A Barney in Bali--Day 25, 02JULY2011 SAT

Again:


    I sleep much better than I did the night before. I’m not attacked by mosquitoes, the bed and pillows are broken in, and I rack out by 2300.

    It’s 0400 when my body’s alarm clock goes off. Another hour and a half. I open my eyes again, and it’s just like yesterday. Light’s entering my room. “Fuck!” I say to myself. “I did it again.” It’s 0642, and I stumble around trying to prep my gear for the morning. Randy knows the deal. I walk downstairs, mount my equipment, and give my brother’s shortcut to Balangan (that I failed at yesterday) another shot. I fill up my bike with gas first and follow the road that I believe is the right one. Next think I know, I’m heading in the opposite direction just like yesterday. I shake my head. I bust a bitch, stop by Dunkin’ Donuts, Randy’s not there, so I keep riding to Balangan. Morning traffic is light, so I take more risks by aggressively passing other motorists. It’s my fastest ride to Balangan yet. I pull up and see Randy’s bike already parked. He’s waiting, the tide is going up, and there’s no rush.

Everyday we watch guys get caught on the inside that can't make it out.

Spirituality:


    The waves this morning are nothing special. The swell peaked yesterday, and was expected to drop. It’s the smallest day that I’ve seen at Balangan yet. As usual, there are always a couple good sets, but when and how long until they happen is another issue. I drink my Bali coffee and begin to change when Randy spots Chad. Randy’s sitting closer to Chad as I warm up, so I can’t hear everything they are talking about. I don’t want to give bad information, but I tried to confirm as much with Randy as I could afterwards.

    Randy said that he noticed a certain open minded spiritualness about Chad. “Usually yogis are like that after years of practice,” said Randy. Randy talked about some of his yoga friends that have the same energy about them. Randy asked him how he reached that level, and to his surprise, Chad got in touch with his spirituality before yoga; he got it from mountain climbing. Through competitive mountain climbing he put himself in so many near death situations that it changed him. Chad talked about opening his life to love, that he’s not “up there” everyday, and that some days are low. Randy also told me that that’s why a lot of yoga instructors stay single because they are so into their spiritual progression. They also talked about surfing. Chad said that he’s comfortable where he’s at as far as his level. Randy said that it’s rare for someone to know himself that well, that he can surf in the water and just “be.” I thought about it, and it made sense. All of my surfer buddies, myself included, are always pushing ourselves; not one of us are comfortable with where we’re at. Well, they hit it off pretty well and exchanged information. Before I leave I’ll probably end up telling him to hit me up when he surfs California and that I’ll have my couch ready for him. Other than military related travels, I haven’t really been on a journey as personal as this. But for a first real trip, it’s been a great privilege to meet some very interesting personalities along the way.

    My brother enlightened me a little more about how traveling alone for long periods of time changes you, and then I thought about other friends that tried to tell me this a long time ago, but I was too narrow minded to know what they meant. I have a friend, an old army buddy named Sterwin. We spent a whole year in Utah together in the remote desert. We also spent another year in the Sinai desert right after Utah. He always tells me that he misses those places. I never understood why, and I thought he was crazy. When I remember him during those deployments, he lived quietly, enjoyed his self time, and was always playing his guitar. I wasn’t much of a surfer then, but now I realize . . . everyone’s different, and the isolated desert to him is what the ocean is to me. And at the same time, despite my surf sabbatical, I’m still pretty limited. Chad does a lot of activities in the snow and the mountains too. It’s a little reality check. I feel as if I’ve credited myself for things that I’ve done only to find I haven’t really done much at all.

    Randy and I talked more about how Chad’s path in life isn’t easy. I thought about my own personality. I’d like to open myself up more and carry myself in a similar fashion, but I’ve always felt that I had a certain energy. I’m the guy that says, “Hi,” without getting a “hi“ back. I’m always defensive around strangers until I feel that I can at least trust them a little before I open up. I claim to be a positive person, but I’m pretty damn pessimistic as well. It guess to reach a certain level of spirituality, one can’t just flip a switch and change. It may take years of practice, time alone, and journeys away from home.

That's the man

    Chad runs a blog about his adventures and experiences at:  chadsayers.blogspot.com .


Dwindling:




    We complain about the water before we paddle out. The high tide makes everything bumpy, or what my brother calls “wonky.” I paddle out first and sit near the bottom of the wave but much further towards the inside. There are actually shoulders, but they are two footers, good for turns if you’re fast enough, but all I can do is pump and draw high lines to get the longest ride possible. 

Glassy

    Randy paddles out but gets some decent turns out of the small surf. My next wave is a little bigger with a section that stands up a little more. I see the face going vertical at about shoulder height, but I continue to pump down the line and practice my sorry excuse for a cutback. After the ride Randy says, “You had a good barrel section.” I know I saw the wave standing up, but I had no idea that it was good for a barrel, especially in this small surf. Barrel hunting is just entirely new to me; I still don’t know what to look for.

Random set

    The next couple waves are just okay compared to the big days that we’ve had. I search for barrel sections and linger by the pocket more, but the waves don’t seem to do it again. This blog is being written a little late, so I can’t remember all the details of the morning, but I remember that it wasn’t anything to light a match and stomp my feet over.

    We paddle back in and polished off a pancake each. For 15,000 rupiah you can’t go wrong.