THE LAB WITH MIKE BLACK by SLIDE MAGAZINE

THE LAB WITH MIKE BLACK

Story and Photos by Justin Coffey

What drives a man? You might ask Mike Black. He seems to be fueled by fire, or perhaps Pliny the Elder. He's someone I hold in high regard, set atop some kind of surfing-meets-science pedestal floating above a slow, peeling, righthand pointbreak – pig perfect. He's a math teacher, a father, and a friend. He surfs pigs, shoots long rifles, enjoys an IPA, and is an integral part of the progression of my surfing. To tell you the entire tale would take too long and, honestly, it'd be best told above a beer. That said, I think it's important to shed some light on “The Lab.”

Nestled in a white picket fence, yoga mom type neighborhood, The Lab takes up two-thirds of what was once a two-car garage – the other third occupied by an assortment of princess paraphernalia and a 15’-by-8’ chalkboard where Mike does math… and doodles. Four pig-shaped surfboards are perched on the wall to the left as you enter; three other boards occupy the space above a small desk on the opposite wall. 

Oil paintings and other interesting art, as well as words of wisdom and an eclectic mix of things, both known and unknown, are scattered around the room. An octopus light sits on the desk, one eye covered by a beer cap. Pictures of pigs and people surfing pigs hang in the free spaces between boards, while a meteorite that Mike found as a kid hangs from the garage door opening device. Eclectic is an understatement.

We downed a tall brown bottle of Ballast Point and then plotted our search for Pliny the Elder, a much sought after IPA. Tom, Mike’s old mate, came through the back door with wonderful news: the pretentious pizza place down the street (no idea the name) had Pliny on tap, for a limited time. Onward!

One dog, one daughter, and four dudes, most eager for an IPA, and maybe some tiny corndogs. We ate kumquats from a tall tree in the parking lot before taking the first table within our reach. An odd bunch, undoubtedly. Mike’s daughter took “photos” with her toy ATM while Tom ordered a round (which, unfortunately, our hostess dropped in a mighty mess). One round turned to three and conversation bounced. By the time we paid for our Pliny, all three of us were feeling the effect. We wandered back to the The Lab, eating more foraged fruit and chatting about the power of Pliny.

Here’s where things got good...

There was this game – I can’t remember the name – it involved a metal loop attached to some string that hung from the ceiling, as well as a hook in the tool closet across the room and a long sheet of paper upon which Mike had written the rules. Something about a pirate, or a man who’d lost three fingers? I can’t be certain. We swung the metal circle. “MISSFIRE!” must be shouted before the pendulum swings past half. Ten tries, with an abacus at either end to keep track of how many times you’ve looped the hook, or whatever.

Tom cooked chicken. We stuffed our faces and licked our fingers. Then we sat in a circle and consumed a custom Rice Krispie, after which we all lost our minds. Or so it seemed. Shortly thereafter, Mike took down a well-read copy of Natural History written by our famous beer brother, Gaius Plinius Secundus (see: Pliny the Elder). Mike read from within – ideas, inspiration, the seemingly obvious, something about suicide – and then, after a few hours and perhaps additional IPAs, the part which Mike felt was most important: “God is man helping men. This is the way to everything glory.”

Sliding of the swine…

The next morning the sound of big white knuckles knocking on a window awoke me. I peeled my face from my pillow and peered out the side window of the van, which faced west toward the water. It was dark. Not even the slightest sign of sun. Chris was standing outside the van. “You awake?” he hollered. “Kinda sorta,” I said from inside my sleeping bag. “Gimme a few minutes and I’ll be good to go.” We had made arrangements to meet Mike at the Carl’s Jr., near the trail to Trestles, at 5am. As I may have mentioned, Mike is a math teacher, and this was a weekday… maybe a Monday? So we had but a small slice of time to shoot something before Mr. Black had to teach trigonometry. I slipped into a pair of pants, pulled on a wool sweater, a brimmed hat, flip-flops, and climbed out of the van. We loaded the truck with camera equipment and headed toward the hamburger stand. 

You’d think that a midweek morning would be kinda quiet, maybe 10 or 12 people. Wrong. This is Southern California, kid. Everyone is waiting for waves. Eager and up early. We parked behind a line of cars and unpacked. Mike drove past in his Midnight Creeper cargo van, parked, and pulled out his pig. We hiked the trail together, talking about his board the entire time. A blue panel pig with no name. A real mystery. Matt Calvani and Jim Phillips both ran their hands along the rails and couldn’t come up with anything. When we walked beneath the train trestle and over a sand dune to see the surf, we were greeted by windswept waves that stood up, fluttered, and fell – rolling right with a great deal of gumption. It was glorious. We filmed and photographed while Mike mined some stoke. A damn fine way to spend a weekday. 

About Mike: Mike Black is creator of Invasion! From Planet C, the first (and only) sci-fi surf movie, as well as Jazz the Glass. Mike is also the curator of Surf-A-Pig, a blog dedicated to swine shaped surfboards. He is also a contributing writer for SLIDE Magazine. His 4th Annual Pig Luau will take place in between trails five and six on the San Onofre Bluffs, from June 27th through June 29th. There’ll be a pretty big pig (served midday on the 28th), lots of logs, and plenty of interesting people. So if you’re in the area, sneak down to San-O and join us for a few days of swine, surf, and shenanigans.

  

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