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CHASING T I D ES CO LLECT I V E M A GA Z I N E ,

ISSUE 1

C O N T E N TS

All words, design, and photography, unless otherwise noted, done by Ryan McArthur, Nick Northern, and Tim Homa.

C H A S I N G T I D E S C O L L E CT I V E

Nick Northern ;)

The three of us are from the Mid-Atlantic. Tim and Ryan are both from outside Baltimore, or “Ball-de-mor‘‘ for those native Marylanders who turn the letter t into a soft d. I am from right outside of Richmond, Virginia. We all share an affinity for the region renowned for blue crabs and the Blue Ridge. What does the Mid-Atlantic entail? A little bit of everything is probably the best way to simplify it. If you grew up in the central region of any of these states; New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, Pennsylvania, and New York - we also love North Carolina dearly - then chances are you grew up within two hours of both the mountains and the coast. We know the mountains out west are bigger, but that doesn’t make us love ours any less. We also have the Atlantic. Oh, the Atlantic. Our fabled femme fatale that has implanted herself to our bosom. She gives us life. She harbors the moments in which we feel most alive. We learned how to drink beer on her shores. Learned how to fish in her estuaries. I‘ve had her sand wedged between my butt cheeks following nights of nefariousness. Her gifts are confidence and humility. She’s breathtaking. Especially when pinning you to a sandbar, or as a result of being cold as shit in the winter. The Atlantic was, is, and always will be the driving force behind Chasing Tides Collective. We never fatigue from life on our stretch of the East Coast.

What we do get tired of, however, is work. Monday through Friday, nine to five, day in and day out. Think for a moment how much of your life will be spent working versus doing what makes you happy. If you are lucky enough to be passionate about what you do for money, we salute you. If you aren’t one of those people, welcome to the resistance. Consider us your kinfolk. Work, in one form or another, is a necessity of life. It’s neither inherently good or bad, it’s simply a fact of life in our current stage of human evolution. That being said, we are firm believers that work shouldn’t tyrannize your time entirely. We use the phrase, “live off the clock.” Simply put, pursue your passions despite the daily grind. Early mornings, late nights and weekend warrior-ing are all part of the equation. Don’t wait for the stars to align. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just get up and get going. It’s a sappy sentiment, but we truly believe if everyone spent a little more time doing what they love, the world would be a happier place. Likewise, a good time is often easiest found right outside your door. Don’t look beyond the adventure waiting in your own backyard. It’s human to feel wanderlust, but if you’re constantly looking for bigger and better things, you may just never be satisfied. Our hot take on society is that we live too comparatively to one another. The world is a much smaller place than it once was, and it’s easy to get caught up in what others are doing or what’s being portrayed. The social media charlatans curate feeds of false pretense. Don’t trust that poison.

We regale ourselves as three very average dudes. For example, Ryan’s actual t-shirt size is extra medium, unfortunately for him retailers don’t make that size. I say this only to express that if we can find time to pursue our avocations, you can too. Our adoration for fishing and surfing was the spark we needed to start something. As we progressed further in our professional lives we spent less time pursuing our passions, and so we became interested in capturing our outings to revisit them whenever we wanted. Cue the pawn shop cameras that helped us fall in love with photography and unlocked a collective drive to tell stories. Now, Chasing Tides is where our love for life in the Mid-Atlantic and living off the clock converge, it’s our commitment to pursuing the things we’re passionate about. This magazine is the dispatch for that sentiment. Enclosed in its pages are anecdotes about people, places, businesses, products, and antics. All of which are collected to encourage, inform, and entertain. We hope that after reading our magazine you’ll spend more time doing what you love, not for any reason other than because it makes you happy. Nick, Ryan, and Tim

We call Ryan the Newt. He speaks in cursive. Nick is our local hipster. He brings cheese when he goes fishing.

Tim has a love for weather forecasts and has more back hair than his dog.

www.turtleboxaudio.com

S T R I K E

M I S S I O N

“You’d think ponies in the snow would be big dollars for the weekend.” - Tim

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For the second weekend in a row we set course up the Eastern Shore of Virginia to indulge in a snow covered bounty at Assateague Island. We were eyeing up waves of a similar size as the weekend before, but dealing with opposite tides and much more snow in Maryland than we got in Virginia Beach. We were excited to achieve the rare novelty of trudging through calf deep snow to reach the beach. Assateague typically likes a lower tide and with a pre-dawn high tide, we hit the road at sunrise to arrive in MD by mid tide.

