If you were around the Ventura/Santa Barbara area from 1969 through 1973, and had even a passing interest in hull/stubby surfing, Richie West was a one of your heroes.
Much like Skip Frye down in San Diego, Richie was (and still is) a blue collar icon. He built boards and surfed. On any given day he was either wearing a wetsuit or breathing through a respirator. If Rincon had a ripple over 3 feet, he was out at the Rivermouth. If you went by the Wilderness shop, Mike or Peter may or may not be there...but Richie was, covered in dust and anxious for you to leave so he could get back to work.
Before leashes, he surfed like he was wearing a leash. Wrap around cutbacks and deep tube rides that ended in a swim were commonplace. Any opportunity to stuff himself into the pocket was taken, without regard for the outcome. Again, like he was wearing a leash. But he wasn't. He was willing to pay the price in dings and swims to push his surfing forward.
Watch how many times he gets eaten during the Poison Oak Point sequence in Crystal Voyager. Then think about the gnarly rocks along the edge of the break there...
His boards were beat-to-shit, but he didn't care...
The 5'10'' stubby in this picture was his daily rider, and he kept it going for years with repair after repair.
I was looking through a stack of old photos a couple of days ago, and came across this shot I took of Richie at the Rivermouth in 1972...
The irony of this photo (at least in terms of this story) is that Skip Frye was out this day too. That's when I first realized how similar their souls were. Two of the hardest core surfer/builder/watermen ever, of all time.
Richie West left Santa Barbara for Australia in 1973 and took his talents with him. Here's his current web page.
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Addendum:
This is a 6' 0'' Richie-inspired hull I shaped back in the mid-90's. It had been over 20 years since I'd seem him surf, and I was still under his influence...
Addendum 2:
At the far right is the number of page views after this post was up for only three days...
1 comment:
When there were only red "Roller Derby" skateboards, Ritchie West was riding one a couple of miles to Hillcrest junior high school in Redondo Beach, California every morning. He was the first "real" surfer I ever met and that was in 1960. Us classmates of his were in awe of him. You've got to understand that this was before the Beach Boys were getting played on the radio, when Surfer magazine was an annual. Ritchie stayed true, was a "real surfer" all of his life. He was in love with the ocean and with life. He had his priorities straight--family, then friends, then the sea and finally craftsmanship.
I moved to Manhattan Beach a few miles and another high school away. So from that point on, we were always slightly removed from each other, but I kept hearing about him from mutual friends. We re-contacted on Facebook a couple of years ago. He hadn't changed from the stoked 12 year old I knew so long ago. He lived his life right, rich in experiences! Goodbye friend, may your go-outs be always glassy.
Speedshaper
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