A Barney in Bali--Day 11, 18JUNE2011 SAT

Sunrise over Tugu

Tugu Round 2:

    It’s 0511, and I notice the light on outside my room. Randy’s up. As I flick the bathroom light on, my body’s telling me something. Despite seven hours of solid sleep, I’m still tired. My back muscles are aching; I’m surf worn. I brush my teeth, do my warm ups, and join Randy for tea. We converse about memories of our grandfather, and how the sound of tea being stirred in the early morning, while everyone’s a sleep, brings back memories of him.

    We discuss yesterday’s fortunes and how that will play out today. We aim for a short session at Canggu, and then another gamble on SS #1 if the winds are right.

    In the darkness, we hit the road. Over the past 10 days I’ve gotten quite comfortable on the back of the bike. I’m not tensing or clenching as much and actually enjoy the straightaways where we’re at full speed with the wind against us.

    Yesterday’s swell forecast was actually thirteen feet, and today it goes down just a little. The past couple mornings have been low tide mornings, and Canggu doesn’t do well on a low tide. The only break working is the sand bar, but the inside looks really washy. We can see the north end of Tugu which has a left that is holding shape pretty well. We adjust fire and change locations.

    Randy chooses to surf the inside again, so I start my long paddle out to the line up. I pass up clean right handers that peel away towards the inside. The waves on the outside break and reform, which turn into the waves that my brother rides. It takes a while and a series of duckdives, but I make it. Yesterday morning I surfed a different peak to my south. This morning is less crowded with mostly novices at my level or a little lower.

    The size is down just a hair, but the shape looks cleaner. I take my first left which closes out after a couple pumps. My second wave doesn’t let me down. It’s head high. The peak is lined and walled for the right, but there’s a well defined left hand shoulder at the end of it; I’m in perfect position for it. It’s a steep drop, but I start pumping my board at mid face to keep up with the wave. The section in front of me starts to close. I draw another high line just under the feathering lip, rebound, and move down the line as fast as I have so far on this trip. Two guys are on the shoulder seeing if I make the section. I do, so they back off. I’m so stoked. I’m on a wave that will potentially take me all the way to the channel, the longest ride ever awaits me. I set up to move down the face and into the pocket for a bottom turn, when I see some fucking guy paddling out, right in my fucking path. I’m moving so fast, and I really need to get in the pocket because I want to set up for a bottom turn. I have no choice but to jump off my board. The breaking section that I successfully passed, now consumes me as I go down in a roar of whitewash. I resurface, and the guy’s behind me; he ditched his board.

    He says something, some kind of apology that I can’t hear over the overwhelming fizz of foam.

    “Are you all right?” I ask.

    He nods his head as if to say yes. He’s not getting on his board. I wait until he’s on it and returns a thumbs up.

    Back at the line up, I know I won’t get another one like that. That wave was worth more than one session, it would’ve made up for all my foibles that I’ve had thus far on this trip. But it did feel good going front side on a big wave, pumping, racing, and choosing good lines to make it out to the shoulder. I killed the aggro attitude and approached the guy in kindness; I know he didn’t mean it. How many times have you been paddling out to see some guy drawing a straight line to your ass? The paddling dance begins. I paddle for some smaller waves, scratch out, turn around, and rogue waves are way on the outside. I paddle back out to beat them, miss them completely, and the water goes flat into lulls. I catch another left, but incomparable to the previous.

Hard to tell, but there's rain.

     My session’s just over an hour, so I catch a shoulder high right back to shore. That epic ride, cut short, haunts me. There’s a patch of dark clouds, it‘s drizzling, and a rainbow appears over the ocean as my brother catches his last wave.

    We ride home, do some grocery shopping at Bali’s version of K Mart, and do take-out from a Javanese restaurant. I feel nervous ordering. I look for anything that I can identify; I recognize nothing. I point, point, and point, until the leaf wrapped dish is full. It’s heavy, costs me three dollars, and tastes delicious.

Javanese food, $3.

    Unfortunately, the wind isn’t dead like yesterday, and the tide’s low again just before sunset. Tomorrow will be the next session.