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The further north we drove on the Eastern Shore the scenery changed from signs of snow to full on winter wonderland. One of the big questions we had was the condition of the roads. But, them MD and VA DOT boys had the roads exceptionally clear. Coming around the bend and approaching Assateague with our excitement built and the coffee ready to exit, we are dealt a sobering blow. The sign says the park is closed. “Maybe it’s only one of them,” Tim said. “I never would have thought to see if the parks were closed.” As we approached the national park we saw orange barricades blocking that entrance. We continued to the state park and the gate was closed. With nowhere to discretely park, we stomached our loss. Looking left, we saw a single pony standing behind a tree staring at us with the expression “sucks to be you.”

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Anyone who has scored Assateague knows, if you see a pony the waves are good. It ’s a fact.

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We headed into Ocean City with our tails between our legs, knowing the tide was not good for OC, but hoping for the best. Luckily, we found a decent looking peak and were able to still achieve half our goal of a snowy walk to the beach, which cost Tim an ankle. Booties and ice don’t mix.

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Strike missions don’t always work out, but it’s easier to accept defeat when the conditions just don’t line up.

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We are looking forward to getting back into the score column soon so we can show that pony what’s up.

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Walking into Make and Ride Surf Exchange (MAR) is not like walking into a typical surf shop. The scent of surf wax is cut with the effervescent scent of resin. There isn‘t a maze of clothing racks to navigate, wall of shoes, or even hoards of bright white boards on display. There are, however, the essentials.

Front and center is a large window unveiling the shaping bay that is the heartbeat of MAR. Below that window are custom made fin keys by Angry Octopus and a thoughtfully curated collection of fins. Just to the right are longboard fins and MAR t-shirts. Catty-corner to the shaping window is a wall stocked with board bags, leashes, traction pads, wax, and more MAR apparel. Opposite of the essentials wall, is a selection of colorful, hand-shaped, and functional stock boards designed by head shaper and owner Nick Halleran.

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Depending on the time of day, you are greeted by the buzzing of the foam planer or the crusting sound of sandpaper. If Nick isn’t instructing a shaping lesson or working on a custom order; then eavesdropping on a conversation between him and a customer piecing together thoughts on a new dream board is the move. Intermittently, the ding repair and glassing apprentices, Dom Dente and Riley Fox, pass through suited up like members of Breaking Bad.

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For as long as I can remember, surfboards have been a part of my life. They’ve been the vehicle for a multitude of emotions. Ever since that first attempt at eight years old in Sea Girt, NJ, where I stood up for two seconds then fell and rag dolled for what seemed like an eternity, I was hooked.

Now fully entrenched in the 9-5 world, and surfing less due to obligations, I have to maximize the fun factor in each session. As a result, my surfboard quiver has evolved. I stopped caring about how my boards looked and performed when the waves were good. My focus shifted to boards that catch waves easily, but still have the maneuverability to throw a turn or two if my hips are loose enough.

Surfing provides me with fun, fear, frustration, and has unapologetically let me know I need to lose weight or up my board volume. Speaking of the latter, like people, surfboards come in many different shapes and sizes. Growing up during the potato chip shortboard era, I’ve seen the full gamut of shortboard designs and been sold on unsuitable products.

Finally comfortable with my surfing identity, shaping a board was still on my “to-do” list. On several occasions, I filled my online shopping cart on the various DIY board shaping kit websites, but never clicked the checkout button. I watched “howto” YouTube videos. I Googled to see if there were any shops in the area or board shapers who offered lessons, but came up short each time. Then, during one final Google search, I stumbled upon Nick and MAR.

From fifth grade through high school, I subscribed to different surf magazines and always loved reading about board designs. I loved reading about shapers and seeing how designs changed in each magazine’s periodical board roundup. Watching footage of the shaping process stimulated my senses. From the scratching of sanding foam to the buzzing of the planer, and the cliche “poof” of foam dust, shaping a board was always something I wanted to do. The truth of the matter though, is I’m not super mechanically inclined. I can handle the basics, but you’re not going to call me to build you a deck. I did, however, work for a fence company during summers in high school, so I can dig a nice post hole. Also, for the majority of my life I lived three hours from the nearest beach. As I learned more about surfboard design and my ability as a surfer progressed to respond to different features in boards, the desire to learn how to shape a board flooded my mind. Fast forward several years to my current residence in Virginia Beach, VA. By this point in my life, my transformation as a surfer has changed drastically. I am capable, but not a ripper. And for the record, I started doing a lot of yoga and can finally touch my toes.

