Lightweight tent: Nemo Obi Elite 1P, reviewed by Kevin Kelly on Cool Tools, this is an ultra-light, elegantly designed, one-person tent. I think it’s a breakthrough design.

Lightweight rain gear: 02 Hooded Rain jacket. Another item I discovered as a result of a recent backpack trip (with outdated gear), also on Cool Tools (here). V. light, waterproof, highly compressible, cheap. I got pants as well.

Sanuk Sidewalk Surfers – “Vagabond” They don’t look like much, but these are the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever had. A few months ago my son Will and I were visiting old surfing friend Richard Novak and longboard maestro Wingnut at Rich’s office in Santa Cruz, and all four of us had on the same shoes.

iPhone 5: OMG! Just incredible. Seri alone (which people seem to bitch about): I can say “nearest gas station,” or “nearest pizza,” and lo and behold, there are lists in order of proximity. Camera functions are fabulous: clear videos, panoramic mode. Haven’t even begun to explore possibilities, which seem endless. I want to get more up to speed on a smart phone, because that’s the way the (young) world is going, and important for me to understand as a communicator. Also thinking about shooting photos on phone and blogging on the spot. I’ll be such a modern guy.

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Yesterday was one of the most extraordinary days of my life. I had agreed (after some reluctance) to give a talk at the funeral of my college buddy Richard Zanuck in front of 500 mostly Hollywood people in a Beverly Hills Episcopalian church. I got there early and got a program. There were a total of 5 speakers and they were, in this order:

Dean Zanuck

Tim Burton

Sherry Lansing

Clint Eastwood

Lloyd Kahn

Holy shit! I started to hyperventilate. Vision immediately popped into my mind of a singer going to his gig and upon arrival learning that Otis Redding is the opening act.

Well, a fuck of a lot happened yesterday, every bit of it good. In a nutshell: the family told me to tell the real stories, and I let it rip. True tales of 2 punk pranksters in the ’50s pedal-to-medal in pursuit of pure fun. Trips to Baja and Mexico, surfing, our exploding car at Malibu Colony, fights, practical jokes of fiendish intensity, the pure F-U-N of it all. Once I started with the stories, they were with me. Channeling fer shure.  They loved hearing about this side of him. This was a much-loved guy. It was a sweet spot in time.

More later. I’ve got to digest it all. What a day!

I am so loving Southern California.

*Title of George Greenough in-the-curl surf film

I was home from Canada for a day, then got up at 3 to catch a 6AM flight to Chicago. I’m doing presentations at the North House Folk School in Grand Marais, Minnesota, on the banks of Lake Superior this coming weekend. It’s an institution I’ve always admired. (Check out their classes.)

   I had to catch a flight from O’Hair to Duluth and we landed late, so I ran with luggage about a mile and got to the gate just as it was closing, last one on plane, phew! A friend from a past life (in Baja), Peter Kohlsaat, lives in Milwaukee and has a cabin in Duluth, and I was invited to dinner. I ended up staying at the Fitger Hotel and Brewery, which is in an ancient stone building on the lake; the brewery dates back to the 1850s. For an extra $10, I got a room looking bout at the expanse of Lake Superior. I had an hour to kill before going to Peter’s, so got a Hempen Ale (among the ingredients are hemp seeds) at the bar. A guy down the bar said “Are you Lloyd?” I mean here in the middle of Minnesota. Turns out he is Peter’s fishing partner, and we had met in Baja in years past.

   People are really friendly here. It’s a relief to get away from the Calif/NY coasts, to get a different perspective. There’s an America out here that I still love, in spite of — well, you know…

   Had a great dinner, including a killer Key Lime pie, with Peter and Cindy. Who, it turns out, have a house filled with vinyl records, and we had a lively conversation, with music playing, of music and musicians we all loved. Including Duluth’s own Bobby Zimmerman and, factoid of the day: I took Minnesota Highwy 61 to get to Peter and Cindy’s…

  I’m looking out the hotel window at this vast (and clean, I’m told) lake, getting ready to go shoot some photos in Duluth. I saw some beautiful buildings yesterday, stonework like you don’t see out west…

I was born in San Francisco. One day after a high school swim meet at Fleishacker Pool (out at Ocean Beach)  a guy named Jim Fisher* got me to swim out into the surf with him. I was stunned. The blue (cold) water, the waves, it was sunny afternoon, it was paradise. That clinched my attachment to this powerful body of water. I’m so in love with the Pacific Ocean.

I’ve travelled the coast from Vancouver Island down to the tip of Baja California, and found a similar spirit, brothers and sisters of the beach (you know who you are) everywhere along this coastal waterway. We share a lot. There’s a theory that the coast was settled by Indians in canoes. Could be. After all, the First Nations people speared whales from canoes made out of hollowed-out cedar trees.

*A powerful swimmer, Jim went to Hawaii in the ’50s and rode some of the biggest waves ever at Makaha.

My good friend from Baja, Chilon, told me that Mexican slang for the grandpa of a boy, is “Abuelito de Batman.” Well, all right!

Here’s me a few hours ago with Batman. I’m awed by babies. The perfect little hands with grasping fingers, the smooth skin, the smiles, and the deep look into your eyes that infants practice before they learn not too. I love the feeling of thus little guy on my shoulder. I took him out to watch the chickens. I watched his eyes as he scanned the scene. Seeing things for the first time. He’s 4 months old.