A Barney in Bali--Day 22 (double sesh), 29JUNE2011 WED

Pancakes:


    After the morning session I order a Bali coffee and one banana pancake. I don’t expect much, especially since each pancake is a buck-fifty. I expect something small, something I can just inhale in a second, leaving just as hungry. I say, “Fuck it,” and order two of those motherfuckers. I watch the surf, Froggy continues to get my attention every time some chicks walk by. Apparently, he’s seen me taking ass shots, so now he chooses to be an accessory to the crime. I’m forced to snap away, so as not to be rude to my Balinese host.

    The pancake arrives; it’s big. I assume that they combined both orders and made just one big pancake. “No problem,” I say to myself. No, it’s not an American pancake. Something is missing. It’s not fluffy; it’s dense and thick. It’s the size of the plate, there’s banana in it, and there’s a side of honey which I don’t spare. I polish it off and watch the surf. I’m definitely satisfied. Here comes Froggy again. “Banana pancake,” he says. Motherfucker, it’s the second one. I underestimated their portions because they’re cheap, and now I’m forced to do round two. I eat it, I’m stuffed, and it’s too much presurf fuel.

    The tide starts draining out fast, but it’s still inconsistent. Some guys leave the lineup. A couple good sets come, but the wait is long. I’m looking at my watch; it’s 1300. I think about the rush hour traffic. I don’t want that. I need to leave by 1430, that is the plan.

   
Water on the Neck:


    The reef dance is brutal as always. Thank goodness I don’t get grated. I hurdle a couple waves and make the mad dash to deeper water. Success! I’m sitting in the same area as the morning. I have a good solid hour, so I tell myself to make the best of it.

    The inconsistency kills me again. The waits are long, but a couple outside sets come through. I get a big wave, the section’s so fast it closes, I fade outside of the lip as it comes crashing down, I’m worried if I’m over shallow reef. I step off the rail, and the impact forces my head forward. I feel a couple mini cracks in my neck. The good news is that I don’t touch the bottom. It’s not a success, but the low tide has me a little apprehensive.

   
No Aloha from this Hawaiian:


    My brother’s friend’s friend is in the water. I don’t want to say his name, but for fuck sake, let’s call him Murf. He’s huge, from Maui, and I’d be surprised if his genetics aren’t mostly of Hawaiian blood. He reminds me of the big, scary, Hawaiians from my high school days. He’s freakin’ menacing, wearing short shorts, and on a long board. My brother knows him too, we haven’t been formally introduced, so I stay off his jock. He catches a wave, but something bad must’ve happened because I hear him say, “FOCK!” somewhere on the inside where I can’t see him. He’s intimidating. He paddles through the line up, stands on his long board exposing his full Polynesian physique, checks to see if any waves are coming, lies back down, and keeps paddling. Etiquette is not perfect at Balangan, but it’s pretty damn mellow for the most part. There’s another inside peak by the top of the wave. I’ve been watching people on it all day. There’s this little Aussie grom that’s been riding it. A wave comes, the grommie has the wave, and Murf knows this. He doesn’t even bother to look at the kid, paddles in with his huge long board, and cuts him off as if the kid didn’t exist. I hear the grom say, “Hey!”

    I can’t believe what I see. Are we in high school again? I mean . . . it’s so blatant, especially in a place like this. It’s unnecessary.

It is What it is:


    The rest of the session is frustrating. I have position for waves, but guys are on my inside with priority. Same thing as the morning, I’m too far on the outside. Nothing here is worth mentioning once again. I need clean up sets to equalize things, but they don’t come. I catch another one that’s glory hole worthy, but I straighten out and go back to shore. I need to beat traffic. As I’m doing the reef dance back, I notice Randy paddling out. We see each other and wave. He loves the low tide. We clearly missed each other today, but it’s all right. He knows I can find my way around, and we don’t have to be joined at the hip all the time. The walk back is just as long as the walk out. I turn around, see Randy on a wave, it’s hollow, he fades out, pulls in for second, and fades back out before the green room closes. Fuck, he’s on another level.

    I change and hit the road. I want to wait for Randy, but I’ve been there since 0900, and I can’t fuck with the whole Bali rush hour thing. I climb Balangan Hill, and when I reach the highway, traffic is manageable. There are only a few times that I have to ride the shoulder, but for the most part, it’s smooth sailing.

    There’s not much chicken curry at the house, so I decide to hit the café and find some chow. My time’s coming to an end in Bali. It’s such a great experience overall. I hope it’s going to make me a better surfer. So there’s been more spills than thrills, but the thrills could only have been experienced here, these thrills. No pressure, I got about a week left, I think I just need to focus on being stoked, that’s all that matters. Fun, just keep it simple. I’m a Barney in Bali.