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Nick is a husband, a father, and an articulate and welcoming individual. He is always smiling and slightly dusty. The foam dust really adds to the uniqueness of the MAR experience. Most importantly, he is an experienced board builder. He focuses on building boards to an individual’s ability and home break. Bluntly put, Nick understands how to build boards to maximize fun for what the Mid-Atlantic throws at us. He told us, “no well-known logo can replace the personal knowledge and relationship of having a board built specifically for you by someone who knows the waves you surf and who takes the time to understand your needs.”

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Photographer: Connor Cornell

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Living in a place like Virginia Beach that has a wide variety of conditions, it is nice to have a shaper who can build and help build a variety of different boards. Another unique factor about Nick is he grew up nowhere near the beach. He understands that surfers and surf shops can oftentimes be standoffish to someone who is not in the “inner” circle. Nick’s teaching approach is informative, interactive, and thought-provoking. He’d have every right to make it a more hands off approach for the sheer fact of controlling his negative Google reviews. You really do shape the entire board. He will show you how to start each section, then let you have at it and make sure nothing catastrophic happens.

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Learning something new about a piece of equipment I’ve used almost my entire life was weird. I feel like I’ve got a solid understanding of surfboards and design, but actually implementing techniques to construct certain features was a great learning experience. “Next is the concave. How do we do that?” Nick asked me while helping with my first self-shape.

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I looked back at him with a blank stare. Not because I didn’t know what the concave was or how it changed the functionality of the board, but because I physically didn’t know how to make it happen. The same happened when setting up the rocker. Learning those small nuances in the building process allows for a deeper connection to the equipment. It also allows you to understand what to change for the next seven boards you build with him.

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If learning to shape isn’t your thing, then no sweat. Nick will help shape a custom board for you. The consultation process for a custom is just as in-depth as preparing for a DIY experience. Don’t have time to shape or sit down with him for a custom board, no problemo. He has recently developed and will continue to develop the Sojourn Series by MAR. These are stock boards on the rack ready to help you maximize fun throughout the Mid-Atlantic. Nick explained, “our goal is to explore and push design progression to maximize enjoyment of our local conditions, while also honoring our own history.” The MAR community is growing and it‘s not surprising. Time spent with Nick building your own board or working with him on a custom creates a unique connection that is missed when walking into a typical surf shop. It is similar to that of being on a sports team. The relationship built is greater than a monetary transaction. Because of that it is difficult to label MAR. It is a DIY experience. It is a board manufacturer. It is also a surf shop. Most importantly, it is essential to the surf community.

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Built by the water, Along the Keel dives into the why behind top coastal brands, telling the story of how they came to be, how they impact our coastline, and where they are headed. Learn how some of the most iconic brands almost fell short and how new ones are just getting started. Tune in to listen to a new episode every week, wherever you listen to your favorite podcasts. Head to www.alongthekeel.com to learn more.

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The Atlantic Ocean

If you live in Virginia Beach, chances are you’ve seen Scott riding his bike down to the boardwalk, surfboard under the arm, bald head glistening, and a huge smile on his face. Or you may have stopped by his booth at the Neptune Festival to check out his wood burning art (pyrography) under the name Swell Luck (@swellluckdesign).

is an inspirational force. It does a great job of dismantling a person’s direction in life and often becomes an influencing factor. As people who have succumbed to the Atlantic’s bounty, we love learning how the ocean has affected others’ way of life.

No, still nothing? Maybe you’ve seen Swell Luck (Scott and buddy James) play live music at a local bar, festival, or wedding.

Cue, Scott Roberts. Describing Scott in one word is impossible. He is a Colorado native, an artist, a musician, a surfer, a husband, a father, and an insanely nice dude, just to name a few. Scott’s relationship with the ocean has shaped almost every aspect of his adult life.

If none of that sparks a vision, then have no fear. We caught up with Scott over the winter to find out more about his life, Swell Luck, the ocean’s influence on his path, and most importantly, to see how many jobs he has.

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and really wanted to play in college. With a few months left before graduation, and plans to attend Northern Arizona University, a phone call from the East Coast changed his trajectory.

Born and raised in Centennial, Colorado, Scott was no stranger to finding hobbies and all the fun activities that come with spending time outdoors. “I grew up downhill skiing when I was three,” Scott told us.

“The lacrosse coach at Virginia Wesleyan College (now University) called and asked me to come play,” he recalled. “I ditched my plans to go to Northern Arizona University and ended up in Virginia Beach.”

After learning to ski, his passions expanded to snowboarding, hiking, camping, and whitewater kayaking. Fully embedded in the Colorado lifestyle, it seemed like Scott would be a lifer.

The last minute decision to head east for college proved to be an impactful one. Scott earned his degree and had an excellent lacrosse career earning all-conference honors as a defenseman. Most importantly, the decision to go to Virginia Wesleyan led him to meet his wife, Erica.

