A Barney in Bali--Day 6 (double sesh), 13JUNE2011 MON

Delicious mangostine! Not sure if I'm spelling this right.

Bean cakes, so yummy!

    
    
     After the morning session, we cruise around town and head back to the market. I notice that Pepperidge Farm cookies are around a whopping eight dollars. Randy explains that things imported are going to cost a lot more.

     We head back, eat Christina’s cooking, and power nap until about 1330. The wind has gotten stronger, and the verdict is that Canggu is no doubt going to be blown out. We make the call to head to Dhyana Pura at mid tide and just stay local. When we get there it’s completely shut down. The tide’s still too low, the swell from the morning is gone, and there’s no shape. I suggest we call it a day if we know Canggu’s gonna be the same, but Randy says that he wants to show me a spot near it called Tugu. Tugu is known for being more of a slopey long board wave, easy, and good to practice turns on. He says it’s more protected from the wind. It’s a hell of a decision to make. The sun’s already low and traffic’s a bitch.

Bad camera shot.

     On the way there, I witness the thickest traffic I’ve seen so far since being here. An intersection is an ocean of motor bikes around vehicles that are bumper to bumper. I hold my breath when we cut right through it.

     “It gets worse than this,” says Randy.

Tugu

     Tugu has a lot of wind on it, mostly side shore from the south. I see what he’s talking about. It’s a long ass paddle out, but there is a left that’s consistent, but it’s barely three feet.



     A Balinese chick appears out of no where wearing a tight green dress, holding a bottle of wine, two wine glasses, and wanders the shoreline as if she’s looking for someone. It’s an odd sight that we did not expect. The next break over is The Gu again, so we go there.

     The Sand Bar seems to be working, but there are about six heads on it. It’s small and choppy, but we figure that we just want to paddle out and get wet anyway, so it doesn’t matter. On the way out, Randy catches a wave on the inside. I continue and sit outside the main peak. I catch my first right which actually produces an open shoulder, but I lose balance on my top turn and fall. The break in front of the resort is giving the cleanest lefts, but it’s a locals only spot this evening, as six gangly looking dudes are trading off. I want to share the peak at the Sand Bar, but I continue to get some random rights, none as good as the first wave. The right seems just a little hollow but closes out fast. Randy works the inside the whole session getting both lefts and rights. It’s amazing what you can do with a strong paddle. I insert myself into the lineup but fail to get any of their waves. One of the Aussies is tearing it up with a single fin.



     The sun’s already down, and it’s hard to make out shapes in the surface. We catch our last waves in. It turns dark, the moon’s bright, and we realize we forgot to bring clear glasses. We ride away through screens of bugs. One gets in my left eye and remains a nuisance the whole way home. When we arrive, there’s a power outage, and we eat in the dark, talking about surfing.

     I’m given words of encouragement to push myself harder and try new things in the water now that I have Bali at my fingertips. I hope I don’t let myself down.

A Barney in Bali--Day 5, 12JUNE2011 SUN



The Pre Blog:


     It’s 0500 in the morning, and the wind is dead outside. That’s good news. It means that we’ll either go to Nusa Dua or a new spot on the other side of the island. I woke up about fifteen minutes ago, and since then I’ve done my morning routine with more of an awareness: brushing my teeth, drinking my water, etc. Outside is still pure darkness with a faint blue haze in the sky. I peer through the tinted windows to look at the palm tree that isn’t moving. It kind of hits me then: Bali . . . my expectations were ridiculous. Deep inside, I expected a fun playground of perfect waves. I hoped that I’d over stress on the thought, build a monster, and be welcomed with gradual waves that would let me in, then throw out over my head only when I was in the right position for the barrel. No . . . it’s not that at all. Bali can be that way for someone already seasoned or at least saltier than I; that is the truth. My brother said his favorite spot is a spot that only barrels; every wave is nothing but a barrel. We haven’t been there yet, and honestly . . . I won’t be surprised if I don’t see it, not on this trip.

