Photo: @ aqua_lens
I met Josh and Brody in the water at Balangan. They told me they were visiting Bali for the week from the Gold Coast and we instantly hit it off. We talked as we waited for waves and my first impression was that these were good people. Little did I know we would become fast mates. We split after that but ran into each other again during the sunset session. They said they were heading to the east side the next day and invited me along for the ride—and you should always take a free ride when traveling.
We met up at 5:00 a.m. with the intention of going to Keramas but first stopped to check Choo Choo Cunts (name to be explained) at our driver’s suggestion and, honestly, I was a bit disappointed because it seemed small. Then, as we walked down the beach to paddle out, it started to turn ON. Turns out that spot loves the mid-to-high tide and this one was filling in fast. Classic Indo waves, the type I had seen for years in videos and magazines, came to life. We picked a peak in between two groups of guys and began to feel it out, cautiously at first, thanks to the sharp-ass reef and shallow water. In hindsight, we should have gone to the peak just up the reef where it was slightly bigger and we watched a dude (The Barrel Hunter) get tube after tube of six to eight-foot perfection.
Our minds were blown and our trepidation subsided. The peak we were on was kind of an in-betweener that was shorter than the waves up and down the reef…but we did have it to ourselves. Your boy was hyped. His boys were hyped. The hype was real.
One from Day 1…As you can see on my face, the hype was real. Photo: @ aqua_lens
Then, everything changed when the lone babe (who was quite a babe) was chewed out by some kooky local. She had just dropped in on a guy who didn’t bother to hoot or holler to let her know he was there. Even then it was mellow, no one got hurt or even tangled. Nevertheless, local went nut and threw a fit. He started screaming at her in a mix of languages which made the whole scene even weirder. Somebody even interjected to defend her and explain it was an accident. He just kept thrashing his arms around anyway, yelling “OUT OUT OUT!” like an angry child whose toy was just taken away.
His childish ire wasn’t reserved to hero dude and the babe. Six people were sent in screaming at anyone associated with them, including a photographer. Turns out they were running a surf school so, in addition to chief kook, he had two other friends helping him “teach” two Japanese guys and one tatted up American. The boys and I were pretty irate about the scene but there wasn’t much we could do. They knew how to surf but they were essentially paying local heavies for protection and to get pushed into waves. Apparently, this is an issue at Keramas. You can’t support shit like that. But karma is real, and once they’ve actually learned how to paddle into a wave and stop paying for protection, they too will be on the other end of the blade. This is why I’m forever calling that wave Choo Choo Cunts…
The next day was more of the same but very different. As in, same conditions and a different, spectacular vibe. We rocked up to a quasi-flat looking sea knowing the swell was still on and would improve with the incoming tide. So we waxed up, lathered our faces in zinc, and made our way to the point. There were only three guys out, including the barrel hunter I had seen the previous day. He was an older Aussie bloke who could really rip. I’d seen him pull into tube after tube the day before and this day was no different. He and the other two surfers didn’t seem to mind when we paddled out and literally doubled the size of the crowd. The waves and sets were a bit slow at first but they were definitely there and we were all catching fun rides without any aggression or angst.
As the tide filled in, the waves really started to get good — not quite as large as the day before but still solidly head high. Bits of chit-chat in between sets solidified the fact that we were all there to have a good time. There was an unspoken bond amongst us who had been out there for the past hour, we would even forgo our position-based right of away if one of the homies down the line had been without a wave for a few sets.
Slowly, the group grew and Frenchy, Justin (the only other American), and a photographer joined us. They too were riding high on the conditions and contributed to the frothy vibe. Like pigs in the mud, we were stoked. Even as another crew of dudes from Japan joined the fray, we stayed high because there were plenty of waves to go around.
And then came the peak of the session.
After one particularly rad wave, I watched Frenchy take off on an absolute bomb with the entire lineup cheering for him. He was out the back when he saw it and quickly turned, paddled, and kept his head down as he put his heart into each stroke. Everyone else was on the inside shouting “GO! GO! GO! GO!” The wave doubled up as he was midway up the face. He realized he was in and fully sent it with his last few paddles. He popped to his feet just as it came to a crest and was staring down the face of an Indonesian beauty. It wasn’t an air-drop but it was damn close, gliding down to the bottom of what was nearly a 12-foot face. He then bottom turned like a boss and set himself up in front of a heaving barrel. I lost sight of him as I went over the shoulder, but not before I saw him tuck into pit. Wave of the day.
Frenchy, enjoying the wave of the day. Photo: @ aqua_lens
I too had many rides that made my heart pump and my smile light up like the sun that day — one of them a late drop on an inside wave that set me up for one helluva ride. I pulled hard on my rail and fully leaned into the wave as I came skimming down the face. Once I reached the bottom I let go of my board and stood up ever so slightly to pump off my back foot, propelling myself right into the pit. It stretched out in front of me like a slithering snake and I pumped and pumped until emerging back into the blinding equatorial sun, able to stand up tall again. I kicked out the back and ran my hand through my hair, claiming it like a cool guy. That memory is seared into my adrenal glands.
So that, my friends, is a tale of two sessions. What’s the moral of the story? Simple. When you’re in the water or on land be respectful and have fun. All too often we get caught up in the rat race of me, me, me, me. Don’t pay locals to block for you just because you don’t know how to surf. Don’t be a hog. Don’t be a dick, basically.
We all need to be more like Gerry (Lopez) and treat life like an anti-contest. If we don’t get too greedy, there is usually plenty to go around. In surfing, we are privy to an unusual phenomenon in sports (well, if surfing is even a sport?) in that you can get just as much pleasure seeing your buddy, or even an absolute stranger, catch a beautiful ride that pushes their limits, as you can riding one yourself.
