, to make the best boards on the Gulf Coast, hands-down.
For me, it has nothing to do with the money, that’s how I’ve always felt. I never had a job that made me rich, but it sure as hell made me happy and still does. I enjoy the simple and little things in life. I don’t need shiny cars and fancy clothes or anything. But, if I make enough to take Sunday mornings off to get out and surf, enough for a pack of smokes and a bottle of whiskey, then I will be a happy man no matter what happens. But, there comes a time, once a year on the Key, which it has to be about all of the things that I know I don’t necessarily need.
Every May, the Village hosts the SK Board Bash, which is great for the town for tourism, it brings in the money that is needed to develop our little key every year without having to charge a toll on the bridge over the Intercostal. This contest is the biggest thing for the skating and surfing business for the Gulf Coast. This is a chance for me to get my new boards of the year out into circulation, and to show all of the other mainstream companies that come out to the Key, that this is my place and that the skaters and surfers that live here and vacation here won’t skate their subpar shit. This is my chance to get CaliFlorida on the map, but at the same time, I need to defend where I work and live from my competitors. I may own a small shop, but I’m not fucking around, no one and no company will take away business from me. But, that is a few months off and I still have time to come up with something new and get the local kids to skate it for me to get the word out. That’s what I like out the youth these days. You tell them to go get something done and if it has anything to do with anything that they are passionate about, they will get it done. No Fail.
Sometimes to get an idea of why I do this, and why my life is complete to me the way that it is, I try to explain it to close friends and relatives, and it goes something like this: It’s 6 o’clock in the morning and the sun hasn’t risen yet. The moon is slowly losing control of the sky. As the moon succumbs to the sun’s vigilant and resilient rise, I approach the beach. This is the best time to get out there. The surf is fresh; fresher than a new pack of smokes. I love the walk from the truck to the shoreline. The smell of the salt hits your nose with the soft morning breeze. When I pan to the left and right field of view, I only see one or two people, and the only thing I hear is me trying to psych myself up before I get out there and the sound of the waves breaking on the shore.
You can do this. You are going to tear this shit up. Don’t back down. You can do this. You’re not going to bail. You’re not a fucking grom. You make the boards to be shredded out here. You can do this.
When your feet first touch the water, it hits you: This instant gratification of finally being at the water’s edge. It rushes through your body, to your nervous system trying to tell your body how fucking cold the water is, but at the same time, you don’t give a shit because you are passionate and always passionate about what you are doing. You jump on top of your board, this time, one of my new models, something interesting with a unique shape. It’s interesting to see how the interesting shapes react when you get them into water and start curving the waves. Luckily, in Florida, unless we are coming off of a tropical storm, we don’t see much higher than a 10-foot break, so nothing too extravagant, but still a good morning activity to remind me why I still wake up this early and to remind me what I am making these boards for.
After getting into the water, the best feeling is the water that gets between your body and the board when you paddle out. The little bit of water that joins you and the board together, without issue. It always makes me feel like the board and I have become one. You’re looking out ahead of yourself, paddling, looking down into the water as the marine life passes below you. The waves further out generate more force, and bigger breaks so you keep paddling. And when you get to where you were planning on stopping to watch for a set, you sit up, straddling your board and look around. It’s so peaceful out there.
When I am out there alone, it’s as if every responsibility that I have just disappears. The sales that I need to make: gone. The bills that I need to pay: gone. The boards that I need to finish that day: gone. I think that that is the reason that I can keep going on in this life, because one session on the open ocean, as the sun begins to rise over the beautifully vast ocean, I realize that that is the purest feeling that I will ever feel, alone, inline with my goals, thoughts and feelings, it’s a great feeling.
I can equate surfing and the waves to my life and goals. There’s always the perfect set, the one that reminds me of life when it is going great, three or four perfect waves, you set up, get ready to paddle and you nail it. You get a great ride with a perfect curl and when you hit the board to paddle out again, you feel accomplished, like there was no better way for it to go. And then there’s the crap sets. The timing isn’t right, the break isn’t high enough and it doesn’t feel right. You try to paddle out and set up but someone cuts in your way and you wipe out. Or you get up and fall and get pulled down by the current, tossing and turning around without feeling a way to get out of it.
Life is just like this. Some days, I have a bunch of guys coming through my shop, picking up boards or gear or clothes, and then other days when it’s slow, no one comes in all day and I wonder where the hell they are. But either way, its something that needs to happen to prepare you for the best of times and the worst of times. This is how my preparation for the Board Bash felt. I was either getting a lot of stuff done every day, or precisely nothing, but it never really came to a lull. It seems like there is always somethi
ng going on. Always some kind of creativity running through my mind like a set rushing to the shore: a new design, a new clothing line, something new that will put my name out there and something that hasn’t been done before. This is what I live for, this is all I need to survive, the basics and the infinite flow of creativity that pulses through my veins.
The Board Bash is a week away and I’m rushing to get everything done. The level of stress that I’m feeling is immense. I’ve been up every night until the sun comes up and I haven’t slept much. I’ve been shaping as many boards as I possible can without passing out from exhaustion. I need to make sure that I have enough inventories to showcase and enough inventories to sell. And I have to split it between