This is a little story about taking a chance on the "swell of the season." I'd much rather head out on a feral mission looking for a new waves throughout this very over-surfed archipelago rather than going to those well-trodden Indonesian wave areas.
However, due to the choices I have made, I write this while we are stuck in what feels like the middle of the Indian Ocean in howling tradewinds, with no chance of getting anywhere near the island we wanted to check out. The state of the ocean and the pre-mentioned swell is upon us. But how I got us into this predicament is a long story...
It started in South Africa a few months earlier with our discovery of a new wave; me getting barreled and ultimately winning an online event called the Oakley One Wave Wonder -- a contest that had everyone sending in their video clips from over five months and the best wave won $15,000. It also included a trip to G-Land for the filmer, who just happened to be my girlfriend.
However, once in Bali, our planned trip to G-Land quickly took a back seat thanks to the swell charts showing somewhere else being better, which tends to happen. Also a chance meeting with photographer Brad Masters had us changing our plans from a week in luxurious G-Land to a feral boat trip heading to one of the most remote areas in Indonesia. And before we knew it, we were headed into the jungle with a string of a plan -- get to the area, find a fishing boat and head into the unknown.
A couple of flights and a long six-hour bemo ride later and we came to the small port that was to be our last taste of land for the next 10 days. Brad somehow managed to find us a "seaworthy" boat (and I use this term lightly). I've never been on an expensive charter boat so I don't really have anything to judge it against. But I would guess that if you are planning to head 60 miles off the coast, a boat should at least have a radio, some kind of safety equipment, a fire extinguisher, not stink of benzine, not be cracked along a big portion of the hull and do more than four-knots in good seas.
In the end, it was what it was and we cast off for our initial 12-hour sail to what we hoped would be some kind of out-of-the-way discovery. From the start, we knew it wasn't going to be that easy because as we left the harbor we were buffeted by 30-knot winds and huge seas. Soon, the tranquil 12-hour sail turned into 24-hours of hell. By the time we finally limped into view of the island, the captain refused to take us close enough to see any kind of waves.
Seasickness and tension had gripped us and the crew, with the lone female of our group taking the worst of it. All I could do was apologize and hope for the best at the next set of islands another 16 hours to the north. Our only respite was that we could now turn downwind and not have to endure the head-on buffeting of the previous day's travel. Unfortunately, once we arrived at the new islands (we actually could get close enough to check the waves this time), they were cut to pieces by the wind. We did, however, manage to find some kind of half-decent mooring for the night and grabbed our first bit of sleep in a few days.
By now our options where running low -- the first swell had passed without even getting to surf, so we decided to keep heading north with the wind to a larger set of islands where a large bay would turn the still-pumping onshore winds offshore. The second planned swell was supposed to show up a few days later and we had no idea when and how it was coming as all our communications had been cut off. But in the end, we had no choice and again set off on another 12-hour open-ocean crossing.
After almost three days of constant sailing in some of the worst conditions the ocean could throw at us, we finally rounded the corner of a bay and were greeted by a very pleasant little lefthander where we could wash off the dirt and grime of the fishing boat in some fun three-foot barrels. It felt like I hadn't surfed for months and it was so good to get some fun warm water waves. Thankfully, we surfed all day even though the conditions were poor by Indo standards.
The next day, we puttered up the coast sniffing around each bay looking for a fabled righthander that would be offshore in this unseasonal wind. We saw it at dusk the night before the swell was supposed to arrive and knew we had struck gold. In the morning, we were greeted by the most perfect four-foot barrels anyone could hope for. The wave would start with a slabbing, double-up takeoff and then taper off into a friendly channel. As Brad said, "It's like HT's but all to ourselves, bru." And the slabbing left on the other side of the bay was even better. It worked in the afternoon winds, as did the big, long, rolling wave off the island, outside the bay.
For four days, we stayed in the area and gorged ourselves on the Indonesian dream without another soul in sight until, once again, it was time to pull anchor and head north to the port of our departure, which meant heading into the open ocean for one final 24-hour crossing.
Let's just say my relationship with my girlfriend was at an all-time low by the time we limped into the harbor. And, of course, I was heading to G-Land for a week whether the swell was two-foot or twelve. But just my luck, it was more on the larger side.