When we got to The Bluff we were quickly warned by a few different neighbors that there was a mouse epidemic broken out among the camp and that we should make sure that anything we have that is edible be sealed up in hard, unchewable plastic. This was simply not possible. John and i had purchased an absurd amount of food, based on the fact that 'we were on vacation', 'money is no object', and 'can you really have enough Doritos, Tim Tams, and Cookies???' We were loaded with goodies and had not planned on bringing out mouse proof containers of any kind.
We were looted nightly, counting in the morning the casualties of mouse war...a bag of Doritos, a bag of muesli, a bag of Arnott's Scotch Fingers (chocolate dipped). They had no mercy and I couldn't blame them, if I were a mouse I would have done exactly the same, just a shame the poor little guys couldn't have boiled a pot of tea, cause the Scotch Fingers go down so much better dipped in a hot cuppa'.
We had nightly visits, I know, I was sleeping in the van. They gave me only one respite, they didn't run over my face, my legs yes, but not my face. We borrowed a mouse trap from my friend Dave who lives in an RV caravan out there, and after a week or so i was finding that i could sleep through the night without waking, with the exception of when the mouse trap was set off. In which case I would roll over, hold the trap out the window of the van, release the dead little vermin, and then reset the trap. One night, at the top of my game, we got 3 of the little suckers.
The second week a new American kid, Billie, rolled in to The Bluff. We were at Dave's one evening having one of Dave's famous communal dinners, i think it was pizza night, and Billie mentioned to me and Dave that he had a mouse living in his van. To which Dave replied numerous times, "Oh, so, you have "A" mouse living in your van huh? "A" mouse! "A" mouse living in your van...and I was laughing almost histerically at the look on Billie and Dave's faces as Dave exaggerated and drew out the "A" and Billie looked at us both like we were crazy, cause yes he had "a mouse" living in his van. I don't think Billie truly got what we were getting at until i broke in and told him that i had been catching about 2-3 a night in my van.
When after 2 and a half weeks we packed up our stuff and took up John's tent from next to the van we found a maze of mouse tunnels that had been dug up underneath John's tent. He had unconsciously been keeping a whole family of mice warm and dry while i kept them fed with our rations in the van.
We were looted nightly, counting in the morning the casualties of mouse war...a bag of Doritos, a bag of muesli, a bag of Arnott's Scotch Fingers (chocolate dipped). They had no mercy and I couldn't blame them, if I were a mouse I would have done exactly the same, just a shame the poor little guys couldn't have boiled a pot of tea, cause the Scotch Fingers go down so much better dipped in a hot cuppa'.
We had nightly visits, I know, I was sleeping in the van. They gave me only one respite, they didn't run over my face, my legs yes, but not my face. We borrowed a mouse trap from my friend Dave who lives in an RV caravan out there, and after a week or so i was finding that i could sleep through the night without waking, with the exception of when the mouse trap was set off. In which case I would roll over, hold the trap out the window of the van, release the dead little vermin, and then reset the trap. One night, at the top of my game, we got 3 of the little suckers.
The second week a new American kid, Billie, rolled in to The Bluff. We were at Dave's one evening having one of Dave's famous communal dinners, i think it was pizza night, and Billie mentioned to me and Dave that he had a mouse living in his van. To which Dave replied numerous times, "Oh, so, you have "A" mouse living in your van huh? "A" mouse! "A" mouse living in your van...and I was laughing almost histerically at the look on Billie and Dave's faces as Dave exaggerated and drew out the "A" and Billie looked at us both like we were crazy, cause yes he had "a mouse" living in his van. I don't think Billie truly got what we were getting at until i broke in and told him that i had been catching about 2-3 a night in my van.
When after 2 and a half weeks we packed up our stuff and took up John's tent from next to the van we found a maze of mouse tunnels that had been dug up underneath John's tent. He had unconsciously been keeping a whole family of mice warm and dry while i kept them fed with our rations in the van.