“I often said ‘I love Colorado, I will never leave,” he exclaimed. A more structured pursuit, however, laid a different plan for Scott. He played lacrosse in high school

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Unconventional as that may have seemed to the typical surfing folks at the oceanfront, Scott’s kayak was a perfect vehicle to apply what he’d learned from the rapids to the waves. That being said, there isn’t a maneuver on the kayak like a duck dive to get under a wave during the paddle out. Scott learned the only option was over.

“Without a doubt, the greatest thing I received from my college education was meeting my wife.” He continued, “we have been together for 16 years and married for nine of them, and without Erica my creative passions would not exist.” Prior to college, Scott’s experience with the ocean was minimal.

“It was always a sprint to make sure you don’t end up at the peak of the wave as it broke, but it was bound to happen,” he said.

“I went to Florida on vacation a time or two as a kid, but had only been in the ocean like four times before I came to VB,” Scott said. Now, as they say, “you can take the man out of Colorado, but you can’t take the Colorado out of the man.” Scott showed up to the oceanfront with his whitewater kayak in tow. Trading rapids for waves, he learned to surf via his kayak.

Going over the falls in a kayak was a unique pounding he recalled. The weight of the kayak would hammer down on his upper body, while the buoyancy held him perfectly in place to receive the worst part of the beating every time. These beatings did not go in vain.

“I was aware that trying to kayak was not cool like surfing and I definitely looked like a kook,” he remembered. “But it taught me to have thicker skin and own the weirdness.”

“This definitely taught me how to stay calm in an ocean pounding and helped me become a better surfer,” Scott said.

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Surfing in the kayak allowed Scott to experience the pleasures, denials, and frustrations the Atlantic has to offer. He learned the need to take advantage of the surf when the Atlantic shows face. “Every East Coast surfer knows that swells don’t always come around, and when they do, the window where the surf gets good is usually extremely short,” said Scott. “I like to be able to drop everything I am doing and surf as much of the swell as my schedule will allow.” Surfing all of the time might be the dream for some, but being able to drop everything when the waves show up is an enviable position to hold for most. For us mortals, Scott included, finding a 9-5 job with such flexibility isn’t easy to come by. Unless, of course, there isn’t a true 9-5. As mentioned earlier, it’s impossible to describe Scott in one word, especially when it comes to monetary stability. He is a modern day renaissance man. “I don’t really have a 9-5,” proclaimed Scott. He continued, “I have about five jobs and none of them really seem like work, so I think I am doing something right.” Scott graduated from college with an art degree and put that experience to good use. Also, after graduating, Scott put away the trusty kayak and transitioned to surfing a modern shortboard. “My main job is Graphic Designer, which I have been doing for about 13 years, and freelancing for the last eight,” explained Scott. “I am also an artist, musician, lacrosse referee, oyster farmer, and stay at home dad.”

And so, Swell Luck is born. Swell Luck encompasses his creative pursuits like his wood burning (pyrography) art. His compositions are often on hand made plywood canvas with reclaimed wood frames, and sometimes painted with a colored wood stain. He constructs these canvases at his “studio,” an elegantly laid out storage unit near the oceanfront. The images on them are influenced by the ocean and nature.

Neptune Festival, Virginia Beach, VA 44.

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In college, Scott was a painter, but was not particularly thrilled by painting. He always enjoyed drawing and his father was a carpenter, so he also had experience with woodworking.

“My biggest challenge is I have the passion, but not a very good business sense. I enjoy the creative process a lot more than marketing my craft, purchasing reproductions, selling, and posting to social media.” He continued, “there is a balance that has to exist for a passion to become a business, and I am working to achieve that balance.”

“I had dabbled with a couple wood burning sets in my youth as well as in college, but in 2014 I finally started to blend wood working and pyrography together,” he explained. He continued, “it all started when I got a ukulele kit and thought I would make it more interesting with a little wood burning decoration.”

On top of trying to achieve the ultimate marriage of creative process and business sense, Scott says in the business of selling art you can’t get discouraged. He encourages anyone who is trying to make a creative business for themselves to be inspired by others.

After the ukulele came a skateboard, and the rest is history. The compositions Scott makes are truly incredible. From depicting waves, King Neptune, pelicans, whales, you name it, the level of detail and precision accomplished by burning wood is insane.

“Throughout my schooling I always excelled at art, but in every class there was always someone better than me. Instead of being discouraged by their talents, I used it to push myself to be better.”

