Land and his son Micah will compete at this weekend's Bodyboarding US Festival in Ocean Beach, the first major sponging contest California has seen in years.
Bodyboarder Diego Land (right) and his son Micah | Photo by Tony Prince
It’s been a rough couple of decades for competitive bodyboarders. In the ’90s, contests, magazines, and clothing companies fueled a vigorous industry. Stars were born from their prowess belly-riding three-and-a-half-foot foam boards.
Then came hard times. Competitive circuits faded away. Contracts dried up. Bodyboards gathered dust in the garage, even as surfing—which, for the first time this year will become an Olympic sport—hit the mainstream.
There hasn’t been a major contest in California for many years. That will change later this month, though, with a two-day bodyboarding contest and festival at the OB Pier, with professional and amateur divisions. The organizers are using the Bodyboarding US Festival, taking place Nov. 23-24, as a trial run for what they hope will be a North America pro tour with stops in California, the East Coast, Mexico, and Puerto Rico, that could launch as early as next year.
“We believe for the sport to grow and be sustainable it needs events at a national level,” says Washington Teixeira, owner of Bodyboarding US. “We need to create idols through contests like this.”
When Teixeira announced the event earlier this year, competitors flocked to register—a sign of what spongers have always known: Dedicated riders kept the flame alive through lean times. Now a new generation is taking the reins, and maybe leading the sport to another break-out moment.
The father-son duo of Diego and Micah Land, residents of Vista who are both competing in the event this weekend, exemplify this. Now 42, former competitive rider Diego Land has passed the torch to his son, 14, a San Marcos High School student who last year was crowned champ of the California Scholastic Surf Series.
We caught up with the father, a sales manager for an off-road company in North County, on the eve of the upcoming contest.
How did you and your son get into sponging?
I’ve been bodyboarding since I was 10—I basically grew up surfing Oceanside Pier. I competed for a stint. Tried to make a living at it but realized it was a lot harder than I thought. I found free-surfing and traveling to be more enjoyable, so I tried to get exposure that way, shooting photos for magazines.
I introduced Micah to it when he was 6. He latched on to it right away. It allowed us to be closer and for me to share my passion. He loved going out even if it was small. Starting at a young age he progressed really quickly, taking off on bigger waves than I did at his age. Watching him grow into the sport reignited me, and I was like, “Wow, let’s do this together.”
He competed for the first time in middle school. He started getting into the finals consistently and just got better and better. In 8th Grade he was the state champion for the California Scholastic Surf Series, out of 26 schools.
We’re both really excited. He’s competing at a high school level and to do this on the side will better his ability and competitive skill set. As for me, I’m excited to see what I have left in the gas tank at my age. Everybody I bodyboard with is stoked.
What impact could this contest have for the sport?
It’s going to be great exposure for bodyboarding in Southern California. There are lots of bodyboarders in SoCal, but we haven’t had a contest or series in such a long time. It could bring some life back into bodyboarding. I have so many friends I’ve met through the sport who would like to see something like this contest come back to California.
It’s been progressing for years, we just don’t have that global attention like surfing. The guys that still do it are a tribe. We have so many close friends and people we’ve met. It’s a great group of individuals to be a part of. This contest means a lot to the guys in SoCal that bodyboard. There are a lot of adults and kids who rip on a bodyboard but don’t get any exposure.
What trajectory has bodyboarding been on since its heyday?
In the ’90s, there was a circuit through Morey Boogie, that’s what really started the whole contest thing for bodyboarding. That fizzled away after several years. I wouldn’t say the sport lost momentum, though. It’s always been here.
What is it you love so much about sponging?
There are so many moves we can do on a boogie board. We can get so much deeper on the wave than surfers, and surf shallower waves, whether that’s shore break or reefs. The experience is totally different from surfing.
Five Questions With Local Bodyboarder Diego Land
Bodyboarder Diego Land (right) and his son Micah | Photo by Tony Prince
The sun rises over Pechanga Arena’s parking lot, illuminating a near-endless patchwork of polyester tents, the hundreds of ad hoc storefronts that make up Kobey’s Swap Meet, the largest outdoor marketplace in San Diego.
