Surfin' Indo Style

Hello!
And Happy Memorial Day! Remember to tell all those important veterans thank you! (So thank you Grandad Jack and all the others that read this!)
We are here in Phuket, Thailand. It's an interesting place. The tsunami devestation of 2004 seems to haunt the area even though the affects cannot be easily seen.

I believe that when I last left you we were enjoying the sunny shores of Gili Air. As our days in Lombok came to a close we had the chance to see another part of the island entirely.

Leaving Gili Air was difficult and I feared that the next location would be disappointing if only in contrast to the paradise we had just left. But here’s a true travel lesson for you – paradise has many forms and every place has something to offer if only you’ll allow yourself to see it. I truly believe that the places I have seen that disappointed me had much more to do with my emotional state than with the physical or cultural atmosphere surrounding me. If it’s true that life is what you make of it then travel is a condensed version of that truth. Kuta, Lombok was a good example of that.
Kuta, Lombok sits on the southern shoreline of Lombok. It’s a sleepy town that serves as a hub for surfers that frequent the area for the amazing surf breaks found there. Indonesia is relatively new on the surf scene (when compared with say Hawaii and Australia) but it has much to offer as we were to soon find out.
Our first day of exploring the area surrounding Kuta took us along the coast to Gerupak, the site of a few of the most popular surf breaks. This little port town was in sad shape. A former fishing village, it was now over fished and overly dependant on tourism. The harbor was full of long boats that in a previous life had hauled fish from the sea. Now they took surfers to the popular breaks which could only be reached by boat. We checked around at the numerous surf shops and signed up for a morning session the next day. Then we headed back to Kuta along the hilly, pock-marked roads.
It was a spectacular drive. The ocean sat complacently to our left, blue waves crowned in white silently stealing the shore line one wave at a time. To our right all was green. Hills rose up capped in trees and vines. Herds of cattle, tawny and tan, plodded along the road with their watchmen staring more intently at the passing mopeds than at the livestock in their care. Occasionally a herd of water buffalo would appear. These poor creatures got the short end of the stick. They are ugly, slow and stinky. Their appearance is of a badly formed cow with balding hair and big flat faces. Even their babies missed out on that cute stage that almost all animals go through.
I watched the scenery go by and tried to soak it all in – the green of the grass, the smells of the countryside, and the sounds of birds and passing mopeds. So much of it was foreign. So much of it was familiar.
The next morning we rose early and were in Gerupak by 8 am awaiting our departure. The air was already balmy. I remember walking across the crumbling street and through a narrow alley between rows of rundown cement block shanties to pick up one of the surfboards we would be using that day. Such a strange sight: a home of such simple and basic construction with a rack of modern (and well-worn) surfboards stacked behind it just like you would expect to see in some Hawaiian garage. It is one of those surreal travel memories born of a moment completely incapable of occurring in the world I know back home.
We helped load the three boards (two 8’ and one 9’) onto our converted fishing boat. The boats construction is worth noting. It’s basically a canoe with a long, narrow frame and flat board benches for sitting but has the addition of two outriggers, one on either side of the boat. For those of you familiar with outrigger canoes that are so popular in Hawaii, these boats look like larger versions of an outrigger canoe with two of the arm-like extensions that provide balance for such a narrow hulled boat. Our boat had a large outboard motor powering us along. Our “captain” was a young local boy who said little. His tanned skin and taunt muscles attested to his experience on the waters.
So imagine, if you will, a cove which is fairly broad but whose mouth is relatively narrow. It is almost completely enclosed by the aged hills that must have once boasted dramatic cliffs and points. What now remains after time and tide has taken their toll are softer hills with the occasional lingering evidence of a majestic drop or cliff face.
The cove is enough to create several ideal breaks along its broad shorelines and dramatic points. Our little boat, its paint faded but still bright in the morning sun, cuts a path across first the stagnant green water of the shallow harbor and then into the deepening green-blue of the cove. As we cruise along, the wind in our faces and the land at our backs, the whole world glimmers with natural brightness and the anticipation of doing something old in a place so incredibly new to us.
We glide along the back of the break we will be surfing. It’s a long break just over the top of a reef and as we join the two or three boats already anchored near the break we watch the break take shape. Watching a wave, any wave, is an amazing thing. Few things in this world can compare to the grace and form of a wave’s natural arch. Be it 30 feet or 30 inches, the face of a wave has the impressive ability to move while move and to push and pull simultaneously. I could watch the waves all day but to watch a wave with the knowledge that you plan on riding that wave changes the perspective entirely. It becomes a study, an examination. That wave is both friend and foe and you see it as such. Suddenly it’s not only grace and power but the location of the break, the type of wave, and the force behind it. This is a wave you want to know – not just watch from afar. It’s the difference between watching a horse in a pasture and approaching a horse with a saddle in a corral.
I’m certainly no surfing goddess or expert just a humble follower of the sea and any excuse to be closer to the ocean is a good excuse for me. You simply don’t get much closer than surfing. I don’t desire dramatic drop-ins or epic rides but I am addicted to the feeling of the ocean picking up my board and allowing me to ride her waves for a few seconds. So when I hopped off the boat and onto the 9’ monster board I was simply praying for a couple of good waves. What I got was a few hours of answered prayers.
We paddled out and joined the small mass of people already waiting for the wave. Surfing offers the unique chance to paddle up between an athlete that is 10 times better than you and an athlete that is just getting started. And each of them is waiting on the exact same thing – the next good ride.
For over an hour and a half we shared the water with a handful of surfers on a perfectly sunny day. That break gave me some great rides. The nice thing about a 9’ monster board is that it can catch any wave from a ripple to a ripper. I rode big waves (for me) and small ones. I drank greedily from the cup offered to me – taking any wave at first and loving them all. Remember as little kid when your dad would grab your hands and spin you around like a helicopter? Surfing has that same timeless joy. It is a joy brought from a movement so effortless that you have to hang on to it to keep it – and that makes the ride worthwhile. And just like a little kid the moment the wave releases me, I’m jumping right back on my board and paddling out as if saying “More more more! I want to do it again – just one more time!”
And that joy spreads from face to face on the wave. Emotions are written clearly on each face: the concentration of riding, the elation afterwards, the disappointment when you miss a good wave. Each face tells a story. I love watching Desirae and Lisa. Lisa with her ever-present smile broadening to encompass her whole face, her body bent in concentration then easing into the ride. Desirae looking intense when dropping in then a childlike grin creeping up from her toes and taking the rest of her body with her body with it. These are moments of joy that carry a sense of purity – you are taking nothing from the ocean and giving only yourself in return. You and the ocean – the giver and the gift – are in unity if only for a few lingering seconds. It is an undeniable peace, an unexplainable comfort.
After a couple of hours it got crowded. A group of Swedish chicks in a surf school showed up wearing helmets and hogging the waves. The locals crowded in and the peace was shattered but it’s affects remained and on the boat ride back, now facing land and the heat of the day, we all wore smiles that would linger like the last waves at sunset. All was well…

And so the story continues. I should wrap Indonesia up in a week or so and then I'll take you on to Malaysia. Time keeps speeding up and up...I wish someone would tell me how to slow it down a little! I hope this finds all of you happy and healthy. I miss you and love you all. Take care!

Love from the road...