Swell Luck is also the name of Scott’s acoustic duo with buddy James Arellano that consists of ukulele and acoustic guitar. Scott plays the ukulele and James the guitar, both share vocals. The ukulele gives a beachy vibe to the songs they cover and songs they have written. Swell Luck band plays bars, festivals, and weddings.

In addition, Scott has found that the old cliche “you reap what you sow,” is very much in play when developing a personalized business. The harder he has pressed Swell Luck in design, music, and art, the more success he has found. But, expectations have to be realistic in terms of growth and success.

“The idea [for Swell Luck] stems from being an East Coast surfer and whenever we are lucky enough to be blessed with some swell, but also a sentiment of good fortune,” explained Scott.

“The evolution of Swell Luck has been organic and slow,” he described. “It has been miniscule victories that have added up over time.”

Drawing influence from the ocean and surfing to incorporate into his art is easy. He explained, “creativity definitely flows from one to another in all of my passions, but I would say the most obvious influence is when the ocean goes flat for a while, I start depicting waves!” While it‘s easy to say that you are going to develop a business based on your hobbies and passions, getting to the point of consistently making money is full of challenges. Scott knows this first hand, and acknowledged it’s an ongoing process.

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Photos & Art courtesy of Scott Roberts

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Insane artistic ability and passion for surfing, music, and art aside, the truth of the matter is building a business such as Swell Luck does not happen alone. Scott has the backing of his wife, Erica, and eight year old daughter, Marnet.

When he isn’t working on new commissions or taking advantage of the surf to inspire a new piece, Scott loves spending his free time with Erica and Marnet hiking, biking, and camping. A common equation we all experience in life is balancing work, family, friends, and hobbies. Scott’s journey east from Colorado seemingly put him in a position to solve that equation. Much like Swell Luck’s organic growth, Scott knows achieving that balance in life is an ongoing process, but he wouldn’t change a thing.

“My wife is the only reason I am able to follow my creativity and work in an unconventional way. She is the hardest worker I know, and without her backing and encouragement, Swell Luck would not exist,” Scott adamantly explained. Scott’s daughter is also quite creative herself, and keeps him working and honest. He hopes that his journey will inspire her to one day follow her dreams.

“There must be a balance of working hard, loving the time with family, and getting in the water. Too much of anything is no good,” he exclaimed.

“My daughter is a really creative person and will sit and draw for hours, reminding me to get to work.” He added, “she is eager with a compliment or critique of my work which is surprisingly insightful.”

To Scott, time is the true value of wealth.

In addition, Marnet understands her dad’s artistic strengths and weaknesses. She encourages him to step out of his comfort zone.

The Colorado kid comes east, gets educated, finds love, ditches the kayak, and uses inspiration from the ocean to develop a passion based business. Sounds like that would’ve been hard to do in northern Arizona.

“If someone offered me a job making 6 figures, but I was confined to a schedule each week, there is no way I would take it,” he said.

“She knows I struggle depicting people and figure drawing, so she will always give me a pat on the back when I attempt them.”

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www.faroboardbags.com

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“ „ “Stay back 10 or 15 feet, and stop walking in a (cuss word) bunch. Don’t Mickey Mouse.”

Uncle Ray’s voice muffled in the wind as he barked over his shoulder. Candidly, his words came out with surprising austerity. This being the first time for all of us, except Uncle Ray, we met eyes with one another to gauge each’s interpreted level of severity. I remember being surprised by my brother-in-law’s lack of expression. I’ve never thought him vacuous, so that was either the result of the White Claws, legal Massachusetts weed, or confidence from his new found appreciation of North Woods Law.

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Uncle Ray stopped abruptly after walking out about 30 feet. He looked around, down, and then back at us. Without him having to say a word we knew to stop right where we were. Two pulls and the auger’s 4-stroke woke up the sleepy afternoon cove. The peal of the engine and wheeling ice debris eradicated most of the remaining tension. After breaking through the ice, Uncle Ray slowly removed the drill blade as water breached the freshly carved hole. “Looks about six or seven inches. Should be good, just stay spread for a little ways,” he muttered. We followed Uncle Ray, in formation, as he drilled holes in the ice every 10-15 feet until the ice was more than 12 inches thick. That was my initiation to a legitimately frozen body of water. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t freak me out. Our path from solid ground to getting on the lake was a thin strip of ice surrounded by aerated, very unfrozen water. Uncle Ray is as accomplished an outdoorsman as I know, and has spent his entire life in New England, so I never doubted his experience, but still, that shit was weird at first. The Great Meredith Rotary Ice Fishing Derby, in its 43rd year, brought us up to Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire. My wife’s Uncle Ray has been fishing the Derby for 30 years, and this past February we made the trip with her family to join him. The rules allow you to drill holes and even set your Cusk traps on Friday evening before the official start of the event Saturday. Those first steps on the ice were intended to do so.

