Like a lot of the surfers I know, I spent a part of the previous weekend online watching the World Surf League’s competition held at Kelly Slater’s Surf Ranch in central California.

One of the great things about surfing is that it tends to be a superb equalizer.

A much-heralded documentary film that shines a spotlight on the triumphant but tumultuous life and tragic death of professional surfing icon Andy Irons is headed for Galveston.

Yet another retailer has responded to public pressure to stop using disposable plastic bags.

The long, seemingly unending flat spell has continued this week, as the Gulf of Mexico continues to do its best impression of an inland lake.

With the World Surf League’s season at the halfway mark, the so-called Brazilian Storm has morphed into a full-on raging hurricane.

Once you’re surrounded by it and play in it, the water’s allure is addictive.

James Fulbright has tanker surfing down to an art and a science. He’s been exploring these waters for years, mapping the shallows where the wakes from passing tankers morph into beautiful, peeling waves that surfers can ride.

At least one surfboard shaper in Southern California has asked the Trump administration to consider levying tariffs on imported surfboards.

What’s changed over the past decade or so is where newly acquired surfboards originate. Based on the photos I’m seeing online, it seems that most surfers in the Lone Star State don’t ride boards shaped in Texas.

The state’s two artificial wave parks — NLand Surf Park in Austin and BSR Surf Resort in Waco — have reopened following brief closures for maintenance.

Stephen Hadley is a longtime surfer who lives and works in Galveston. If you have an idea for this column, email him at stephendhadley@gmail.com.

A strong contingent of Texas surfers is battling it out at the U.S. Surfing Championships in Southern California this weekend.

There seems to be a special day on the calendar set aside to honor or celebrate just about everything: Donuts, hamburgers, workers, bosses. You name it, and it probably has a day.

On a rare quiet evening this week, between switching channels to dodge the Rockets’ playoff collapse, I finally had the chance to watch Lauryn LeClere’s film, “Broken Waves: Origins of a Texas Surf Cult.”

The tropics are already heating up with a disturbance in the Gulf.

If it weren’t for Robby Robison and his Sunrise Surf Shop, it’s likely surfing would never have become the all-encompassing passion that it has for me.

The first dispatches started trickling in last weekend in the form of a few words posted on social media.

The idea for the inaugural La Izquierda Surf and Music Festival took hold during a drive along Seawall Boulevard last year.

Upper coast surfers have been spoiled over the last month or so. Each of the past few weekends we’ve been greeted by stellar surf groomed clean by offshore breezes. It appears our luck, however, has finally run out.

Stephen Hadley is a longtime surfer who lives and works in Galveston. If you have an idea for this column, email him at stephendhadley@gmail.com.

One of the biggest changes in surf lineups along the upper Texas coast in the past decade has been the increasing abundance of watercraft other than surfboards being used to catch waves.

Stephen Hadley is a longtime surfer who lives and works in Galveston. If you have an idea for this column, email him at stephendhadley@gmail.com.

A few weeks back, when the Texas version of competitive surfing made its way to the island, there was Brett Hopkins, hooting from the seawall in support of his son Kris as he battled to the win in one of several heats that day.

The water’s surface, glittering gold as the sun crested the horizon and broke through the underside of the Pleasure Pier, was smooth as glass, roughed only occasionally by the little swells sneaking through the barnacled pilings.

For surfers along the upper Texas coast, sand is a most precious commodity.

Part of surfing’s allure is its mystery.

With the beginning of spring just around the corner, it seems everything in the surf universe is starting to heat up.

The state’s top competitive surfers will converge on the island today for Texas Gulf Surfing Association’s Galveston Open.

For so long, the wave that was now peeling off in front of me for 200 yards had just been a photo tacked to the wall of a Galveston surf shop.

The art and craft of shaping a surfboard has followed a well-worn tradition for a reason: Learning to build a good surfboard that performs optimally can take years.

Surfing in cold water provides clarity and reflection.

I’m a surfer in my late 40s, a fact that stares back at me each morning as I look in the mirror and see the wrinkles creasing across my forehead and framing the corners of my eyes.

While the upper Texas coast has been generally frozen for much of the week, keeping even the hardiest from attempting to catch a wave, the surfing world has been glued to big wave locations in Hawaii, Portugal and Northern California.

There are likely as many reasons surfers first pick up a board and paddle out as there are wave riders throughout the world.

The act of riding waves naturally lends itself to abundant and colorful descriptions of lively waters interacting with the bends of verdant coastlines. Sprinkle in copious amounts of travel, the inevitable lessons in patience of waiting for surf and immersion in new cultures, and you have a …

Only surfers with the heartiest of souls and the thickest of wetsuits ventured into the water this week along the upper Texas coast.

Surfing has a beautiful and colorful history.

I came to love surfing because of a knee injury.

Surfers will come up with whatever means necessary to replicate the feeling of riding a wave.

If you’ve ever ridden what you’d consider a magic surfboard — one that seems to meld perfectly with your abilities and the conditions to transform average sessions into otherworldly experiences — it’s likely that craft was shaped by hand.

As I was sitting in the lineup Wednesday, I couldn’t help but notice the hint of sea mist hovering along the seawall.

The cooler weather that blew through the island Friday was yet another reminder that the beach water temperature won’t be getting any warmer for the rest of the year.

The little red Datsun pickup truck wasn’t much to look at it. There was rust all over its fenders and it seemed the bed was a few deep potholes away from collapsing.

In 1984, a group of surfers in Malibu, Calif., were worried that they would lose access to the famed Malibu Point surf break because of looming development.

The new surfboard is sitting in the corner of a room in our house. It’s a beauty, shaped to perfection by a local craftsman who has been creating masterpieces for wave riders here for nearly two decades.

A new documentary, “Broken Waves: Origins of a Texas Surf Cult,” chronicles the storied era in Galveston. The film will make its debut at the Endless Summer Galveston Reunion, set for next Saturday, Sept. 30 at Moody Gardens.

The pay phone just outside the Santa Fe High School cafeteria was a common companion for me and my surfing friends in the late 1980s.