Showing posts with label wet suit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wet suit. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Take Care of Your Wetsuit: A how-to for wetsuit maintenance, because rinsing alone just isn't enough (Via surfermag.com)


Photo: Burkard
Taking care of your neoprene should always be a priority, 
especially if you somehow find yourself in Iceland. Photo: Burkard

By Justin Housman posted on November 21, 2013

Taking care of your neoprene should always be a priority, especially if you somehow find yourself in Iceland. Photo: Burkard

Wetsuits are so cool. We get to put on a superhero costume every time we paddle out at coldwater spots. Yes, surfing in boardshorts is undeniably better, but breaking in a new pair of boardies is nowhere near as satisfying as pulling on some soft, fresh rubber. At $400 a pop or more, good wetsuits are annoyingly expensive but worth every cent. Keep that new suit new for as long as possible by sacrificing a few minutes of your post-surf burrito time for some crucial wetsuit care. Proper, meticulous, obsessively over-the-top maintenance will not only prolong the useful life of your suit, it keeps it looking and feeling fresh a whole lot longer. Here’s a must-do list:

1) A thorough freshwater rinse. If you do nothing else, rinse your suit inside and out each and every time you use it, even if you’re planning a second session. Salt will destroy your suit faster than everything but direct sunlight. Save time by dousing yourself with a big jug of warm water after you get out of the water, but before you take your suit off, then when you get home rinse out the inside. Take the time to do this, every single time. Seriously.

2) Hang up your wetsuit properly. Not in the sun. Not draped over your car’s side mirror. Not slung over your balcony. And definitely not by the neck or shoulders; this will quickly stretch everything out. Take a plastic hanger, slide the top or bottom of the suit through, and hang it doubled-up, inside-out in the shower or the garage. Or somewhere in the shade if you absolutely must hang it outside.

3) Turn the suit inside out each day until it’s dry. So you’ve rinsed your suit out and hung it up inside-out like a responsible adult. Great. But if you don’t surf for a couple days, only the side of your suit facing outward will dry, leaving the other half marinating in a rubber-destroying moisture farm. Once the outward part of your suit is dry, flip it inside out again to dry the other side. This is a commonly overlooked routine that will greatly lengthen the life of your suit.

4) Use some wetsuit shampoo occasionally. No matter how thoroughly you rinse your suit, you’re going to miss some spots, letting salt collect in crevices where it will happily erode the warm, flexible, but infuriatingly fragile space-age neoprene that we spend all that money on. Fill up your wetsuit changing bucket with cool water and a few capfuls of whatever wetsuit cleaner you like, get it nice and sudsy, drop in your suit, then get your hands in there and knead the cleaner into the neoprene. Pay attention to the zipper too, you’ll want to keep that nice and clean and free of corrosion.

5) Banish the stink. Coffee before dawn patrol is mandatory. So is the automatic peeing that comes from downing all that caffeine. And coffee pee isn’t helping your suit smell any better at all. You can buy products like Mirazyme, specially made to flatten odors from bacteria and mildew in wetsuits, and add that to your wetusit shampoo regimen. Or you can use a little bit of Listerene instead. Works great.

6) Slow down when taking your suit off. Diagonal chest-zip suits are a godsend when it comes to sealing out water and improving comfort. But they are hell to take off. Trying to quicken the process by grabbing at any piece of rubber you can and ripping it from your body like an animal isn’t doing the neoprene any favors. Try not to use your thumbs when you’re pulling the top of the suit off. Don’t stand on one leg of your suit while trying to yank your foot out of the other. Especially not while grinding the suit into oily asphalt. Take it slow, apply pressure across a broad area when slinking out of the suit, and keep those seams happy.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

A Real Christmas Story…..


I stopped surfing in August of 1990 because summer was over and the water was just too cold for me. I was already looking forward to Christmas in hopes that I might get a new body glove wetsuit to keep me warm. I just had to get thru the next few months of school. It was nice to see my friends again when school started up. I didn’t notice but my friends all noticed that my voice had changed sometime over the summer. I guess surfing changes a person. I’m not sure why but the seventh grade was tough and I got in a lot of fights. I didn’t start them, I just finished them by pinning my opponent down on the ground in a headlock until a teacher or watch guard came over to break up the fight. At home I would fight with my moody older sister over who got to pick what to watch on TV. For some reason I still looked up to her and not just because she was taller than me at the time. 

Sometime that November my sister and her friends decided it was a good idea to clean up the garage so it could become a hangout area. I think the initial idea was a good one. I helped stack the forgotten boxes from our move from Hawthorne and the older boxes from our other move from Oklahoma to California. The dusty garage started looking a little brighter even though the garage door was still closed.  Around the time it started looking pretty cleaned up a friend of my sister asked if they could tag it. I asked them what they meant by tagging and they said that it meant you get to write your name on the wall. I didn’t see why anyone would want to do that, but figured I’d better keep my mouth shut because I was out numbered and I didn’t want to sound like a stupid kid. I’m not sure where the spray paint cans came from but somehow they appeared and people were writing their nicknames on the walls. I didn’t have a cool nickname like all of them so I drew a red happy face instead. 