John and I arrived the Bluff on a Friday afternoon and to my surprise the same camp site that i occupied in May was available once again. It was the first day of the arrival of a new swell that actually came through to meet the expectations that the swell prediction charts promised. Apparently, August at the Bluff was a month of predictions gone bad, swells that just never turned up, leaving the surf crew craving for waves. So, when we pulled in on Friday arvo, it was no surprise that there was 15 people in the water waiting patiently for their crack at the inconsistent, but occassional waves that were coming through as the swell filled in.
JP and i were on it despite the crowd, leaving the unpacking and setting up camp for later, enjoying the salt water bath and washing off all the road dust and working out the cramps in our rumps from the 16 hour drive done in 2 days. When we returned to camp we set up John's tent in the dark, deciding that we would readjust it in the time that tomorrow would provide, though JP would end up leaving the tent in that very spot for the rest of the 2.5 weeks we were there, settling in and adjusting his sleeping position to accomodate the rocks that were not cleared out in the dark on that first night.
The next 2 days provided pumping 4 foot swell and consistently good surfing conditions with good winds. Our camp site right in front of the point allowed us to keep a close eye on the traffic to and from the point, so that we were on it at all the best opportunities with the least amount of people in the water.
JP quickly settled into the pace of life at The Bluff...mellow. He had a good book to read and the surf was pumping, so with 3 sessions of surfing a day, there was little else to do besides enjoy oneself. Until we went to Gnaraloo...
JP had heard me talk so much about The Bluff that when we pulled up to Gnaraloo, another perfect left hand point break just 34km north of The Bluff, he could hardly believe his eyes. It was pretty good, but the swell was backing off and the sets were pretty inconsistent, so we paddled out with low expectations, just wanting to get out there, enjoy the sunshine, and get a few while the wind came up and the crowd dwindled. JP got his first wave, pulled into a barrel on the inside and got caught by the lip at the end and came up with a broken board. The 6'8" bonzer that was to be his primary board while in WA was busted, clean in half...bummer.
Another guy paddled out to the lineup at the top of the break and told me that "my friend had broken his board" and my heart sank...not only did John have a long swim ahead of him to get back in, but that board was one that he was so proud of and excited to ride at these 2 left hand speedy fast barrels. When i came in from my session i found JP in good spirits, he had gotten over the initial shock and anger of the broken board and settled into the fact of the matter...so it goes.
JP and i were on it despite the crowd, leaving the unpacking and setting up camp for later, enjoying the salt water bath and washing off all the road dust and working out the cramps in our rumps from the 16 hour drive done in 2 days. When we returned to camp we set up John's tent in the dark, deciding that we would readjust it in the time that tomorrow would provide, though JP would end up leaving the tent in that very spot for the rest of the 2.5 weeks we were there, settling in and adjusting his sleeping position to accomodate the rocks that were not cleared out in the dark on that first night.
The next 2 days provided pumping 4 foot swell and consistently good surfing conditions with good winds. Our camp site right in front of the point allowed us to keep a close eye on the traffic to and from the point, so that we were on it at all the best opportunities with the least amount of people in the water.
JP quickly settled into the pace of life at The Bluff...mellow. He had a good book to read and the surf was pumping, so with 3 sessions of surfing a day, there was little else to do besides enjoy oneself. Until we went to Gnaraloo...
JP had heard me talk so much about The Bluff that when we pulled up to Gnaraloo, another perfect left hand point break just 34km north of The Bluff, he could hardly believe his eyes. It was pretty good, but the swell was backing off and the sets were pretty inconsistent, so we paddled out with low expectations, just wanting to get out there, enjoy the sunshine, and get a few while the wind came up and the crowd dwindled. JP got his first wave, pulled into a barrel on the inside and got caught by the lip at the end and came up with a broken board. The 6'8" bonzer that was to be his primary board while in WA was busted, clean in half...bummer.
Another guy paddled out to the lineup at the top of the break and told me that "my friend had broken his board" and my heart sank...not only did John have a long swim ahead of him to get back in, but that board was one that he was so proud of and excited to ride at these 2 left hand speedy fast barrels. When i came in from my session i found JP in good spirits, he had gotten over the initial shock and anger of the broken board and settled into the fact of the matter...so it goes.
29/08: Back to The Bluff...
