Not one but two planes full of passengers struggling to stifle coughs and sneezes accompanied with my ever worsening hangover, thanks Kevin, and all too short a nights sleep I finally arrive in Padang, Sumatra.
We so often take our planned, well signed, secure airports for granted, this journey involved a lot of following my nose from check in desk to check in desk to departures, arrivals, check in again and then departures again! You certainly had to guess, hope you’re right, and simply go with the flow – but hey that’s what travelling is all about. I just wish I didn’t have three surfboards in tow!
The pointy roofs of Sumatra airport rekindle memories of my last visit in 2003, but wow, I’m sure no 737 jets flew here back then, how Indonesia has grown.
So, the Mentawai’s. Long been held as surfing’s Mecca I was scared and excited all at the same time!
Our boat, well I say our ‘boat’ it was a 110ft 4 mast schooner was promising a rather characterful end to my year’s journey. Unfortunately just as my timing would have it had become stricken with a broken rudder we were to be upgraded to an aluminium catamaran that at first look rather closely resembled the Manly Fast Ferry painted yellow. I mean come ON! Seriously!
So here I am sitting in the shade on the tropically thick bladed grass of Padang Airport waiting to meet the first of my soon to be close companions, nay shipmates, for the next 12 days; enter stage left LA Fireman, San Diego ripper, Greg Drude!
We hop in the hot taxi and whilst desperately praying for the AC to kick in and eating some fried chicken, it turns out this is his 23rd trip out here and although he too was a little bit gutted about the boat swap he quickly explained the legend of our new Skipper: Moose. He then elaborated this with the advantages of the quicker new boat, and that Jordy Smith will be staying on it after we leave, things were beginning nicely. This was after all a surf trip and well let’s face it who needs romance and character on that, just surf, comfort and a Captain who knew were to find both.
So we head into a hotel near the harbour to meet our other shipmates. Bang; eight Australians from Cronulla who, having been waiting since 11am (it was now 3pm) where already three, four, sheets to the wind! If first impressions count I was in for a voyage.
At times like these I always hark back to a wise saying: “if you can’t beat em, join em!”
This was going to be an Epic.
There she was, Crystal Clear, moored confidently to a rather ramshackle wooden pier. Sparkling freshly new in the streetlights. She had no idea the havoc 10 men were about to set upon her; beer, skin, blood and betadine where all to stain her decks.
With all safely on board (mercilessly out boards and bags had been already taken on board by the crew and stowed away) we cast off to gently chug down the river to the open ocean. On our way down the brown river houses banked steeply up on our left which, despite the hour, still had cocks crowing and dogs barking anonymously in the darkness. The right hand bank I simply failed to notice with my attention completely caught by this vertiginous ‘Riverdell’.
So, to sea, and to the sun deck to watch the sun set over the ever retreating port of Padang, make friends and begin our 14 beers/day quota!
If you’ve never slept on the open ocean (ferries don’t count) it is an experience to savour, provided it’s not a full blown Force 4 gale, the gentle rocking of the swell accompanied by the throbbing diesel engine is calmly soporific whilst the gurgling, cascading water makes you need the loo, Bintang driven, every time you are disturbed. Yet even this, requiring you to go on deck, affronts you with an infinity of darkness that allows you to confront isolation in safety, well that bit of worry belongs to Captain Moose!
Our alarm clock was a sound we were to soon become accustomed to; the chain of the anchor being lifted. The sound reverberated through the metal hull with what can only be described as tank track coming loose – whatever that may sound like – it was loud and obnoxious – I will have to record it for my personal use.
A quick ‘snooze’ button later and the reverse noise is heard only more violently as the anchor is dropped and looking out of my oblong porthole I’m greeted by dawn over tropical islands and peeling turquoise right hand waves – we were finally at Mecca, Mentawai’s, and more specifically Hollow Trees.
HT’s so named due to a hollow tree that used to live on the reef, now submerged due to ever rising water levels – pause for thought; how long will these islands be around – is a brilliant barrelling right over some pretty nasty reef.
The boys jump in without hesitation, I have a momentary freak out; I’ve got to hassle with 20+ guys to paddle for a precipitous take off directly into a barrel over shallow reef to maybe, probably not in my case, emerge victorious on the other side, f*ck the warm crystal clear water I’m staying on the boat!
Moose to the rescue; after a few well chosen discussions and verbal introductions about the wave we paddled out together to sit ‘wide’ and be patient.
Holy shit some of the things people were paddling for, getting smashed, completely the appropriate word here, dragged onto the reef and then having to paddle back out and round. My courage was draining away until Moose again coming to the rescue called me into a couple of small ones, my confidence was building, kind of! I think it’s time for breakfast and to apply more suncream/allow my heart rate to return to normal.
Second session saw me remain sitting wide but when a big sweeper of a bomb came there was nothing for it; now or never, put your head down and paddle like a daemon possesed…
YEW! That’s the one, guys on the boat screaming, wind, speed, water all swirling around me – split second wrong decision, I wish I’d known/understood what the wave was doing behind me, I make for the top of the wave to make sure I can get the hell of there, bad decision, the wave bites my board and drags it up into the lip from under my feet, pitching me, speed wind etc face first into the turquoise concrete.
“Ouch! It’s ok” I say as I come up for air surprisingly only moments later. After my experience in Guatemala, I feel around and know it’s nowhere near as bad, until, hang on, whilst I paddle hard face down to get out of the impact zone, what’s that dripping muddy crimson?