     I had ridiculous visions of returning to California, stepping off of that plane, like an enlightened monk that’s returned after a long journey from the Shaolin temple. I would turn to my friends with the look of wisdom and say: “Yes, I’ve seen the light. I know now, my friends, I know. I know it all. Barrels, big waves, everything; I know the secrets to surfing.” If there’s anything that I’ve gained so far, it’s perspective. The only thing I know is what I need to be, and I am not there yet. In reality, I may step off the plane, let out a sigh of releif, and say, “Fuckin’ A . . . I made it. . . . My balls are still between my legs, and I’m home.” A Barney in Bali, it’s a bit of irony I guess. A random title, but I see that it actually fits. I am the Barney at your leisure, and I will report the trials and the tribulations of a Barney in Bali.--0512

Skunked:


     My brother checks on me as I’m writing this. He tells me that the wind’s dead, and that our best bet is to gamble on a spot called Sanur. He starts his warm up ritual in the living room, and I do mine in my bedroom. We are in a bit of a rush to leave; the energy is off a little. It’s probably because I struggle with posting my last blog before it’s time to go. We hope that the wind stays like this, and we ride to Dunkin’ Donuts for their breakfast special. It’s too early to wear our shades, so dust and bugs irritate our eyes. We shoot the shit, look outside, and still see that there’s no sway in the trees. We grab our sandwiches to go and head to the Bukit (the small head of Bali where Nusa Dua and Uluwatu are). The traffic is light, Randy gives an extra twist to the throttle, and my glasses and helmet are unstable from the rushing air. We reach the village towns again as we escape the busy city. Trash is burning.

No waves! Randy angry!

     There’s waves, but they’re being knocked down by the wind. That smooth reef that we walked across on day two has white wash over it. We gamble, we lose. It turns out that Canggu was the right call, but we both wanted something different, especially after two consecutive, choppy, and blown-out sessions there. Either way, Canggu is in the opposite direction, and we’d have to backtrack to get their--inconvenient.

     Randy takes me sight seeing to another spot which is a secret and could only be posted in the pics. Because of the wind, these spots aren’t working, but the left barrels when the conditions are right. The sights are beautiful, and I snap some photos regardless.

Dhyana Pura:


      That local break in Seminyak that we looked at yesterday evening is called Dhyana Pura. It’s our best bet because it’s on the way home. By the time we’re driving back through Kuta again, everyone is heading to work, so there’s a lot more jockeying involved to get through, and more ass-clenching on my part. We arrive to find only three Balinese locals in the water. The water’s glassy, and the wind hasn’t reached that part of the island yet. It’s amazing how a little distance makes a difference.

     “It’s not gonna last,” says Randy.

     I find it hard to believe. “But it’s so beautiful out!” I reply.

     The water’s smooth, glassy, silky, and it’s sunny and hot, but there is one major problem: there’s not much shape to the break. Randy warned me the other day, that we’d only surf here if we just needed the quick fix. We lost on a gamble, and this is the consequence. The locals make it look fun, as they catch some quick shoulders for some decent rides. In between the sets, the water is so motionless that it looks like a flat mirror all the way to the horizon. But when some of shoulderless sets come, the crashing lips looks like lines of exploding dynamite. It would be a picky session.

     We paddle out and Randy identifies our landmarks. He calls me into the first wave, and surprisingly it’s a left hander with a peeling shoulder. I pop up late but fail to get the drop. I’m stuck on the highline. I even do the “California shuffle” to the nose of my board and only drop in to mid face before the wave closes out. What a shame . . . a good wave gone to waste.

     Randy does his normal thing as the locals watch him feast on their waves. I paddle for waves that are close outs. He tells me to practice hitting the lip or even doing a floater to end my ride. I paddle, I try, but the lip always seems to be curling the whole time I’m chasing it. The plus sets are about four feet in the distance. I work and duckdive to get past them. Two chicks paddle out, and then four more are on long boards, probably Aussies. One paddles in front of Randy and I and starts giggling. We smile back and look at each other like “WTF?” For all you single guys out there, I think you’d like Bali.

     I don’t know how long we surfed. I’ve taken a step back from timing my sessions; I’m on vacation. After about an hour the wind arrives as Randy predicted. It’s not blowing hard, but the texture’s in the water. The local boys start hooting at every set, but it’s not the type of hoot you’d here in a Cali line-up. Randy gets some long rides that I still find hard to fathom given the conditions. My rides are short bottom turns that go nowhere. There’s a long lull while we wait to catch one in. I go first. Just like my first wave, my last has shape. It’s not pretty, but I trim down the line for a long ride and do three half-assed top turns.

     We kill off our sandwiches while we dry off. Sure, not the best session, but at least we paddled out. I’ve always said that I can do nothing all day long, but as long as I surfed, I feel like I’ve accomplished something.