Deep in the sea of booths, Wali Amin settles comfortably in his abyss of folding tables, crowded with a dizzying array of used doodads: shoes, CDs, a picnic basket. Amin has been buying out storage spaces for the past 12 years—but this is far from his first business venture.
Photo Credit: Walter Marino
“It’s in my blood,” he says. “My father was an entrepreneur, my grandfather was an entrepreneur, and so on. They used to travel the Silk Road.”
Amin’s father was a fur merchant in Kabul, Afghanistan. Amin was a tween when the Soviet Union invaded the country in 1979. His family fled to India, where Amin earned a college degree before moving to the US in 1990.
In between shifts at a gas station and as a valet driver in San Diego, Amin slung antiques at small swap meets in El Cajon. Over time, he eventually opened a high-end Italian clothing store. He married in 2000 and started a family. Then, the 2008 recession struck, and he lost everything.
Photo Credit: Walter Marino
“There were times, after I went bankrupt, [that] I didn’t have the money to buy McDonald’s,” he says. “[But] we have to work, you know? This country is opportunity, and it all depends on how you take it.”
Amin turned to garage sales and storage unit auctions to rebuild his business. “The best thing about doing this is the excitement of what comes out of the box,” he says. “It might be gold, and then there’s times that rats jump out.”
A customer pauses at one of Amin’s tables to pluck a beautiful acoustic guitar—one of the many treasures Amin pulled from obscurity. The drive to make the most from the least seems to be another family trait.
“[My brother] always used to tell me that you have to make good out of your bad,” Amin says.
Isabella Dallas is a freelance writer for San Diego Magazine and the Arts and Culture Editor at The Daily Aztec in her final year at San Diego State University. She previously worked as an editorial intern for SDM, but when she’s not writing, you can find her trying the best coffee spots in SD, devouring the latest rom-coms, and indulging in anything and everything pop culture.
A distraction from “COVID madness” was all that Erick Toussaint was looking for when he picked up a pack of Crayola chalk back in April. The lifelong artist needed something to do that would pique his kids’ interest and break up the monotony of quarantine. So they transformed the sidewalk outside their Ocean Beach home into a canvas, starting with a re-creation of the Mona Lisa.
The reaction from neighbors was almost immediate. “I realized if there was something I could do to brighten people’s days during this time, it made sense to just keep on doing it,” he says.
Ocean Beach Artist / Draw
Dewey Keithly
Toussaint has created one new piece a week ever since, spending around four hours to complete each one. While he does re-create well-known art, he feels most proud of the more personal pieces, like a tribute to a neighbor’s dog who had recently died, and original works that shed a light on the human rights issues close to his heart.
He begins with only a rough outline, and enjoys learning the ins and outs of working with the medium as he goes—for instance, that ocean breezes will erase fine lines almost immediately. To counteract that, he smudges each stroke in to get a richer color and give the art a little more longevity.
Ocean Beach Artist / Chalk
Dewey Keithly
But the quick cycle of creation, admiration, and destruction is part of what Toussaint loves most about his work. “I was the kid at the museum who always wanted to touch the paintings,” he says. “This isn’t so precious. Dogs roll over the chalk while I’m working, my kids ride their scooters over it, and by the end of the week, the piece is pretty faded.”
When social interaction is kept to a minimum, a sense of community can be hard to come by. But for Toussaint and his OB neighbors, one artistic hand and a pack of chalk has helped create a space for people to gather at a distance, say hello, and stay connected through art.
Erick Toussaint re-creates the famed Roman sculpture Laocoön and His Sons
A perfectly designed home rarely happens by accident. Those kitchens that feel effortless and rooms that seem to tell a story the second you walk in? They’re usually the work of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.
It’s knowing which ideas will actually work, which materials will hold up over time, and how to turn a collection of choices into a space that feels intentional. That’s where a professional interior designer comes in.
For the American Society of Interior Designers (ASID) California San Diego Chapter, the goal is to help people see interior design as more than just the finished look. Behind every well-designed space is a process built on technical expertise. Designers are educated in everything from professional software and construction details to building codes, space planning, materials, and functionality.
