BARNYARD JAVA: Day 6 (double), WED 22JUL2015

Time: 0545-0800

Conditions: 3-5 FT

Fins: JF-1 Thrusters

     Last night, after dealing with the surf crowd, Sonja suggested that we do a legit dawn patrol at Choco Point to be the first ones out, so this morning I roll out of bed right when my alarm goes off at 0500. 0530 would be a good time to be in the water, so I figure I’m making good time.

     I load up the boards while Bri gets ready. No sign of Sonja or Randy. They’re probably still sleeping, but Gigantar is fully dressed and sitting on top of his boardbag at the compound gate. Holy shit, is this for real? Is he leaving? I want to ask, but I don’t want to make it obvious. He comes back inside and walks towards me on his way to the kitchen.

     “Good morning,” he says without looking at me. As Klaude would say, it doesn’t count if you don’t make eye contact.   

     “Where to next?” I say. “Bali?”

     “No!” he says, and then he makes a grunting sound before walking off.

     The rush of morning air against our bodies on the moped is cool, or as the locals would say, “Fresh.” August is dry and cool while May is wet and hot. Mental note taken.

     Pulling up to park, I already see three mopeds with surfracks. What the fuck? Three people are sitting at the point. One of them’s a goofy footer, and I can already tell it’s Randy. The next surfer goes backhand on the next wave. Sonja. They had already been up, had their coffee in the kitchen, warmed up, and hit the water. The tide is drained. A set breaks at the top but sections off at the inside bank. The waves aren’t quite lining up yet.

     I bust out the rashguard vest that Rick had given to me a couple years ago, which will now be a local donation. My poor nipples. They’re scabbed up, and I only barebacked it once since being here. Scratching into waves, I feel my nipples chafe against the deck. The harder I kick the more abrasive.

     For Bri, her injury is on her knee. In Cali, I backed off on getting on her about using her knees while popping up, and now, without a wetsuit for paddling, she’s paying the price. The skin on her right knee is tearing from constant friction against the board. We’ve tried waterproof bandages, but the knee is a tricky area to secure.

     Randy, Sonja, and Mark are sitting wide and outside, so it takes a while to join them. Right when I reach them, a solid four-footer rolls in off the point. I turn and go. The first section is pumpy, but it connects through the sandbank and offers some open face. On this thruster setup, I feel the loss of speed that I would have on my quads, but I can still get down the line, it just takes more effort. I wrap my first cutback, and the board feels loose. Redirecting, I jam a frontside snap, and it’s the deepest gouge that I’ve stuck since being here. It comes to show, quads=speed, thruster=pivot. Which do I value more?

     After my last turn I feel the tension from my leash release. Fuckin’ leash snapped. It’s a long paddle to shore. I start swimming. My board’s not too far away. The next wave pushes me closer to my board. The leash was a hand-me-down from Gary, a comp leash, and I guess the consistent sessions wore it out.

     Back at the lineup, my brother offers me his leash. “I’m gonna switch boards anyway,” he says. “Also, I want to change out this.” He tugs at his wetsuit jacket. We swap leashes, and my session’s saved.

     Claudia and another German longboard chick paddle out, but they’re not on longboards, thank goodness. I ask about Gigantar. They say he’s going back to Germany and then to another surf trip to France.

     France . . . that motherfucker’s going to France just to rent a longboard, even though he has his own boards, to just pump down the line and take all the waves. I feel for the surfers at his next destination. Well, that’s good news. No Gigantar, and the German chicks are on medium boards. Hopefully they suck.

     When Randy comes back we trade off on a couple of waves. I’m getting used to the feeling of thrusters on this 5’6, and the board isn’t too loose at all. I still blow my layback carves, though. Feels like the board is so rockerless that it’s flat across the water when I drop-wallet and try to stick the maneuver. Of course, it’s probably just me, too, but my turns feel much gougier and snappier. Very satisfied. For now, I’ll take the sensation of quality turns over speed and hold. Maybe when it gets smaller I’ll switch.

     At about 0730 the tide softens things up. Sonja leaves and so does Randy. I work the inside and get a couple more mooshy waves before calling the session.

     Back at the compound, Randy’s talking to Edo over a cup of tea. The kitchen’s empty. No smartass French guy, Gigantar’s gone, and Sonja is making omelets. I end the morning with a nice shit, my first one in three days. As it slithers like a tube of putty from my anus, I notice the bright oranges and light browns in its solid body.

So Randy took Bri and I to Quick Chicken. It's like the Javanese fastfood franchise out there. 10,500 IDR for a chicken burger, which is only 80 cents U.S.

Time: 1520-1730

Conditions: 3-4 FT

Fins: JF-1 Thrusters    

     We show up a little later because of the tide, but four people are already in the lineup with three-foot waves peeling across the point. Maybe we could have come at 1430.

     Paddling out, we sit on top of the small group and catch some inside runners. Though, our waves don’t line up all the way inside. Pretty soon, everyone wants to sit at the top now. I move inside, switching places.

     The German longboard chicks aren’t out. With Gigantar gone, too, it’s the mellowest session Bri and I have had since we’ve been here. Without any greedy Germans, there’s plenty to go around, and everyone is catching waves. Stringbean Elena is the compound mascot. We all encourage her to catch waves, and now she has enough confidence to sit at the top of the point.

     I do all right on my waves, getting my frontside snaps in and a couple wraparound cutbacks, but I seem to keep losing my board whenever I blow the fins out. At this point, I’m not sure if I’m better off on a quad or thruster setup, but with how slopey and sectiony this wave is, quads make sense to get enough speed and drive connect all the way down the line.

     Randy paddles out when the locals do. Bintang, a guy who I had met two years ago, paddles up to me to say hi. About ten locals are out, combined with all the late shifters from the local homestays, that’s a total of 21 people in the lineup. After a while, sitting wide and inside doesn’t work. A few noobs get in the way of the locals, either ditching their boards while snaking, and quite a few are caught on the inside, ditching their boards as well.

     I sit outside but find myself too deep. I miss a couple sets, but get some decent in betweeners.

     Frustrated, we leave before it gets dark. Half the crowd is still out with the surf getting better as the tide goes down.

     Later, we go to the night market and eat some nasi pecel, which is a coconut rice dish. Afterwards, we buy some martabak, which is like a pancake sandwich with chocolate and peanuts in this case.

     Back at the bungalow, Bri and I are drained. This has been a true surf trip, just surf in the morning, eat after, surf again, eat again, and then go to sleep. We don’t have energy for much of anything else.

Even in what East Java considers to be a small town, there is still so much going on here. Riding on my moped with Bri behind me, holding on, the wind in my hair, and the sun in my arms, I couldn't be happier to be here.