140,000 people watched the men's finals; 500,000 total attended the 2009 U.S. Open of Surfing.

But now, exactly half a century after the first West Coast Surfing Championships back in 1959, things have changed drastically.

This past July, the U.S. Open of Surfing was held, as always, at the Pier at Huntington Beach –- the original Surf City, USA. But this time, Hurley, the famed surfboard makers, boosted the purse prize for the men’s title to $100,000 — the largest ever in surfing!

The winner was a complete surprise, too. An unknown Huntington Beach townie named Brett Simpson took home the U.S. Open’s men’s title. That was a first. 500,000 fans attended over the nine day event; at least some of them had to think that one of the 10 famous All-Stars would win as usual.

Brett Simpson, 24, inspired the crowd with his surprising win.

But this was the year the public voted to decide which of the competing males would be All-Stars of the World Professional Surfers’ athlete union. These fans brought the following surfers into the All-Star pantheon: Kelly Slater, Mick Fanning, CJ Hobgood, Andy Irons, Bruce Irons, Dane Reynolds, Rob Machado, Taj Burrow, Jordy Smith and Yadin Nicol.

In gratitude, these stars gave bonus performances gliding atop the waves to the 140,000 fans who watched the men’s final. Fans also got an autograph session. Bruce Irons even signed a very pregnant bikini girl’s belly!

Kelly Slater: nine-time champion.

Other sponsored events included women’s events, junior events, and BMX competitions. There was also a noseriding invitational and a skating demo.

The surrounding sports culture made a good showing, too. For example, bands played the music showcases, and there was a fashion showdown called Walk the Walk. Celebrity judges included former UFC light heavyweight champion Tito Ortiz, actor Wilmer Valderrama, and of course Mr. Hurley himself.

But the biggest inspiration came from Brett Simpson’s win. Simpson’s father was a defensive back for the Los Angeles Rams; young Brett was expected to play traditional sports. Instead, he got hooked on surfing by the time he reached age 12.

CJ Hobgood: another former champion.

Widely reported in the local papers was Simpson’s recollection of how his father questioned his passion, asking him, “What the hell are you doing?” He answered by going down to the beach twice a day, every day. He had, he said, only one goal in mind: the U.S. Open. Now 24, he had the satisfaction of knowing his father was in the crowd, watching him make this unexpected win.

Making — or watching — surf history is an extraordinary way for anyone to spend at least part of a summer vacation.

Hoiyin Ip is a freelance photographer and writer, who would love to wax Kelly Slater’s surfboard for the upcoming Hurley Pro Trestles 2009. Hoiyin admires the grace and beauty of the sport, if not the crowds.

No fossil fuels required for these airplanes.

Some purists prefer driving stick-shifts to automatics. Others like to play LPs on a record player instead of listening to an iPod. And then there are the model airplane purists, who power their aircraft not with electric motors, but with strips of rubber.

For George Benson, building the plane is as important as flying it.

George Benson, who will turn 82 in June, is one of these purists, as he is an enthusiast of rubber-powered model airplanes. He remembers growing up in England, when there was a huge interest in the latest civilian and war planes both in Europe and in the United States.

Benson and his father would build and fly the planes into the early years of World War II. Model airplane competitions were intense, and sometimes there were larger, heavier, and noisier gasoline-powered models.

Nowadays, technology and modern materials mean just about everyone can use a remote control with a model airplane that is purchased ready to fly and usually manufactured from molded plastic. Some prefer a challenge, so they fly “free-flight” models that are unpredictable: they go where the wind blows.

Models are often built—without nostalgia—to plans from the 1920s and ‘30s.

But the devotees of rubber-powered model airplanes go so far as to keep their art close to the way Alphonse Penaud invented it, back in 1871. His “Planophore” achieved a flight of 131 feet in the Tuileries Gardens in Paris. Strips of rubber powered his model airplane, which was a delicate arrangement of balsa wood and tissue paper.