Hmm, paddle swiftly to the boat I think, see what this is. As I climb up asking, what’s all this, no one seems too concerned, then I lift my chin and I’m greeted by “oos” and “don’t worry Moose can stitch that up”. Really! What have I done? I can’t see a thing! Anyhow, I received the best medical care on the best surgeons table; the top deck of a gently swaying boat, bathed in sunshine, and five stitches. That’s my trip ruined in the first day I thought, the stitches in Guatemala had me out of the water for 7 days, but no, 24hrs later I was paddling, albeit very nervously out again into the lineup!
By the end of the first day we had: a shoulder pop out and be put back, more than a few get dragged across the reef and enjoy the ‘Betadine experience’ another shoulder almost tear and most importantly egos humbled.
Not much can be said about the evenings other than good food, relaxation and these Craig David loving Cronulla Cats! What can possibly be said about them, from teaching me how to shotgun a beer to momentous discussions on astrology and life! I have to say they absolutely made my voyage overwhelmingly memorable – despite a certain effort to drag me back into drinking at 2am whilst I was on deck, in my pants, having a piss! They made me miss the country I had abandoned all too soon. Join them I did, regret it I did not.
The rapid duh de duh de duh de duh de drops the anchor. A quick spy out my porthole and we are at another idyllic spot, turquoise waters, clear sky’s and peeling – a bit smaller – waves. Hungover? Definitely but I’m out the water this session allowing me to take in the full glory of where we are and the frothing faces that are on continuous rotation from the break to the boat and back again! This is the dream, as Adam asked me whilst I stand on the bow arms wide hoping no one was watching: “enjoying life Kinder?” Hell yes!
To say this became a tropical routine surfing paradise punctuated only by bigger waves, bigger barrels, more cuts and betadine! But really that’s what it became.
An overnight trip complete with two fresh ‘Spanish Mackerel like’ fish catches producing fresh sashimi, once the fish had been put in the freezer to reduce its tropical sea temperature flesh, we arrive at the southern group of islands and the wave magnet Thunders. Rumble the waves did, barrel spit and scare me they did. We were moored right alongside the break with its peeling spitting barrels shooting straight at us. From here we experienced the full opera of surfing watching shattering tragedies and glorious triumphs as many a great wave was made and lost. This is difficult to beat.
We powered back up the islands to Macaronis and wow what a fun wave. It proved shallow but mechanically persistent allowing me to actually believe I might be ok at this surfing malarkey!
Then oh, how humbled I was when we went that afternoon to Greenbush. This spitting wide barrel broke straight onto shallow sharp reef and only the brave decided to challenge its all enveloping allure. I stayed on the boat and took pictures whilst sipping a Bintang.
Thankfully, many evening shotguns later, we arrived back where we began at Lances Left, soon to be my nemesis due to being washed up onto the reef – I got greedy – and smashed onto the reef – bad wave choice.
I paddled out at day break all alone, determined to get in a few before the boys arrived. Armed with a few landmarks from veteran Greg I made for the ‘peak’. I must have sat there for almost an hour trying to get a wave till the others got dropped off by boat and paddled to a spot much further in and across from me and started catching nice long rides! DAMN. You never realise how much you need fellow surfers crowding a break until it’s too late!
Now, how many beers were left, 19 each to do in one night remaining, WHAT? Surely we were drinking more than that, well at least the vodka was gone.
We never even came close to finishing the quota and I was left alone on the bow deck staring out at the invisible black horizon, encircled by stars, ruminating about not just the last few days but the whole year past and the years future. This was a fitting finale.
Our bodies broken we all parted great friends having shared a very unique experience. I returned to Uluwatu to surf the mythical break, realise my body couldn’t handle anymore surfing and simply collapsed.
How fitting then that my adventures should start and end with a solid friend, Kevin. There at the start when we met in Popoyo, Nicaragua, in the middle, Manly, Australia, and now at the end in Canggu, Bali. This is quite possibly, hopefully, just the beginning of the next chapter. Thank you to everyone i have met along the way and those I am still yet to meet, good luck to you all, i’m sure I will see you all again.
Kinder
P.S. The first things that have hit me, other than the cold, upon landing in UK;
- British birdsong, which has an almost light and jolly sound to it.
- Freshly cut wet grass
- Good quality toilet paper!
LSC Surfy Bit
Not much more can be said about the Mentawai’s. This is no place for the fainthearted, no sand here, just reef and more reef, but the waves are so good and SO fun your surfing capability and confidence will double.
I won’t go into the detail of every break because if you go it’s more than likely going to be by a surf charter boat that will take you to the right places at the right time. I would say, don’t be afraid to ask the captain for any details; currents, shallow reef, best looking angle/peak of wave to catch etc. they are an often underused resource.
I went with Moose on Crystal Clear which being a catamaran was much more roomy, stable and fast enabling potential for surfing breaks alone.
The Pelagius is the most expensive, followed by Additcion (from the Young Guns surf film with a helicopter on the back, pre drones) but I also had many a great line up chat with Captain Tommy of the brand new Indosato and would highly recommend him – despite his mick taking of there actually being a London Surf Club!
Kit wise, see photo, but invaluable items were painkillers, ibuleve, Betadine, and the amazing Rip Curl Pocket Reef Boots.
Uluwatu
I don’t need to say a thing here. You should have read all about it before you get here from Gerry Lopez and crew pioneering it back in the 70’s to the modern day wedding paradise, mushroom taking, drinking mayhem it has become.
Suffice to say the cauldron cave paddle out/in to the low tide reef barrels this break is in the tick list for a reason.