Surfing, Skateboarding, Music, Photography, Travel, Culture and general antics of the youth on the run.

Well, you’re hired We reached out to you and you delivered. Now it’s time to go

what youth harry bryant surf trip

Holy shit, it worked! 

The idea hatched over a pitcher of margaritas the other night is a reality. And it’s all because of you. You have officially funded the What Youth California ramp hunt and now the boys are ready to send it. We’re starting tomorrow and making it official: The What Youth film project, produced by you, is officially under way. We’ll wake up, jump in a van and go. The rest is up to the road. And the waves (which there are a plentiful amount of). And we’ll document the whole thing.

This morning I walked into the What Youth HQ and Harry Bryant was already here skating the ramp. Jetlagged and fresh from his last-minute 14 hour jaunt from Sydney. He had a cup of coffee from our lovely neighbors at DayDream and is ready to go. He’s currently skating somewhere with Evan Mock but tomorrow morning we set sail to the north.

I want to quickly and humbly thank everyone who chipped in on this project. I was a doubter. I had no idea that the response would be this. And all the offers for link ups and to contribute are overwhelming and amazing. You all proved us wrong. The fact that we can skip the corporate sponsors and knowing that you guys trust us enough to help fuel our creative endeavors is extremely powerful and fires us all up in ways I can’t even explain. So thank you, so fucking much, we won’t let you down. —Travis 







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“Never trust a thought that didn’t come from walking.” That’s a quote by an old madman by the name of Friedrich Nietzsche. He’s an existential pioneer and had one hell of a dark passenger throughout his life. But the man sure did drop some wisdom while he was here. I bring this up as a bit…

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Coffee is a drug. That’s masked by ubiquity and social acceptance but it’s just hot speed. Black hot wonderful speed. That thought lingered last Saturday morning as a nice young man in a waxed-cotton apron and mustache — and not a November mustache, but a real annual subscription to the thing — fixed my Guatemalan…

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