It was starting to get a bit stuffy with all the paint fumes and of course that was when my mom pulled into the driveway after her busy day at work. We all heard the car come to a stop and then just a few seconds later mom was struggling with the sticky lock on the garage door. I suddenly felt like maybe mom wasn’t going to like the tagging and we were going to get really busted. The garage door opened and the shock on my mom’s face was enough to make us all aware that we were in deep. After my mom had ripped into us about how disappointed she was my sister and I were banished to our rooms. My room was nothing special just the basics; bed, dresser, desk, small cassette tape AM/FM radio, a few books, no TV, no computer or gaming system. Most of my stuff I was sure was going to be auction off or donated to some more worthy kid as part of my punishment. My sister and I ended up doing some community service on top of being grounded. We had to clean up the parking lots on the Redondo Union High School campus, everything down the gum stuck on ground had to be scraped up and cleaned. It was embarrassingly hard work. I had almost forgotten about surfing altogether. I felt more like a prisoner of a chain gang in one of those old black and white movies that used to play on AMC (American Movie Classics) late at night.



It was already mid-December and Christmas was just around the corner. I was still hopeful that Santa would cut me some slack and not put me on the naughty list. My sister and I were notorious at Christmas time for taking things around the house and wrapping them up to be returned as gifts like spatulas from the kitchen, silverware, VHS movies recorded off the TV. It always helped make it look like there were a bunch of presents under the tree. Christmas Eve came and our bushy tree had a hand full of gifts that were put there by my sister and me. It seemed a little empty but I was sure Santa would help fill the voids with goodies. 

It’s always hard to sleep on Christmas eve, even when you’re a kid. Our general house rule on Christmas morning was to not disturb mom any sooner than 7:00 am. My sister and I awoke almost in unison 6:30 am and made our way quietly from our rooms to the living room to get our first glance at Christmas morning. Something was wrong, very wrong. It looked just the same as it did the night before, nothing changed that we could notice. We stared at each other in total shock. We slowly made our way to the other side of the room where our Christmas stockings hung on the wall. Coal, not the fake stuff, but the real deal was in our stockings. I guess we made the naughty list after all. My sister started crying.



We knew it wasn’t 7:00 am yet but this was an emergency, we had to tell mom. We knocked at mom’s door and she allowed us to enter. My sister tried to get the words out between sobs that Santa came by and left us coal and that there must be something that she could do to help save Christmas. My mom said that if we went back to bed until 10:00 am and if she didn’t hear any sounds from either of us then she would call Santa and see if he had any presents left that he would be willing to give us. It was the longest three and half hours of my life (up to that point). Somehow I managed not to go crazy in the silence. I watched the clock click forward one second at a time slowly making its way around again and again. From time to time I thought the clock started running backwards but there was nothing I could do to speed it up. 

At 10:00 am I still didn’t move just in case my clock was faster than whatever time my mom was using. At 10:04 am a knock of hope sounded at my door. I emerged from my exile and made my way back to the living room with my sister and her puffy red eyes. This time there was a few more gifts under the tree but nothing big, nothing like the years past, but we were grateful to get anything at that point. We opened the few gifts together and when all the gifts under the tree had been open we thought we were done. There were two green cards in the Christmas tree and it was easy to overlook them. One had my name on it and the other had my sister’s name. 

We asked mom if we could open them and she said ok. Mine said that I needed to tell my mom ten reasons why I thought she is great and then the next clue would be given to me. I was confused but I had nothing to lose so I raddled off ten things about my wonderful caring mom that loves me so much and how lucky I was to have such a great parent. Then the next clue was given and I had to do some chores around the house to get the next clue. Then a back rub for mom, after what seemed like an hour of running around my sister and I ended up in front of the garage. Even with the garage door shut it still showed signs of our painting fiasco that had dripped thru the wood slats in places and dried on the outside. I had no idea what to expect. My sister pulled the garage door open. We couldn’t believe our eyes. On the left side was a futon bed for my sister and she danced around screaming in happiness. On the right side was my gift, a ten speed mountain bike with a surfboard rack with a surfboard on it. It was my first real short board, a 6’ 4” make by Don Kadowaki.


My friends and I called it "the Donk" and it was awesome. I was so happy that I almost forgot that I really needed a wetsuit. We made the trip out to Manhattan Beach to meet up with the rest of the family and scored yet again. My grandparents got me a brand new body glove wetsuit and some bubble gum surf wax. It had turned into the perfect Christmas day after all.







CONTACT:  DON KADOWAKI