JP and i have just pulled into Carnarvon, Northwest Australia. We are 2 of a few of surfers making our way through town and gathering supplies; the produce shop for fresh veg, the bottle shop for cans and grape juice, the grocery store for food stuffs, the internet for a final touch and go with the emails, and finally the fuel depot for a full tank plus 2 jerry cans for outback exploring. We see the other surfers preparing their rigs as we bounce around town from one supply center to the next.
There is a good swell on the way, should last 3 days, starting today, and show John the potential of the place, so i am very excited. We are buying supplies for 2 weeks, but not sure how long we will stay...though John needs to be back at the Perth airport on the 20th of September. Deadlines have worked well for me on this trip, keeping me moving along at a steady, though not to fast, pace of life and travel.
And we're off...the best to all of you.
There is a good swell on the way, should last 3 days, starting today, and show John the potential of the place, so i am very excited. We are buying supplies for 2 weeks, but not sure how long we will stay...though John needs to be back at the Perth airport on the 20th of September. Deadlines have worked well for me on this trip, keeping me moving along at a steady, though not to fast, pace of life and travel.
And we're off...the best to all of you.
26/08: My Birthday...
...and a happy day it was. Surfed 3 sessions. Woke up in the van, side by side with John, both of us wrapped up tight in mummy-bag sleeping bags. Slide open the dewey van window to see double overhead+ Margaret River main break, early morning blustery offshores, and bumpy conditions. I surfed it for an hour before heading up to town to get the exhaust leak repaired on the van (she sounds like a Mexican Bus with no muffler), but the part is not in at the mechanics shop yet...so back down to the coast to check a new spot, Ellensbrook Bombie, going off, and big. The wind drops off to a light offshore and we have 2 hours of huge left perfection, big sets, just myself, John, and one other guy who was so happy to have someone else out with him. Then the wind went a little too south and sea breezes killed it, opting to go in for a leftover curry on rice lunch on the overlook. Then north to Gracetown to surf South Point, super fun left hander with protection from the south wind, a take off in front of the rocks feel, with a soft and fun wall, kinda like Deadman's meets The Fort. We enjoyed sunset out there, waiting for the sets, getting a few good ones.
Burritos for dinner, tea and biscuits for dessert, too tired to read more than a chapter of my book before crashing. I got one present. John gave me a book on The Bluff that we were admiring in the book store on a walk through town the other day, sneaky guy got away and got it for me as a surprise. It was a perfect day.
But the real "presence" that i received were having John down here with me, seeing dolphins take off deep on double overhead sets and launching out the back of the wave on the inside, the seals that were warming their flippers in the sun, super friendly Aussies ready to talk, check out your surfboard, or in the case of one old fella, practice the rehearsed rant on American politics that he had been practicing in front of the TV at home. Good times on the road.
Happy Birthday.
Burritos for dinner, tea and biscuits for dessert, too tired to read more than a chapter of my book before crashing. I got one present. John gave me a book on The Bluff that we were admiring in the book store on a walk through town the other day, sneaky guy got away and got it for me as a surprise. It was a perfect day.
But the real "presence" that i received were having John down here with me, seeing dolphins take off deep on double overhead sets and launching out the back of the wave on the inside, the seals that were warming their flippers in the sun, super friendly Aussies ready to talk, check out your surfboard, or in the case of one old fella, practice the rehearsed rant on American politics that he had been practicing in front of the TV at home. Good times on the road.
Happy Birthday.
8/25/08...day before my birthday, and i have been working closely with mother nature for the past few days to put together something nice, not to fancy, just a little get together with me, John, and a few acquaintances from down here in Margaret River, SouthWestern Australia. The buoys are forecasting a 9' swell with a dominant 16 second period. That means big and good and consistent waves breaking with peeling perfection at multiple reef break surf spots, groomed to a "T" with love from the prevailing winds coming from the North Easterly direction...straight offshore baby.
Looks to be a good year.
