25th Oct 2017 - Escape
NO HAY FALLA - Revisited but not Rizcycled
Part of this post was originally published in January 2015.
In late 2014 our friend Grant returned from a two-month trip to Nicaragua and shared his short story No Hay Falla with us. Nearly three years later, his shorts have found their way back to Sunny Cove Studios. Grant dropped them back, but not for Rizcycling – there’s still plenty of life left in this pair of Burgh’s – instead to show us what more than two months of hard daily wear in and out of the sea will do to a pair of boardshorts. Grant’s mini-Morris Burgh shorts are salt-caked and the fabric is deeply impregnated with surf wax from Grant paddling and sitting on his surfboard under the tropical sun; they practically stand up on their own, but that’s nothing that a wash won’t sort out, and then they’ll be almost as good as new. We hope and believe that our Rizcycling scheme won’t hit its stride for a good few years yet, because that will be a sign that we have indeed designed truly durable swim shorts. Until then, we love seeing well-worn shorts like Grant’s and are looking forward to seeing just how long it takes before they finally come back for Rizcycling.
For now, enjoy No Hay Falla again and transport yourself to that beach in Nicaragua for a few minutes:
Long Pacific afternoons soon melt away the restlessness of winter city routines. Escape is about breaking loose, and Nicaragua requires few formalities. No shirt. No shoes. No hay falla. Life becomes simple: Board. Shorts. Away you go. Offshore winds blow daylong, rendering the waves well combed and wispy. Beyond that, certainties are few and far between: Peaks swing with the tide; Sandbars swiftly shift, and swells come and go. More forceful days bring wedging barrels, capable of turning both time and the slow-footed surfer on their head. Early mornings bring volcano shaped shadows and fishermen launching their pangas in hope of a modest catch. Dusk brings pink-washed skies, wide-wing silhouettes of pouch-billed pelicans and cows that congregate mysteriously on the beach. Waves become shadows as the sun sinks. But still, the water holds its warmth. Soon follows the barefoot hike home, assisted by the flickering fireflies by the road-side.