BARNYARD JAVA: Day 3 (double), SUN 19JUL2015

Loc: East Java

Time: 0600-0800

Crew: Bri, Sonia

Conditions: 4-5 FT, light offshore      

Fins: SA2 side fins, JF-1 in the trail slots

     First legit dawn patrol of the trip. Did I mention we have an outdoor bathroom? It’s just a trip waking up in the middle of the night and going outside to your private bathroom to take a leak. Same goes for the morning when we brush our teeth. The morning air is cool with a slight tinge of burning trash. Being courteous to our neighbors, we load our boards on the moped, wheel it out to the street, and start the engine from there.

     The tide’s nice and low. Three people are out. Bri and I walk to the point and get to the lineup with ease. Even though the surf looks flat, sets come in and catch everyone off guard. During low tide, the sets break far out, turning the point into a racy wall, finally shouldering out towards the inside sand bank. Even though the cliff area is shallow, the sand bank breaks into deeper water for a long ride. Aside from the sets, there are plenty in-between waves that break at the point. Some of them line up, but they are smaller. So if you choose to surf the smaller waves, you’re definitely gonna get caught when the sets come.

     I’m too far inside for the set. Guys too close to the point either duckdive the wave, get obliterated upon take off, or fall behind the section. After duckdiving the second wave, the third one’s coming. It’s whitewashy and choppy but easily five feet. These inside scraps can be fun, too. Just then, I notice Bri right in front of it, and the look on her face says that she’s on the brink of making a pimp decision whether she should turn and go or not.

     “Go!” I yell. “Fuck it! Just go!”

     She turns, paddles, and disappears as the wave steamrolls forward. I lose sight of her, and then I see the top of her head moving down the line. Just looking at the back of the wave, I can tell that she’s gonna get all the way to shore.

#

     With the local Javanese still celebrating Idul Friti, many warungs are still closed. Bri and I realize that the instant cereal, snacks, and water from the Indomaret aren’t doing much to keep us nourished after our surf sessions. I ask Sonja if she can take us to the market, and it turns out that the manager Tina needs to get some groceries, too.

     The market is open air with several vendors lined up next to each other, selling everything from bananas to fireworks. Tina greets everyone in the market with little cultural subtleties that are so different from America, like the way she clasps everyone’s hand between both of hers. Everyone here is in headscarves. An elderly woman walks up to Bri and says, “Hello, how are you, welcome!” she rambles off all the greetings she knows.

     We’re leeches to Sonja and Tina, so we walk around the market to try and fend for ourselves. The mission: bananas and eggs.

     Before we make our first purchase, some local women ask Bri for her picture. It happens all the time now. After surfing, any time we’re in public. Something about being a tall beautiful Westerner that makes people want to take pics with you.

     “Barapa” is an important word to know out here. It means, “How much.” Second, you must know how to count. In Indonesian, I count off six eggs, enam, ask how much they cost, somewhat understand what the lady tells me, and pull out my rupiah. The transaction goes well, but the lady wants more small talk. I can’t tell you how stupid I feel not being able to communicate back with them. Despite my Indonesian pocketbook, nothing is coming back to me. In the end, the ladies laugh as we walk away, but it doesn’t feel like they’re being mean.

#

Time: 1420-1720

Crew: Bri, Sonia

Conditions: 4-5 FT, light offshore

Fins: SA2 side fins, JF-1 in the trail slots

     Gigantar rides out of the compound with his longboard strapped beside his scooter. If he comes back soon, it means the surf is shit. Thirty minutes later, there’s no sign of him. Doesn’t matter because I had already planned to paddle out by 1430 to get at least a solid three hour session.

     When we arrive, the surf is producing long peeling lefts . On the way out, another set of locals ask Bri to take a pic with them.

     The locals arrive around 1530. I don’t know if they’re coming back from work or what, but one’s wearing a full wetsuit, the other a spring. Sonja told me that it’s because the water temp right now is actually cold for them. I can see why. There are pockets of cool water where there’s a little chill, but by California standards, these are straight up boardshorts conditions. Amazing though, the locals are freezing. I do my best to show my respect. When they paddle out, I move inside and wide, giving them priority. They watch the German guys and gals eat shit on the sets or blow the sections, and then they turn and go. Yeller actually has a reverse carving 360 down on his frontside. Within an hour, they are cold and back on the sand.

     A frustrating thing about being here is how no one has etiquette. The tourists wonder why the locals are so upset. I get upset at my own homebreak when people are greedy.

     Gigantar’s on a longboard. Woof . . . I hate to judge, but let me vent. This guy is catching waves at the point, coming back, sitting back at the top, and then just catching wave after wave. Fucking greedy. On top of that, he’s on a fucking longboard. The sets are an easy five feet, so it’s rippable. It would be one thing if he were actually turning, walking the nose, or doing “good longboarding,” but he’s not. Even the tourist chicks out here, after fourteen days they’ve figured out how to pop up, and all they’re doing is drawing a single line down the wave for minute-long longboard rides. Yet, it’s probably unreasonable for me to expect so much. They have no surf where they come from. While Rick, Klaude, Francis and I come from surf country, they have to fit their quota for all the waves they’ll catch this year.

     My waves. The only phrase I can use to describe it is Attack Mode. I’m getting less drag without the center fin. Funny thing is this board doesn’t feel as loose as it first did. I probably just needed to get used to it. My snaps feel like there’s too much hold. My cutbacks could be could be more fluid, but rebounding off the whitewash, there is definitely zero lack in drive. It’s just the best feeling, coming out of a cutback, being behind the section, pumping twice, and being automatically reset at the steepest part of the wave to do more damage.

     Another cool thing about being here is comparing this trip to how I surfed two years ago. Last time, I was pumping just to keep up, now it’s like I can see and feel what the waves going to do. I’ve gone from keeping up to setting up. This 5’6 also wraps much tighter turns. I’ve gone from sluggishly turning my 6’0 Lost Mini Driver to being snappier on this 5’6. The cutbacks from years past were miracles every time I pulled one off, now I’m flying out of them ready for the next maneuver.

     I had said that my goal was to leave here with a layback snap, but do you know how hard it is to experiment on something else when you’re already having so much fun? Let’s just call it “polishing,” to be on a wave that lets you just open up your repertoire. In Cali I’d have to pray for good days at Trestles just to get consistent turns. Good days in the South Bay when three-turn waves are on buffet mode? Rare . . . RARE!

     On a couple waves, I mess around with some layback carves. I ride out of one, but the wave is so racy, that I’m denied a clean exit from the whitewash. There are other things I’m noticing about the wave. On the inside where it stands up, sometimes I get caught behind the section, and there’s a hint of an opportunity to get slotted.

     Worst case scenario, I could always keep carving. I could always be me.

Ice cream at the Indomaret