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My fishing career began at age three on Nomini Creek, a small vein of the Potomac in Virginia’s Northern Neck. I’d fished 30 plus years before ever dropping a line by hand through over a foot of ice. I was excited for the opportunity, humbled by inexperience, but eager to learn a new skill. We passed the auger around and each of us tried our hand with the machine. Uncle Ray looked at us, as only he can, insinuating we were a bunch of limp dick amateurs as we finished a section of holes precisely too close to each other. We proceeded to drill about 20 holes throughout the small cove my in-laws’ new plumber had gifted us to fish for the derby. It was my first time ripping an auger through ice - which I 10 out of 10 recommend to anyone who likes gasoline and power tools.

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My alarm was set, but I was already awake, courtesy of Ray’s kitchen shuffle. He was preparing a carafe of New England’s finest jet fuel, and pacing anxiously in doubt that the rest of us would pour out of bed to be ready in time. I typically don’t sleep much the night before a fishing outing, so I was ready to go. My wife’s stepfather was also ready and waiting. Eric, another member of my wife’s extended family, soon matriculated. The four of us drank a bit of coffee, quietly, and waited for about 10 minutes. During that time, we called my brother-in-law and his pseudo stepson. Neither emerged. Finally, I went upstairs and gently knocked on the door to the room the two of them were sleeping in. To my surprise, stirring was afoot. Ten minutes later the five of us piled into two trucks and traversed the icy back roads that snake the lake’s exterior. The sun was still below the treeline as we unloaded our gear and piled it into two children’s sleds to tow it onto the ice.

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Lake Winnipesaukee, NH

Forced to follow Uncle Ray’s lead again because he was the only one smart enough to remember a headlamp, we rode his coattails like a brood of ducklings onto the ice as the dim glow of frozen first light disclosed the holes we drilled the day before. We dragged our gear on the ice, popped up our blue tent Bobhouse, and went to work on the holes. Step 1: Clean the hole. The importance of a good, clean, clear hole, can’t be understated. Cleaning the hole entails scooping any ice shavings that remain floating in the water. Ice shavings can break the line if it gets caught, especially if you’ve got a fish on and running. You also don’t want any interference when you start pulling your fish in. Step 2: Set your tip-ups. Ice fishing traps are awesome. They can be complicated and jazzy looking - but my favorite is the simple three-bar wooden tip-up. The setup is simple, Uncle Ray swears by Berkley PowerBait - apparently controversial for ice fishing - but I didn’t question it. Each participant is allowed two holes during the derby, so I balled some PowerBait on my first hook and slowly guided the split shotanchored line down about 15 feet to the bottom. Step 3: Wait…usually…

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As I began setting my second trap, the whiplike snap of my first tip-up’s flag rang out as we looked in disbelief.

The dark gray head turned dark green, and the metallic silver was replaced by a rose iridescence that all but took my breath away. Rainbow Trout. Big one. We saw it at exactly the same time, and just as we did, it took off again. Knowing now what we had on the line, shit got real (reel?). “Don’t horse ‘em, don’t horse ‘em!” Uncle Ray reiterated with the most controlled panic I’ve ever seen in a man’s eyes.

I immediately dropped everything and sprinted to the first trap. The wind will routinely trigger a flag, so we weren’t positive it was a fish. Until we were positive it was a fish. I lifted the tip-up from the hole only to witness the spool racing with what Uncle Ray’s eyes indicated was a big fish. I took hold of the line as Uncle Ray instructed me to let him run, which I obliged, and when the run stopped I slowly began handlining the fish in.

Slowly, carefully, one hand after the other, I dragged the fish back to the hole. He was tired now as he came back into sight, and as he relented, I was able to get his head positioned upward in the opening and pulled gently up. Uncle Ray reached in with catlike precision, plucked him out of the water and tossed him a healthy seven feet away from the opening in the ice.

I was freaking out. First, my hands were frozen. Second, I’d never fully handlined a fish in without a rod, and this was on 6lb test. The fish took off again, “Let him run. Don’t horse him!” Uncle Ray’s focus intensified signaling this had gotten serious. After the second long run the fish relented long enough for me to slowly drag him to the opening in the ice. Immediately, Uncle Ray and I felt a devastating tremor of disappointment as we saw what appeared to be a dark gray head and metallic silver cheek. It was a Landlocked Salmon, we were sure of it. Landlocked Salmon aren’t in season during the derby and are off limits. And then it rolled.