We are feeling really on top of our game these last few days...a section of pipe has rusted through on the muffler and the van now sounds like one of those suped-up racing cars that annoys you went stopped next to one at at stop light...yeah, we're those guys. All scheduled up to have that taken care of tomorrow though at a local mechanic's garage here in Margaret River. Conveniently located next to fine breakfast eatery and conveniently timed for the post dawn surf session, when we will enjoy my 32nd birthday breakfast while the van gets its muffler refitted.
Living in the van with John has been a little tight, but not so bad as i had anticipated. He is, like me, a minimalist by nature, but with ONLY 7 surfboards to juggle around the car (one of my boards is getting a broken fin re-affixed in Perth) and not the 8 we would normally have...things are quite cozey. It has been cold, especially the first night we arrived down here from Perth, so we have been able to mummy bag it side by side and not really bother each other at night. We sleep in the parking lot at the aptly named Surfer's Point, and wake up each morning to the sight of the surf, and slowly get our bodies loose and our wetsuits on for the cold morning surf (We are wearing 3/2's, so it's not really that cold, i am just coming off of 2 months in Indo, and John is from Hawaii, so we are both being what we would call, "kind of wussie").
We meet a lot of nice people in the parking lot, locals and travellers alike. John is getting lots of attention with his 5 fin Bonzer boards and his 6'1" self manufatured "balsa beauty". But life in the van is just conspicuous and Aussies are just generally nice people, so lots of conversations are enjoyed around the van and carpark, and we are never bothered by local authority (Though word has it in the summer it can get a bit tense with more patrols, sending the van residents, and there are many, into hiding).
Looks to be a good year.
We are feeling really on top of our game these last few days...a section of pipe has rusted through on the muffler and the van now sounds like one of those suped-up racing cars that annoys you went stopped next to one at at stop light...yeah, we're those guys. All scheduled up to have that taken care of tomorrow though at a local mechanic's garage here in Margaret River. Conveniently located next to fine breakfast eatery and conveniently timed for the post dawn surf session, when we will enjoy my 32nd birthday breakfast while the van gets its muffler refitted.
Living in the van with John has been a little tight, but not so bad as i had anticipated. He is, like me, a minimalist by nature, but with ONLY 7 surfboards to juggle around the car (one of my boards is getting a broken fin re-affixed in Perth) and not the 8 we would normally have...things are quite cozey. It has been cold, especially the first night we arrived down here from Perth, so we have been able to mummy bag it side by side and not really bother each other at night. We sleep in the parking lot at the aptly named Surfer's Point, and wake up each morning to the sight of the surf, and slowly get our bodies loose and our wetsuits on for the cold morning surf (We are wearing 3/2's, so it's not really that cold, i am just coming off of 2 months in Indo, and John is from Hawaii, so we are both being what we would call, "kind of wussie").
We meet a lot of nice people in the parking lot, locals and travellers alike. John is getting lots of attention with his 5 fin Bonzer boards and his 6'1" self manufatured "balsa beauty". But life in the van is just conspicuous and Aussies are just generally nice people, so lots of conversations are enjoyed around the van and carpark, and we are never bothered by local authority (Though word has it in the summer it can get a bit tense with more patrols, sending the van residents, and there are many, into hiding).
17/08: Indonesian Independence Day
I arrived Padang, Sumatra from out at sea on a boat trip the morning of August 17th, Indonesian Independence Day. I had planned my departure from Padang based on this, delaying my flight until the morning of the 19th. One of the first things we noticed on arrival to port was the 10m tall coconut tree that had been smoothed down from bottom to top with a criss-crossed support bolted into the pole about a meter from the top. A piece of wood was nailed up around the circumference of the 4 criss-crossed points making a ring from which presents are hung. When the pole was later set into the ground in a park next to our hotel, the height of the presents was a good 8-9 meters high, a deadly distance for a fall or mishap.
To keep it interesting, the pole is then greased down...yep, greased down with black slimey, oozey, nasty grease and then teams of about 10-12 men attempt to scale the pole. They do this in a climb on me and up over him, and then stand on him fashion, which usually resulted in a crumbling and sliding down of the whole group when the bottom guy couldn't take it anymore or the second or 3rd man up slipped and slided down the pole or off the shoulders of his support man. It would take a pyramid of 6 men to reach the top and when they did, the top man had to grab onto the criss-cross and pull himself up to rest on it because the applaus of the crowd would signal to the bottom man that he could release his cornerstone duties and all support mechanisms slid gracefully down the pole from their positions.