Courtesy of ASID
“People don’t always realize how much goes on behind the scenes,” Kirsten Recce , current president of the ASID California San Diego Chapter, says. “Our designers are not just doing furniture placement and color selection and picking out new fluffy pillows. That’s not what they’re trained for.”
ASID members bring formal education, continued learning, and industry knowledge to their projects, helping create spaces that are not only beautiful, but designed to work. A paint color that changes completely depending on the lighting. A material that looks beautiful in a showroom but doesn’t make sense for everyday life. A layout that photographs well but doesn’t function for the people living there. These are the details where professional guidance can make all the difference.
Still, one of the biggest misconceptions about hiring an interior designer is that it’s reserved for massive renovations, luxury homes, or people who already know exactly what they want. The process can feel intimidating. Where do you begin? Is a designer worth the investment? What if you only need help with one room?
ASID’s answer: start with one hour.
ASID’s Spruce Up events break down one of the biggest barriers between homeowners and professional design: knowing where to begin. Held twice a year, the community program gives homeowners the chance to work directly with an ASID designer through a one-hour, $125 consultation in their own home. Whether you’re looking for advice on furniture placement, window treatments, kitchen and bath updates, remodeling ideas, vacation rentals, color selections or something else entirely, the upcoming September 2026 event offers an approachable way to get expert guidance before committing to a full project. Signups are open through Sept. 7, with consultations taking place Sept. 21 through Oct. 31. Proceeds benefit ASID San Diego’s educational and community programs. Register here!
Courtesy of ASID
“It’s a great opportunity for people who are in that exploratory phase,” Recce says. “Maybe they’re not sure they want to hire an interior designer yet, or they think it sounds daunting or expensive. This gives them a chance to discover what working with a designer is actually like.”
Design is personal. A good designer isn’t just creating a beautiful room; they’re helping create a space that fits the way someone lives.
“We’re a resource to all of San Diego County,” Recce says. “It doesn’t cost anything to pick up the phone and call and ask. We’ll answer.”
Captain Keno’s No. 8 special—pancakes, sausage, toast, home fries, and eggs for $2.99—was the fuel that powered Benji Weatherley for surf competitions as a teenage pro. A couple decades later, tears were shed when the Coast Highway dive-slash-eatery called it a day after 54 years. Usually, the guts of a shuttered restaurant go to liquidation auctions or straight to the dump to decompose along with its legend. Instead, Weatherley took in Keno’s spare parts—plus other relics from Encinitas’ past—and used them to build the newest community hangout.
Every single piece in the place is from somewhere in this town,” Weatherley says about Breakers Cafe Bar & Grill. “I’m not going to settle for anything less.”
Breakers is a Hawaiian hideout in an uncool part of the coastal surf town, but it’s got the set design of an Encinitas superfan. The plates, silverware, and coffee mugs are from Keno’s. So are the tables and booths. There’s a bench made from the last table preserved in The Derby House (a building that, for over a century, was a hotel, then became a hospital, a religious retreat, and a private home). Weatherley’s not performing CPR on old upholstery because he’s a fan of antique furniture. It’s a method to bring people together.
“Representing nostalgia in this town is the only way to grasp a hold of the community,” Weatherley says. “Everyone wants to touch and feel something different from what they’re experiencing on their phones.”
Photo Credit: Matt Furman
Every week, locals bring him photos, artifacts, and bits of paraphernalia from Encinitas’ past and ask Weatherley to give them a new home. “I’ve had ladies who were there when [Captain Keno’s] opened cry in my arms and say, ‘This table is where I had my second birthday with my grandma,’” he says. “They tell me these stories, and I tell them I have all the same stories about my mom.” (Weatherley’s mom first brought him to Keno’s and helped raise the young surfers from the Momentum Generation documentary—Weatherley, Taylor Steele, Rob Machado, Kelly Slater, etc.—as they surfed some of the world’s most dangerous waves at Pipeline in Hawaii. Back then, she owned Breakers Restaurant & Bar in Haleiwa. Name sound familiar?)