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The sun wasn’t visible yet, and there on the still quiet ice we had what we thought was a money winning Rainbow Trout. Hugs, high fives, all the things that fish make grown men do ensued. “I’ve fished this tournament for 30 years and never caught a fish like that,” Ray said contently.

That was the only fish caught that weekend. Ultimately, we just missed the leader board. The fish weighed in at 4.4lbs at the derby headquarters where we saw the victors on display. Comparatively, not the biggest Rainbow out there, but certainly the biggest I’ve ever caught, and quite possibly ever will. But that fish will be one of my favorite catches forever. Landing that fish in that environment, in that way, under the proud guidance of Uncle Ray - is a memory I’ll enjoy for the rest of my life.

My hands were still shaking, and my adrenaline was absolutely pumping. So the airplane bottle of Fireball Eric handed me was perfectly timed. It was 6:27am. We quickly set the rest of the traps, each of us with a twitch of hunger pang in our eyes. Step 3. Wait. Then, we waited. Step 4. Drink. Ice fishing consists of little fishing and much drinking. By 9:30am I’d consumed a volume of booze that would have greatly disappointed my mother. Probably even my father. By 11am the entire family made it out. We fired up the grill, turned up the music, and enjoyed an incredibly unique atmosphere created by the ice. The lake was wide awake at this point, and in every direction was another party, another gathering of family and friends.

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Unsure of exactly what to expect, I scribbled down a list of eager questions on the plane ride up. For the most part I wanted to be sure I soaked it all in to expand my fishing repertoire. I realized after the fact that ice fishing, like every piscatorial pursuit, is about the time spent as much as it is about the fish. Bringing the family together like that would never happen here at home, it’s just not possible. Spending time with Uncle Ray, in his natural habitat, and learning those skills directly from him is invaluable to me. Besides, when it’s the middle of winter and freezing in New Hampshire, as he put it best, “What the hell else you gonna do?”

An accurate representation of Nick‘s crappy drawing and notes.

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I have hobbies. My wife would tell you I have too many. Recently, after a quick visual audit of all the items that dwell in our two-car garage, she said to me, “you have a lot of shit.” She’s correct, I do have things. Some of which serve more purpose than others. I’m trying to be better, but I admit I’m something of a serial dilettante. So, I’ve made it a personal goal to evaluate my gear, and henceforth favor function over fancy. The process of doing so feels very dad-ish, but that vibe is what I’m on these days.

O’pros 3rd Hand Rod Holder. This thing is Wisconsin’s gift to the world. If you don’t fish in a boat 100% of the time, then you have a use for the O’Pros Rod Holder. Ever had a propped up rod fall and scuff your reel while you were changing flies or dunk your spinning reel while changing lures? I have. Ever hook yourself as a result of that exact thing happening? I have. Maybe you’re not like me, but if you are, check this product out. The time it saves in switching flies alone while on the water is worth the minimal investment.

I’m probably not introducing you to anything new with the Yeti Sidekick, but this modern marvel has all but turned into an EDC for me. My Sidekick has been the vehicle for an assortment of things, ranging from baby wipes to dry flies. Admittedly, the latter has become my favorite application. For the past year I’ve used the Sidekick as my waist pack when fishing. I simply thread a wading belt through the back straps and voila, I have a lightweight, durable, waterproof pack to house all the flies I’ll eventually blame for not catching any fish.

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Xcel Drylock 7MM Mittens. Let’s be honest. If you want to surf in the Mid-Atlantic with any sort of consistency, then you better get comfortable surfing in cold weather. Let’s also be honest about the fact that surfing in the coldest months of the year makes you, well, cold. Don’t listen to anyone that says otherwise. Sure, you get used to the shock of an ice cream headache, but no amount of neoprene prevents you from being cold. You can, however, delay the numbness. Some may call it overkill or unnecessary, but when your goal is to surf, finding products that help aid in prolonging a session are key. The Xcel Drylock 7MM Mittens are the key to surfing longer in the winter. They are incredibly comfortable and allow you a surprising amount of dexterity. Most importantly, they are insanely warm. When the rest of my body is starting to fail me and go numb, my hands are having a freaking party in those mittens. Plus, I think the extra surface area aids in paddling. You don’t have to trust the science behind that, but I’m making that claim. I surfed multiple days this winter with air temps in the high 20’s and water temps in the high 30’s. My hands never got cold. Don’t let neoprene millimeter shamers get in the way of your longer and more comfortable winter sessions. Get some mittens.