This would leave the summiteer alone and perched, allowed to pull down any 3 hanging presents from the stash. There were about 30 small boxes, bags, and trinkets hanging, but the last and final present, the Grand Prize, the want and desire of every Indo in Padang, was a bicycle, strapped to the pole above the criss-cross. I saw 2 of these pole climbing ceremonies go down, one in the morning for the kids and one in the afternoon for the adults, the kids one being half as tall, but both yielding bicycles as the ultimate prize. Who wouldn't want free transportation in this age of the price-soaring and dwindling dinosaur product.
Watching the Indos go after the pole over and over again for hours, occassionally reaching the top, then regreasing the pole for added difficulty, was just classic. There was quite a crowd gathered and cheering, eating and drinking, enjoying a complete day of rest and relaxation in a normally bustling city.
check the pics in the Indonesia - Island living album under images...classic.
To keep it interesting, the pole is then greased down...yep, greased down with black slimey, oozey, nasty grease and then teams of about 10-12 men attempt to scale the pole. They do this in a climb on me and up over him, and then stand on him fashion, which usually resulted in a crumbling and sliding down of the whole group when the bottom guy couldn't take it anymore or the second or 3rd man up slipped and slided down the pole or off the shoulders of his support man. It would take a pyramid of 6 men to reach the top and when they did, the top man had to grab onto the criss-cross and pull himself up to rest on it because the applaus of the crowd would signal to the bottom man that he could release his cornerstone duties and all support mechanisms slid gracefully down the pole from their positions.
This would leave the summiteer alone and perched, allowed to pull down any 3 hanging presents from the stash. There were about 30 small boxes, bags, and trinkets hanging, but the last and final present, the Grand Prize, the want and desire of every Indo in Padang, was a bicycle, strapped to the pole above the criss-cross. I saw 2 of these pole climbing ceremonies go down, one in the morning for the kids and one in the afternoon for the adults, the kids one being half as tall, but both yielding bicycles as the ultimate prize. Who wouldn't want free transportation in this age of the price-soaring and dwindling dinosaur product.
Watching the Indos go after the pole over and over again for hours, occassionally reaching the top, then regreasing the pole for added difficulty, was just classic. There was quite a crowd gathered and cheering, eating and drinking, enjoying a complete day of rest and relaxation in a normally bustling city.
check the pics in the Indonesia - Island living album under images...classic.
I have been staying out in the village of Katiet, local population of maybe 300, on the island of Sipora. There is a right hand wave there called HT's, short for Hollow Trees, that is a wave of consequence...very shallow and very powerful, and thus, very good... I got HT's pretty good a few days, but I ended up more often than not just watching huge swells come through with poor winds and unruly, savage, closing-out-death barrels that needed offshores to function. So lots of waiting for the winds to change in the afternoon, which they often do...but not so often this year...but i did get it on a few days. I also got Lance's Left unreal, a left hand wave on the other side of the peninsula, about a 1 hour and 20 minute walk along a paved path, through the bananna and taro fields of Katiet, over the mountain to the beach, and up the beach to the reef. Lance's Left has actually become a better wave since the last time i surfed it, better because since the reef lifted about 1/2 a meter last september from the quake the wave walls up and has more barrels than it used to have. HT's, on the other side was not affected by the lift though.
I was supposed to leave HT's on tuesday this week and go north on a speedboat for $50 to Sioban to catch a $1.50 ferry from Sioban to Tua Pajet, where telescopes is, to catch a ferry back to Padang on mainland Sumatera on Wednesday. But i heard from a boat that came through HT's about a new swell supposed to build on tuesday, so i hired a speedboat to take me all the way up to Tua Pajet on wednesday for $100 hoping to score some last waves on tuesday...and it was worth it...i got the $100 barrel on tuesday afternoon.