Weatherley has always been the funniest man in the room. He calls Breakers “the Chuck E. Cheese of Encinitas.” The restaurant hosts hula dancing classes, open-mic comedy nights, and evenings bartended by longtime Captain Keno’s barkeep Vaka Kaufusi. Cult-loved reggae band Steel Pulse hit the Breakers stage recently to perform a new song that Weatherley also helped write. His longtime friend Jack Johnson has dropped by to sing a few, too.
Despite not having a fancy location along the 101, people are catching on. Fire stations and hospitals have held staff parties there. Weatherley also currently sponsors four sports teams.
“Last night, I had a girl say, ‘I want my birthday party at Breakers,’” he says. “That, to me, is community in a nutshell.”
Emma Veidt is an editor at San Diego Magazine. She earned her bachelor's and master's degrees from the Missouri School of Journalism. She loves running, hiking, and rock climbing, but really, she mostly loves encounters with the street cats around North Park.
Walking into a room full of strangers isn’t high on the fun index for most. It’s inherently awkward: Everyone’s standing in closed-loop clusters, deep in conversation, and, depending on your social aptitude, the feeling is somewhere between light apprehension and burning alive from the inside out. The pull to retreat or reflexively look busy on your phone is stronger than the drink you now deeply crave. Having friends is nice, but making friends can be brutal.
There’s plenty of commentary on the loneliness epidemic. Last year, the American Psychiatric Association reported that one in three adults feel lonely at least once a week; those aged 18 to 34 are more likely to feel isolated and even more likely to turn to social media as a result. Dr. Vivek Murthy’s “My Parting Prescription for America” cautioned that “being socially disconnected increases our risk of heart disease, dementia, depression, anxiety, and premature death.” So it’s not just an emotional need; it’s nearly nutritional—chit-chat and the occasional wine-fueled, emotional deep-dive are just as important as Pilates and a reasonable amount of kale.
Finding social connections in any city is hard, but San Diego has very specific challenges. This is largely a transient population that acts as a temporary hotspot for many and a permanent home for few. Pick your reason: high rent, surreal gas prices, housing shortage, meh job opportunities (ranked 71st in the country in 2025), or the fact that active military is a sizable chunk of us (110,000-ish)—stationed here for a stretch, then gone. This constant flow of departees sucks out the potential for deeply established families and friend groups, leaving a good share of nomads, searchers, and plenty of people feeling socially awkward.
“There’s an underlying loneliness in all of us,” says Ramel Wallace, the host of monthly meetup CreativeMornings. “There are not a lot of San Diegans who are born and raised here, so [even those] San Diegans end up being just as lonely as the person who just got here.”
Photo Credit: Blair Kirby
Every month, in local libraries, breweries, and small businesses, there are ambitious social architects who have made a career out of undoing social sads. Extroverted champions of the awkward and searching, they’ve struck gold on in-person connection.
The first moments in a social situation are crucial. Sets the tone and cools the nerves.
At Pitch-A-Friend, singles recruit their close friends to present a slideshow of their dating green flags. The entry points for connection at Pitch-A-Friend are simple, old tech: stickers. Each colored sticker indicates if the wearer is single or taken, queer or straight, or practicing ethical non-monogamy (in a partnership but open to others under a mutual understanding).
At the helm of each showcase is Arielle Fuller, aka Chief Wingwoman, who is making dating hopeful again. As Fuller explains, this takes some of the fear of rejection out of a first interaction. “Putting a sticker on immediately means, ‘I wanted to leave my house and talk to someone, and I am a safe space to come and speak to me,’” she says.
Of course, not all of San Diego’s events designed to make connections are romantic. On the last Friday of every month, hundreds gather at San Diego Central Library for the local chapter of CreativeMornings—an org formed to unite creatives in various cities across the world (designers, artists, writers, producers, performers, architects, etc.).
Photo Credit: Gina Ribando
These aren’t your standard business card swaps, though. Coming from a hip-hop background, host Wallace uses call-and-response to break the fourth wall. “This is not my stage at all, this is our stage,” he says.
In your standard lecture-based meetup, the crowd silently faces the host and acknowledges nobody except those they came with. At CreativeMornings, everyone is encouraged to look around, pay attention to the strangers in the audience—not just the host. Wallace will pull volunteers to read the CM manifesto aloud, and he passes the mic to creatives, who make 30-second pitches to the community about projects they’re working on—and there’s always an invitation to connect and collaborate with the presenters whose ideas struck a chord.
