A Barney in Bali--Day 16, 23JUNE2011 THU

  
    When I was a freshman at Lahainaluna High School, this huge Hawaiian guy overheard that I was Randy’s younger brother. He walked up, towering over me in his shadow.

    He asked, “You Randy’s braddah?”

    I said, “Yeah.”

    He took off his shades, held out his hand, and said, “Brah, we call your braddah ‘Da Shreddah.’”



Lessons on Barreling:



    Last night we were D-U-N, done. Randy told me that we needed to get to Balangan early to catch the low tide. The plan was to wake up at 0500.

    0542, I look under my door and see the that light isn’t on. I turn over on my pillow and go back to sleep. Around 0600 I open the door to find Randy warming up.

    “I set my alarm, but Jessica still had to wake me up,” he says.

    Shit, he doesn’t need to explain. I’m grateful for the extra rest. As I warm up I feel my body ache; even my calves are sore. These recent sessions have taken their toll on me. Even more, my waist continues to slim. I was a size 32 when I got here, and lately I’ve been wearing Randy’s 31s. My waist hasn’t been this small since basic training at Ft. Knox.

What a way to start the session. That triple choco donut looks rich!

    The sun’s out when we jump on our bikes; it’s a late start for us. We stop at Dunkin’ Donuts. I’m a bad influence on Randy. He’s drinking coffee again. I reach for a donut, and he reaches for the triple chocolate one. Oh well, it’s a guilty pleasure that’s hard to pass up. We shoot the shit about the week’s surf, talk more about Bali, finish off our coffee, and hit the road. The traffic’s a little heavier, but it’s still manageable.

Front row parking

    When we reach Balangan, Randy leads us onto a backroad that takes us all the way to Froggy’s; it’s front row parking, no more hills or stairs. Froggy is still opening up shop. We take a look out at the surf, and it’s significantly smaller than yesterday. Randy says that today is a west swell. I look at the line up, and I can see what he means. Since there’s less of an angle, the waves are coming straight on. They are faster, racier, and a little more walled. The plus sized sets are less consistent, but there are still waves to be had. Personally, I’m kind of looking forward to an easier day, a break. We are both thinking that this will be a day for turns.

    We watch the waves for a while, hoping that the incoming tide will bring in some size. We paddle out at about 0835. The reef dance is easy since the surf isn’t as brutal. There’s about eight heads at the bottom of the wave, and the top has a small handful. Randy starts getting his waves without delay. I, on the other hand, take a while to get going (as always). Unfortunately, today’s not my day. I’ve never been so tired paddling for waves that I don’t get. It’s so exhausting paddling and kicking, only to have the wave roll away from you. The crowd gets even thicker, and I try to work the outside line to see if I can get a set wave. I continue to scratch out on perfect waves. Randy even calls me on to some, but they are “turn and go” waves, and I feel too rushed to get them. In frustration, I paddle further away from everyone and sit at the peak. I’m thinking that it will be a guaranteed ride because I’ll take off late. Well, I do get guaranteed rides, at least four of them. The only problem is that I can’t make the sections.

    I look at Randy, and he says, “Too deep.”

    He’s right. I am sitting way too deep, but I don’t feel like paddling with the pack. I just want to get the wave early, but I’m paying the price by eating the lip. For the first time, I’m having legit wipeout/fumbles at Balangan. On one wave, I pop up, but I’m too far up on the board, and I bury my nose as I’m dropping in.

    This is a short write up. I look for the wave to make the session, but I don’t get it. Instead, there are jellyfish everywhere, and I’m getting stung. I’m not the only one. Other guys are splashing the water away from them, cursing, and rubbing their limbs. The top of the wave is working. I’m watching surfers get some pretty long rides. There are chicks out there too, and they’re in shape, charging.

    Randy catches his last wave in, and I spend another twenty minutes searching for what I don’t get. I even work the inside, but the inside is fast and goes over the reef. I paddle in as much as I hate to admit it.

    Well, I can’t expect everyday to be a great session. This is real life, not the movies, and everything changes. Randy has a Bali coffee as we watch the waves and hang out a little. We go next door to Jeffery’s Photo to see if he got any pics of us. It turns out that somebody got four barrels today.

Did you say, "Barrel over shallow reef?" It's no problem for this guy.

    On the ride back home, Randy has to stop by Carr Four (Bali’s K-Mart), so I make the ride home solo. There’s so much traffic. I’m stuck behind cars and can’t merge with the bikes. It’s frustrating. Every Western driving instinct hinders my reactions. I get home just a couple minutes before Randy. I spend the rest of the evening writing. I chat with Lauren online, and she’s upset that I’ve been out of touch. I don’t mean to, it‘s just been pretty hectic. I apologize and tell her I‘ll make the effort. It’s 2250. I am tired.