     We go home, get cleaned up, and eat Dum Sum after. We cruise through the surf ghetto to do some shopping. The streets are so narrow that you literally browse each store front while sitting on your motorcycle. In the evening, the whole family and Randy’s friend go out to eat at an Indian buffet. Tomorrow is another early morning. The swell is dropping off, but the wind will still be there. The call will be Canggu. Maybe we can catch it before the wind picks up. Being a Monday, it shouldn’t be crowded.

A Barney in Bali--Day 4, 11JUNE2011 SAT

Prickly Little Bastards:


The plan was to wake up at 0500. I woke up and noticed light entering my room. I looked at my watch--0620. I jumped up, entered the living room, and saw my brother reading the swell forecast. He had tea ready. He said he expected that I’d fall into a coma sooner or later and that it’s normal from the travel. Also, he pointed outside to the windy conditions--not good. The only spot within reach, protected by the wind, was the world renowned Uluwatu. However, it being a Saturday, Randy said that the crowd factor would be ridiculous, not to mention the lack of swell. Once again, the call was Canggu.

By now, the rides on the back of the motorcycle are less of an “ass clencher.” Like dejavu, but in a bad way, the wind and waves were similar to yesterday evening. The size didn’t bother me, as 3-4 foot conditions could still be fun, but the wind, the wind was just fucking everything up again. Burgers was empty, and the crowds at River Mouth and the southern peak were similar as well. We see only two people paddle to The Burger. Decision made, and this time we didn’t forget any gear.

Randy said, “I’m not expecting anything from this session.” I wasn’t either, but all I needed was a couple good ones to make the session, and that’s always possible.

We paddled out and became separated. The rip pulled me past the line up, and I finally noticed Randy’s distance. The two guys that paddled out before us weren’t guys at all; they were two little Balinese brothers. One was elementary school age and the other could’ve been in sixth grade. There I was fighting the current, and these kids didn’t look troubled at all. Little local groms, the older brother had dark Balinese skin and was really cut. Also, the little kid ripped. He got a lot of waves and maneuvered down the line unleashing bits of spray here and there. The little brother was so small that he was being tossed in the surf as if his board was a leaf. He wasn’t as good, but he tried and paddled hard to get into some waves. Oh the irony. Decades older than these boys, the same thing was happening.

The surf was a bit choppy, and the rip current didn’t help. Regardless, I was still able to get some of the lefts that rolled through. Doing nothing crazy, I caught my first wave but took it too far in. I was having too much fun drawing a high line, pumping, and racing against the section. I was over the brown rocks again and jumped ship over a couple feet of water. I paddled back to warn Randy.

The rest of the my rides weren’t significant. The waves broke weird, like the wind was making them break early. It affected my timing. Some waves were too fast and others bogged because they were doubled up. And of course, there was my skill to blame first and foremost. Randy said that even the pros surf shitty waves, but they make them look good. Me? I can’t do that yet.

On my second to the last wave, I caught a fast left. The section was beginning to close, but I stayed committed to get a couple pumps out. It wasn’t even head high, but when the wave closed out it sucked me down with it. I wanted to hurry and get back to the surface, so I felt for the sand to see if I could push myself up. Wrong move. Instead, it felt like I touched a bed of rocks made out of sharp glass; I felt punctured. It was that deep sharp pain and in both feet. I yanked my feet away as fast as I could, but that deep, dull sensation was already there; the damage was done. I was pissed off paddling back. That could have been totally avoided. I knew I was going to pay for it later. I was more worried to see what the damage was, but I waited ‘til we were home. I felt for my right heel and pulled out part of a sea urchin needle that was sticking out. Right on cue, Randy said he was ready to paddle in.

While Randy and Jessica ate Christine’s home made cooking, I was digging out sea urchin from my feet with a needle. The thought of what was down there scared me. Could you imagine a bad wipe out on a big wave in the wrong place in that spot? There could be a whole bed of sea urchin down there, just waiting for you to get smashed on and roll around in. Fuck that! I’m going to be really cautious when riding left at that spot.
The wind never died, so we cruised around Seminyak instead of surfing again. I got to see what the market looks like, and we went to the local breach break to see if there were any pulses in the water. I hope that tomorrow’s conditions will be better. Just because it’s Bali doesn’t mean it’s perfect. The surf is still at mercy to many factors, like every surf break is in the world.

Dhyana Pura