The U.S. Chamber of Connection (yes it exists) says people experience life transitions nearly every year, and in these stretches are more open to forming new habits, relationships, and communities. In a revolving-door city like ours, the transition often comes when someone moves away. In 2023, the Census Bureau reported San Diego had the ninth-highest rates of domestic out-migration in the US.
This poses an issue for friendships that IRL SD addresses in monthly friend-making events called 619 Night.
“San Diego isn’t a place a lot of people stay forever,” says Alex Hunter, the creator of IRL SD. “They leave, and people [who stay] lose that community, so they’re hungry for community again.”
Their website describes the vibe as “backyard party meets college fair meets networking event meets happy hour.” Each follows a theme—wellness, sports, refresh and reset, etc.—with related community groups joining as well.
“The people I encounter are trying to get a fresh start in some capacity, so they’re more open, receptive, and ready to meet new friends,” Hunter says. “They need the circle.”
Photo Credit: Elysian Visions by Deaune Boyd LLC
Another way adults can break out of this disconnection is to revert in unison, says artist Elisa Summiel-Bey. The 2015-ish adult coloring book moment in the US was based on some real science, with multiple studies finding coloring has a noticeable meditative and stress-release effect by taking the brain away from anxieties and mental inventories, and focusing it on a simple, easy art. Summiel-Bey’s company Illustrated Melanin throws “Color & Chill” events, turning that trend into a group exercise, along with live DJ sets, wellness experts doing sound baths, and food and drink from BIPOC-owned local businesses. “I tend to think of coloring as your way to tap back into your childlike play,” she says. “As adults, I think we’re almost scared to let loose and have that unabashed joy.”
All of these social meetups attract crowds of likeminded connection-seekers, but high attendance is not the only thing that matters. Metrics nuts can track RSVPs, but spreadsheets can’t capture intangible wins: friendships made, innovative ideas sparked, collaborations kicked off. At CreativeMornings, Wallace redefines ROI as Return On Imagination. Resounding success means thoughtful inquiries over coffee, curiosity about the monthly meeting themes, and requests to take the microphone.
A simple, observable ROI is an increased number of window shoppers to the experience—on the periphery, watching from afar, looking for the right way in. Hunter from IRL SD sees the anxiety in her DMs. “The scariest part for you right now is not meeting new friends: It’s the unknown,” she says. “It’s the gap between ‘I’m here’ and ‘That’s where I need to be.’ If I can help you understand, or get a little bit of a shape around that unknown, it’s much more approachable.”
Courtesy of IRL SD
Being able to bridge that gap, however, depends on your ability to step out of your own mind. “It’s not a connection crisis; it’s a courage and confidence crisis,” says Fuller. The first hello could be as easy as, “Hey, cool shirt.” These are the types of things she includes in her confidence lab reels on Instagram and weekly newsletters.
Ever left a social event and shot straight into a spiral? Was I being weird? Why did I tell that story? I hope that person moves to another state very soon.
The experts say that post-event self-interrogation is a standard-issue part of being alive.
“I love awkward people, and I love being awkward myself,” says Wallace. “It’s humbling to experience: ‘I’m not alone. Finally someone is not put together.’ So give yourself that grace.”
Jeannine Boisse (she/her) is a freelance writer and professional creative with a background in Radio & Television. Based in sunny San Diego, Jeannine spends her time exploring the city's vibrant brewery scene, cooking up new recipes in the kitchen, and connecting with new people.
Chemotherapy and radiation have long been considered gold standards of cancer treatment, but they can cause severe side effects. A promising new approach called theranostics—a combination of “therapeutics” and “diagnostics”—could offer patients with certain types of metastatic cancers new hope. It’s a two-step process that uses a drug that binds to specific receptors on cancer cells. Advanced imaging detects this radioisotope, allowing doctors to then use a second radioisotope that binds to the cancer cells and destroys them. Click here to learn more about how specialists at Scripps Cancer Center are using theranostics.
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