 sometimes looks like the guy whose life extended roughly from Hermosa Beach to Santa Barbara, and no further. Not sure if he ever once went to Hawaii or Australia or even Mexico. Hell, I'm not sure if the guy ever went left. Every photo of Carson that comes to mind, he's hanging 'em at 

—amazing stuff, graceful and powerful and tons of flair. Way up there in the pointbreak Hall of Fame. But not a lot of range.

From another angle, though, Carson has traveled an enormous distance. For 50-plus years, he's been revered not just for his surfing, but for the grinning beer-breathing over-the-top legend of his youth. Lance loosening up for the afternoon session at Malibu with a six-pack of Millers. Lance playing matador with cars speeding by on PCH. Lance ready to liven up a party with a spontaneous burst of public nudity. "He loved bizarre and outrageous situations, and if he couldn't find them he'd create them," fellow Malibu surfer Mike Doyle said. "It was almost like performance art. I think Lance might have been the first punk rocker."

Is that leering cape-wielding dipsomaniacal version of Lance Carson funny? It is, yeah. Do I judge, or cast aspersions? I do not. But you gotta let it go, sooner rather than later, and Lance didn't, and eventually, as he told surf writer Paul Holmes, "it made me a second-rate person." Lost his wife, quit making boards, blew a sweet 

 gig, strapped on 25-pounds worth of beer gut, and wound up with a semi-permanent headache and bloodshot eyes, hanging drywall. Finally bottomed out in 1979. Got sober. Trimmed down spectacularly. Helped launch the Surfrider Foundation. Went back to making boards. Was arguably the best longboarder at Malibu throughout the 1980s—best style, for sure. Still sober today, still making boards.

In the two or three conversations I've had with him over the years, and even more so in Holmes' 1999 

 magazine profile, I've found Carson to be one of the most compelling, charismatic people in the sport. Smart and funny, blunt but never cruel. Straight-shooter. The straightest. Has an amazingly common touch, very much flesh-and-blood (nobody I'd rather have a beer with; is that messed up to say?), but can also tap into a ten-mile-wide reservoir of wisdom, all of it hard-won. Never bought into his own legend, which is about as attractive a quality as you can find in a surfer of Carson's stature. "I hate it when the surf media uses that word," Carson told Holmes. "Legends? Really? We were just a bunch of guys who happened to be in the right place at a special time." 

 hated surf contests. "Sitting out there in conditions I normally wouldn't paddle out in, trying to do my best in this totally artificial setup, with time limits and everything. Yeah, I had a hard time with that."

LANCE CARSON HANGS TEN, KO'S JOHN BARLEYCORN, STARTS SURFRIDER FOUNDATION

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