The Cotton Camera Carrier serves one massive purpose, keeping my camera safely at the ready - no hands needed, which was precisely the problem I was trying to solve when I was introduced to the Cotton CCS G3 Strapshot. I wanted a harness specifically for hiking and wade fishing. The Strapshot checks those boxes. It’s easy to use, affordable, and quality built. If you need a simple solution for securing your camera while hiking rough terrain or standing waist deep in water, give it a shot (pun intended).

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At Chasing Tides, we love surfing, we love fishing, and we love stories about people getting out there pursuing their passions. We also love beer and food. In particular, food you can cook on a grill. One of our favorite food items for the grill are chicken wings. Juicy, saucy, and of course crispy chicken wings. Below is my chicken wing journey and a recipe for how I currently serve them wings up.

The impact those first wings had on my tastebuds has been unmatched by almost anything else I’ve sunken my teeth into. So much so, that as I got older and learned to cook, I was constantly trying to make and perfect my own buffalo wings. I’ve made hundreds of attempts baking them, frying them, and grilling them, and sometimes a combination of methods in one preparation.

As you grow, you have experiences that ultimately change the trajectory of your path in life. For example, riding a wave for the first time changed my life forever. Heck, fighting my first striped bass when I was six years old has kept me chasing that feeling my entire life. But, one not as well documented experience that has impacted my life was the first time I tried a buffalo wing. I’ll never forget when I laid my hands on that crispy, saucy, and tangy little morsel at Tully’s in Baltimore, MD circa 1998.

Here‘s a fun lesson that I learned early on in my cooking life; oil doesn’t bubble until food is dropped into it. Ol pubescent Tim, while pulling the lid off a pan full of oil to see if it had started “bubbling” yet, found out oil does not bubble on its own and oxygen mixed with hot oil means fire. The heat I felt on my face matched with the sound of my mother’s scream as the flame just about reached the ceiling are two things I’ll never forget on my journey to wing mastery. Also, oil is scary.

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Use baking soda for grease fires. Since that almost disastrous day, I have come across and modified a few different go-to ways to cook wings. Currently, I am obsessed with using my Traeger wood pellet grill. The flavor these grills infuse into the wings is next level. Being able to smoke the wings on a low heat first and then crank up the heat to take the wings to their crispy promise land is a one-two punch every wing eater should try. The result is a flavorful, crispy, fall off the bone chicken wing. For the recipe listed below, I love using Traeger’s BBQ Hickory pellets to infuse some extra flavor. Now that we have covered structural integrity, let‘s talk sauce. The sauce is the gatekeeper to the smoky and crispy funhouse that awaits you in every bite. Sauces can be spicy, sweet, tangy, smoky, or a mixture of all of them, and trust me, I’ve tried. I’ve come to the determination that not one sauce is the best, so I started mixing my two favorites together; BBQ and Hot Sauce. Add a little honey to the mix and you’ve got a delicious sauce that will caramelize nicely on a grill.

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*Disclaimer, not a measurement guy. Use your eyeballs and WING IT. Get it?*

Pellets:

Traeger Hickory Wood Pellets

Ingredients:

24 Chicken Wings 3 Second Pour of BBQ Sauce (We used Stubbs Sweet Heat) 3 Squirts of Honey 2 Second Pour of Hot Sauce (We used Frank’s Red Hot Buffalo Sauce) 5 Taps of Old Bay 8 Taps of Frank’s Red Hot Buffalo Ranch Seasoning

Directions: 1. If you’ve bought whole wings, then cut off the tips and cut into wing and drumstick portions. Or don’t, and cook them things whole. 2. Toss with Frank’s Red Hot Buffalo Ranch seasoning. I’m not a scientist and it may not be difficult, but the fact they put two of the best flavors ever into seasoning form deserves a Nobel Peace Prize. 3. Preheat Traeger to 225F. Let the grill stabilize at that temperature for 15 minutes or so before putting wings on. 4. Place wings on grill grates and let smoke for 30 minutes. 5. While the wings are smoking, mix the BBQ, Hot Sauce, Old Bay, and Honey into a delicious “buffaque” sauce. Mix sauce to suit your taste. i.e. more BBQ if you like that or more hot sauce if you want the heat. 6. Once wings have smoked, crank the grill temperature up to 400F and let the wings cook for another 15 minutes. 7. At this point, the wings should be approaching that golden crispy goodness look. Take them off the grill and put them in a shakable container and add your sauce. Shake well, but not too well that you have some of the meat fall off your wings. Place back onto the grill for another 5-8 minutes, depending on how crispy you like them. 8. The wings are done when they’ve got that caramelized, yet saucy look to them. Trust me, you’ll know. 9. Serve with ranch or blue cheese and, of course, a special beer.

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