Forget the horror of the modern surf camp and forge a much sexier direction.
Just let me clear one thing up. I ain't one for surf camps. I ain't one for loitering around a pool table in some straw shanty in Indonesia surrounded by men with sunburnt faces and shoulders protruding from singlets and with trunks puddling around their knees, a beer in my hook, talking about fin set-ups and the comparative diff tween FCS and Futures, upcoming swells, best days ever and who owned the session at that particular wave at that particular day.
It troubles me oh so much that men will pour their money and yearly vacation into an event where they orbit other men of a similar kink.
But despite my grave doubts about the surf camp, the idea of camping thrills. DIY is just so… authentic! So right there in the middle of the prevailing wind of fashion. So, right there, in the zeitgeist.
So how does the modern male surf glamp? He buys a van like Kolohe Andino. He fits it out with a vast bed chamber. He heads north, very north, his protuberances piercing the southern Californian bubble.
Kolohe says: "I’m just a kid that takes pretty much every thing I do very seriously and to the extreme. I love surfing. I surf a lot. That’s about it. People often say to me, 'I never see you not surfing, eating or taking naps.' Well, I love naps. I go camping by myself in a van in the cold. Take photos. Surf different waves than Lowers. Wear a hood, booties and gloves."
Let's hear more! "I’m over steeze. I have recently gone function over fashion. I want to grow up and be a man. Not a woman. I want to surf and get barreled."