A Barney in Bali--Day 15 (double sesh), 22JUNE2011 WED

Pre Blog:


    Due to yesterday’s very long and draining day, and today’s long morning, I am only recalling yesterday’s double session right now. This won’t be as descriptive. I am tired, it’s 2113, I’m wired on Bali coffee, and details are getting blurry. Power to the penis.

Balangan Rd #4:



    I write in my journal as the sets still approach. There are still waves, but nearly half of the morning surfers are gone or chowing down. I was mistaken when I said there were four warungs on the beach front; there are close to ten. Some of them even have accommodations. Meager, but traveling surfers don’t need much.

    Randy and Jessica are chillin’ on their beach chairs, while I sit in the warung. Randy turns around to point out a set or the barrels every few minutes. It’s hard to concentrate. I’ve always had problems keeping my eyes off of the ocean when I’m right in front of it, especially out here.

    Randy tells me he’s going out in about a half hour, while I’m still feeling Froggy’s club sandwich only half digested. The time comes, and Randy chooses to paddle out right in front of the second point. Some of the sets are still macking, and I’m like, Fuck that, I’m paddling out at the fuckin’ channel. I turn to Jessica and tell her that I’m taking the coward’s paddle out. Literally, Randy and I walk off in different directions. The tide is a bit higher which makes the reef dance shorter. It’s a fucking miracle (as you’ve noticed, this trip is full of miracles, Barney miracles). I make it out past the waves without getting violated. It’s a longer paddle to the lineup, but I’d rather paddle longer than go through the grinder. I look ahead of me, and I’m surprised to see that Randy is still on the inside battling the sets. Either way, he punches through and sits for a wave while I still have a distance to paddle.

    Randy and I are separated for most of the session. He knows I am feeling more comfortable, so he goes off barrel hunting. I, on the other hand, am starting off the same way as the morning session. I’m scratching out again. It takes a while for me to get a wave. I catch two, but the sections are so fast that I get shut out by the lip.

    On a good note, it occurs to me that I haven’t been wiping out at Balangan (not counting getting bashed by the lip). Since I’ve been trying to choose my waves smarter and really committing myself on the drop, it’s a good sign. Or maybe, it could mean that I’m surfing too safe. Should I be trying to pull into the barrel by now?

    So I have a couple short rides under my belt for the afternoon session; I’m unsatisfied. Once again, it’s not a wave buffet, but I look for the last wave or “thee wave” to put a lid on the day. I hate to sound redundant, but this is true, and I’m not lying. I’m in position for another freak wave, I catch it, it’s long, and shouldery, just like my waves in the morning. The difference is that the wave’s a little smaller, and because it is smaller, I actually practice my turns. My cutbacks aren’t pretty, but I do my best to get some arching top turns, and then I redirect my board in the pocket. I get three turns on the wave. They feel good but probably look sloppy. I catch the wave until it dissolves to a mere couple feet. I search for the reef. I don’t see it, but I kick out anyway. The belly ride back to shore feels triumphant. I can’t explain the accomplishment I feel from ending the session with an awesome ride. It just takes away any prior negativity that happens, and I’m only left with that stoke.

    I say wassup to Jess and Jaya. Jaya wants me to pick him up, but I’m all salty and sticky. When I dry off, I pick Jaya up, and Froggy comes over and makes him laugh. There’s something about the Balinese: they believe babies are closer to God, and they give Jaya the utmost attention every time I’ve seen him amongst people. Randy takes another solid twenty minutes before he paddles in. By now Jessica’s getting a little red, Jaya’s probably ready to go home, and Randy and I are completely exhausted.

Exhausted. . . .

 

    We gather our things and meet the driver at the top of the hill. Since we’re in a van, we’re at the traffic’s mercy. We pass through some village celebrations and get glimpses at some temples. Randy and I go back to the same Indonesian restaurant that we ate at a couple nights ago. I order the goat . . . delicious. We all rack out early. What a day.