A Barney in Bali--Day 10 (double sesh), 17JUNE2011 FRI

Secret Spot (SS) #1:

    Surprisingly, there’s no wind, and it’s almost noon. It’s just like the day we surfed Nusa Dua, but Randy says that the well there will be too big for me, so we can’t surf there. It’s a little disappointing, but drowning is disappointing too, so I trust his judgment.

    He says that the same spot we checked out yesterday might be good because, there’s no wind, there’s a good swell right now, and since it’s not getting the swell head on I should be able to manage. But there’s one major factor: the tide. It’s a full moon, so the high tide will start draining fast which will make conditions change drastically.

    We take a short break, eat a small meal, and we’re on the road again. My brother wears a face mask. Blazing through traffic, I feel dust particles crunching between my teeth. Good call on the mask, I think to myself. It’s a long ride, and my ass is fricken’ sore. We reach gridlock, my bro’s a little aggro from some car that cut off the shoulder that all the bikes use.

    We get to one secret spot, but the tide is still high. We notice a couple peaks that are working, but it’s only two feet. We pull up to SS #1. Yesterday there was nothing, today there are only two guys on it. I sense the urgency in my brother’s voice. He sounds like me as I’m suiting up to surf Trestles.

    “Ohhh shit! There’s only two guys on it!” He says as he struggles to put the kickstand down faster than his mind allows. As I try to get a glimpse of the peak, he’s already changed and putting wax on his board.

    “I’m not waiting for you,” he says. “We gotta get on it, we gotta catch this window!”

    I put wax on my board. “It’s melting,” I say. I turn around. I’m talking to myself. I catch up with him on the sand. There’s a chick in a pink bikini with her boyfriend in the line up and two other guys watching from shore.

    Randy walks up and says, “Fuck, the wind just went onshore, but look! Backhand barrels!”

    I see the wave going; it‘s a right hander. It‘s probably only three feet, but the water cascades down over the shoulder, leaving a hollow pocket to tuck into.

    “All right,” he says. “I don’t know where to paddle out, this is my first time surfing here. I’m paddling out right here; I’ll meet you out there.”

    He jumps in the water while I do my presurf ritual. I sink into deep water the second I step in, similar to Torrance Beach. On the paddle out I notice that I’m paddling over some rocks. There looks like at least three feet of clearance, or so I hope.

    The guy in the water catches a right hander all the way to the channel. The spot is just one right, but it’s so secluded. Nowadays, to surf a spot in Bali with good conditions, and to only have two other people as “the crowd” is a goldmine. The guy passes me as he paddles back. He smiles, I say, “Hi,” and I feel refreshed with the positive environment. My brother is even talking to the pink bikini chic about how secluded the spot is.

    I paddle for a wave on the outside, Randy has good position, he lets me have it, I scratch out. He paddles past me, says that he missed the wave because he thought I had it, and he goes to the peak.

    A wave forms towards the inside, I paddle and catch it right where it’s breaking. Even though it’s only three feet, it’s a pitchy three feet that stands up fast. I survive the drop. Once I realize that I’m not eating shit, I pull off a satisfactory top turn, reenter the pocket for speed, and pump down the line. The wave isn’t hollow, but it’s my best wave in a couple days. I look down and see that I’m over the rocks. Fuckin’ rocks . . . always, I swear. I bail out over the lip in hopes to avoid the reef.

    It isn’t the redeemer wave but a much needed wave, and that‘s enough to bring back some stoke. The two guys on the shore earlier are now paddling out. Randy’s gets a wave, and the surfing couple watches to see what he does.

    There’s now five people in the line up, and that’s still thin company. I paddle more south, away from Randy. He waves me over to go come back. He says, “You’re going too deep in the peak, you’re gonna get caught on the inside.”

    Has my brother’s advice ever let me down? I can be hard headed sometimes. My other surf mentor Rick A., has given me advice that I went against, which resulted in me backtracking and following his words. So when it comes to people that have way more experience in the water, you listen.

    There’s a bump in the distance, a small one, but I’m in the perfect position to catch it right on the peak. I do, but I’m behind it. I caught it where my brother told me not to, and the section closes in front of me. Under the water, my right ass cheek hit’s a rock. Here we go again. Since we’ve been there, the tide is already lower and still sucking out even more. I’m over two feet of water. I look in the distance and see that I caught the first tiny wave that is bringing in the rest of the set. Fuck my ass. Yes, only three feet, but as I said, the waves really stand up as they break. I prepare for the first hit, I duckdive, too shallow, I get washed around and feel the rocks on my back. I struggle to get to deeper water, the next wave comes, someone’s on it, I paddle towards the broken section to take my beatings, and I’m washed around again. This time the chick is on the next wave. She draws eye contact with me as I’m paddling. I’m looking like the deer in the headlights. The look she gives me is a look of concern. She is charging, while I’m stuck on the inside: FAIL. Randy keeps looking back to see if I’m alive. I smile at him, but it’s a “WTF smile.”

    On the wave, I thought that I was at least a little bit towards the channel because I was after all on a “right.” Fuckin’ A, my brother was right. I didn’t go against his advice, but I obliviously drifted where he told me not to go; I wasn’t paying attention, and now . . . I pay.

    The peak is getting closer and closer. Finally, I duckdive a wave in deeper water. Like so many other times on this trip, I’m embarrassed. No one is as Barnier as I. I catch my breath and remind myself to let go of the ego. I tell myself that I suck, and I accept it. I grab my balls and paddle closer to the channel.

    The Aussies are tearing these waves up. I have perfect view of the drop and the first section. The are regular footers, so they gain a lot of momentum and make the wave look easy on their front side.

    Two of the Aussies are paddling back to the line up when I try to catch what looks like a small wave. It jacks up again once it hit’s the shelf, it jacks up, I fight the pitch by leaning back and grabbing rail . . . explosion . . . I’m underwater. Adding insult to previous injuries, I wipeout with an audience.

    I realize two things. One, wiping out in front of a few people is worse than wiping out in front of a lot. At least when there’s a lot of people, you can get lost in the crowd, and there’s a chance of more people wiping out as well. Two, I never eat this much shit in California. I actually got to the point where I barely fell, where falling would be a rarity for the session. Maybe only once or twice. Out here . . . I’ve been eating a lot of shit.

    Randy paddles up to me and says that I should get out of the water because it’s getting to shallow on the inside. I concur. I paddle even more near the channel and catch one as far as it will take me. Now I’m in barely a foot of water. The surfer couple are leaving as well.

I know I'm a dork, but I'm happy right here.

    As we are packing up to go, Randy can’t keep his eyes off the spot. I’ve never seen him this stoked over a surf session since I’ve been here. He even gives me the Balinese handshake, so I know he’s happy.

    We have a post surf lunch at an Indian and Malaysian warung. We splurge buying two dishes each, cold tea, and Sumatra juice drinks.

    Over dinner he tells me that he’s been trying to escape the crowds, and now he may have found the place. He’s stoked.

    He says, “I don’t care about surfing ‘the premier’ wave over here. If I can find a good wave that I can have all to myself, I’m happy.”

    I’m happy with the day’s adventures. I surfed two new spots, and in complete opposite conditions. Even though I had a rough time at SS #1, I still got that first good right and had fun despite the reef incident. The splurging at the restaurant was the cherry on top; it only costs us $10 total. Today was the kind of adventure that I had hoped for. But the ride was long, and my ass still hurts.