That’s the way Benson and his colleagues like to keep their hobby. They belong to the Marin Aero Club, in the San Francisco Bay Area, and they meet regularly to fly their planes. They also show the younger flyers how, when it’s done properly and if all goes well, the planes are “trimmed” to climb steadily, reach level flight, then slowly glide back to earth. But there are endless variables; one of the most common is a rising warm air “thermal,” which can make the plane soar out of sight in minutes.

Marius Canard at age 17, learning about the hobby.

Benson, who is a long-time resident of Mill Valley, California, says the hobby is incredibly satisfying. There’s pride in the workmanship required to construct the planes, and in the skill to “trim,” or adjust them, to fly well.

“Once flying,” he says, “it is a beautiful sight to see one’s handicraft overhead with the sun streaming through the tissue, revealing the wood framework.”

No seatbelts or traytables. Just sun, wind, and handicraft.

Benson reveals there’s really only one drawback: “With an exceptionally long flight, one occasionally loses a plane.”

Roberto Soncin Gerometta is an established travel and corporate photographer based in San Francisco.

For more information, see the Marin Aero Club blog.

Raw hoops: The SBT Shockwaves of the Shoshone-Bannock Tribe, from Lapwai, Idaho. (Photos: NABI)

Across the nation, Indian kids are dribbling, weaving and jumping, and pretending to be Michael Jordan. Sometimes they’re playing on a pristine court in the local school gym; other times, they’re making their move for hoop glory under a bright blue sky on a packed dirt “court” with an ancient, rusting hoop attached to the side of a barn, with a slowly-leaking ball that has to be pumped up periodically.

No matter how poor a community may be, parents scrimp and save to get to games to cheer their kids on. Teams named the Winslow Bulldogs, Hopi Bruins, or San Carlos Braves go head-to-head to bring home coveted state championship trophies, traveling as many as eight hours on a converted old bus to play teams in Window Rock, Snowflake, Casa Grande or Flagstaff.

Tribal newspapers always devote lots of room to report the latest game stats. Even KTNN, the Navajo Nation’s radio station, broadcasts Phoenix Suns games in the Navajo language.

Right now, hoop junkies are preparing for July’s tribal basketball extravaganza. The Native American Basketball Invitational, or NABI, is the closest thing the United States has to a national high school championship for American Indians.

High school? Right – it seems that scouts could never quite grok that the next LeBron James could be lurking inside a rez high school, so these potential hoop stars haven’t yet had access to college sports. They still don’t know that the excitement of trying for three-point long shots while the crowd screams their names isn’t necessarily a winning strategy.

Tex G. Hall was one of those young players who aspired to the pros. But he never got the grooming, coaching, scholarships or national attention that a top college program gives to its stars, so he never made it. He went on to become chairman of the Mandan, Hidatsa and Arikara Nation, otherwise known as the Three Affiliated Tribes. And now, he is the honorary president of NABI, to see if he can’t help the younger generation reach hoop heaven.

NABI was started in 2003, and it’s grown into the country’s largest Native American basketball tournament. Men’s and women’s teams from high schools across the continent converge on Phoenix every year to vie for top honors. The competition has also garnered the support of the Phoenix Suns, sports manufacturing giant Nike, and tribes and enterprises. The finals are played on the boards of the Suns’ home turf, the U.S. Airways Center.

NABI’s efforts and unvarnished thrills are beginning to bear fruit. The NCAA finally awarded NABI with a coveted certification in 2007, and now college coaches are beginning to troll for talent. Anthony Brown, of the Cheyenne-Arapaho Tribe, was the tournament’s Most Valuable Player in 2003. He signed to play pro basketball in Spain. Others are now making their way through college ball.

The next hoop legend could be practicing free throws right now on a rusty old hoop with a half-flat basketball on a dirt court. NABI tickets are only $10; you could see it happen yourself.

Debra Utacia Krol, an enrolled member of the Xolon (or Jolon) Salinan Tribe of central California, is a freelance journalist based in Arizona.