Surfing Cool @ The Mr Price Pro

I don’t know if it is something they work on, or just something that happens as a result of a lifestyle, but Surfers own “cool”. The Mr Price Pro comes to town and there just seems to be an increase of good looking healthy people that have a style, language and attitude of their own. The rest of us normal folk can’t seem to wear a hoodie and slip slops without looking like we are trying too hard. Anyway.. I now own a surfboard, and over the next few years I plan on arriving at some level of “surf cool”. I will let you know how that goes.

In the meantime however I will be watching from the beach as these “wavemongers”  carve trails into the surf at dawn. This morning saw the Mr Price Pro competition kick-off and the weather seems to be playing along nicely. Check out some of the pics below:

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Coastal Forest Trail Run

My knees sound like a freshly prepared breakfast cereal when I walk up a staircase.

I know the all consuming burn of chafe on kilometre 40 of a marathon and that the comrades marathon smells pretty bad at the start line.

I have tripped on a cats eye, knuiped for a hour while hunting desperately for a petrol station and shuffled up Polly Shorts like a ninety year old.

And so with one whole road ultra marathon under the belt, I can confidently say that I gave it a good go, and while I was chuffed with myself, I am not rushing back. And so, predictably the running shoes started gathering dust at the back of the cupboard.. and then along came Trail Running.

I would like to say that it was a decision I made myself, but actually my wife and I  were “peer pressured” into the sport by family members who already spent enough time in remote mountain regions to start growing lichen on parts of their bodies. Despite early protestations, I soon found out that my knees loved it, I got to see spectacular parts of the country, meet some really cool people who took part, and there was cool (expensive) equipment to feel guilty about buying! It was my kind of sport.

The marriage of adventure/survival/high performance gear and a lumo trend in sporting gear meant that events at those epic locations lent themselves to great photography, and so soon the “adventure photographer” was attracted to the sport. These silly fools have fire burning in their sweat drenched eyes, and they operate like mountain ninjas, quietly and effectively taking photos of one in the middle of ones physical torment.

Runners will be at their most ungainly while stumbling across a stream, or be fighting back a bout of nausea after cresting a mountain top, and one of these intrepid ninja fellows will appear out of nowhere (having hiked with all their gear to the same spot that makes all the trail running gear feel a little OTT) , and flashes will fire from hidden spots around you for a photo of you at your most exhausted.

I opted for a different approach and chose a location close to a parking lot. I called a good friend; Blake, a local trail runner and part time male model,  and found a spot that would work for a series of shots with strobe, trial and error. We never moved more than 100 meters from that spot, but I reckon Blake probably did a 10km in that time.

These were the results: 

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“Happy” In Ballito and Salivating in Hout Bay

With 25 000 views and still growing, the Pharrel Williams song “Happy” music video adaption for our home town Ballito, is a roaring success. Tim Johnson at Seeff Dolphin Coast was the brains behind the video, and he features in it along with a whole bunch of familiar Ballito Characters. The guys at the popular website “ILoveBallito.com” were also involved from the beginning, and credit has to go to the team at Helimot Productions, who went way beyond the original brief to put the video together.

It just looked like a hell of a lot of fun, with real people throwing out some really great (and some really bad) dance moves at locations that every local and most regular holidaymakers would recognise. And at the end of the video you’ll find yourself grinning and bopping your head and hopefully considering a well deserved break in my favourite little home town.

http://youtu.be/OjFyf4kBJMg

And before the year runs away from us entirely, I have to report back on my little big brother’s  restaurant in Hout Bay! What a cool, eclectic venue with cracking good food! We visited Delish a few months back and used the opportunity to do some shooting in order to update the restaurant’s website gallery.

A word of warning if you ever decide to dabble in food photography. Its kind of like doing a food shop…never attempt it if you are hungry. I was salivating while balancing f-stops and shutter speeds, and ultimately dived in head first to a few of the meals prepared for the shoot, the very moment we had the shot we were looking for. Perhaps not the most professional of behaviour and yes… we came back from our visit to the Cape a few kgs heavier. I blame that day of shooting at Delish for starting the “holiday eating landslide”that ultimately occurred.

Scrumptious is the word. Definitely. Check out the website here, and definitely give it a try next time you visit Hout Bay.

While I was happy with the images we shot, I left Delish slightly frustrated, as I didn’t feel like I had truly captured what was going on around me while I was shooting. What you don’t see in the photos are the two old gentlemen ensconced in the corner of the restaurant playing chess on a Thursday as they have done for as long as everyone can remember. You can’t see the resident cats that patrol and purr their way around the patio as if they own it. You can’t see the slightly eccentric regular artists that have multicoloured splashes of paint on their clothes and hands. You can’t hear the humming of the waitress as she goes about her work, or the swishing of the leaves that shade the facade of the restaurant. The efficient cleaning, polishing and organising of the  Barista/Barman doesn’t translate well into images,  and most of all you can’t see my little big brothers friendly, beard surrounded grin as he proudly watches over all the activity.

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