Winds got good for 2 hours and as the swell built and the tide filled in the office began to work...the office is what they call the take off at the top of the reef, there are 7 different take off spots depending on tide and swell direction. There was a small crowd out and there were some really good waves coming through in the sets as the swell built, so i was really taking my time, waiting through the pack to get my turn at the top of the line, then taking my time to pick the good ones. So, this one looked good, peaking deep in the office with a clean wall and a perfect taper to the lip of the wave, a sure sign of a clean and open barrel. I dropped in, pumped for speed and was immediately deep, real deep, in the tube. My friend Brock was paddling out in the channel and couldn't even see me inside the barrel. I was deep in the first section, then the second section...riding on the foam ball, i literally felt myself leave the face of the wave, the rail of my surfboard coming loose from the face of the wave, and my board lifting and increasing in speed. At this point the almond eye, the opening of the barrel, was bending and shrinking ahead of me, but i was determined and held my feet and center of gravity. Then the weightlessness faded as the foam ball pushed me back onto the face of the wave and i set my rail again, the second section contorting and dredging on the shallow reef to open and spit me out, blown out of the tube by the air and water compressed inside the barrel of the wave...gliding right toward Brock who was smiling and looking at me saying "that was the one"...i came off that wave with so much speeed, just gliding for so far, adrenaline pumping through me like electricity, thrilling. The entire 3 and a half weeks of waiting for this wave to work totally validated in just one wave.
I went on to break my board taking a lip on the head a few waves later when the wind changed for the worse and the conditions deteriorated...I had never snapped a board in my life...i broke 2 this last week. It was pumping.
I was supposed to leave HT's on tuesday this week and go north on a speedboat for $50 to Sioban to catch a $1.50 ferry from Sioban to Tua Pajet, where telescopes is, to catch a ferry back to Padang on mainland Sumatera on Wednesday. But i heard from a boat that came through HT's about a new swell supposed to build on tuesday, so i hired a speedboat to take me all the way up to Tua Pajet on wednesday for $100 hoping to score some last waves on tuesday...and it was worth it...i got the $100 barrel on tuesday afternoon.
Winds got good for 2 hours and as the swell built and the tide filled in the office began to work...the office is what they call the take off at the top of the reef, there are 7 different take off spots depending on tide and swell direction. There was a small crowd out and there were some really good waves coming through in the sets as the swell built, so i was really taking my time, waiting through the pack to get my turn at the top of the line, then taking my time to pick the good ones. So, this one looked good, peaking deep in the office with a clean wall and a perfect taper to the lip of the wave, a sure sign of a clean and open barrel. I dropped in, pumped for speed and was immediately deep, real deep, in the tube. My friend Brock was paddling out in the channel and couldn't even see me inside the barrel. I was deep in the first section, then the second section...riding on the foam ball, i literally felt myself leave the face of the wave, the rail of my surfboard coming loose from the face of the wave, and my board lifting and increasing in speed. At this point the almond eye, the opening of the barrel, was bending and shrinking ahead of me, but i was determined and held my feet and center of gravity. Then the weightlessness faded as the foam ball pushed me back onto the face of the wave and i set my rail again, the second section contorting and dredging on the shallow reef to open and spit me out, blown out of the tube by the air and water compressed inside the barrel of the wave...gliding right toward Brock who was smiling and looking at me saying "that was the one"...i came off that wave with so much speeed, just gliding for so far, adrenaline pumping through me like electricity, thrilling. The entire 3 and a half weeks of waiting for this wave to work totally validated in just one wave.
I went on to break my board taking a lip on the head a few waves later when the wind changed for the worse and the conditions deteriorated...I had never snapped a board in my life...i broke 2 this last week. It was pumping.
I had arrived my new home in Katiet, a little village fatefully located for the last 200 years on one of the world's best right hand reef surfbreaks and only in the last 20 years exploited into a surfing colony, and was settling into my room at the Rumah (House) Tonong. The wave out front is commonly referred to as HTs, Hollow Trees, or Lance's Right and the stories of its discovery floating around the surfing community are as abundant in variety as the names for the singular wave. But that is another story.
I had spent the last week at the Rumah Diana, the second home of the industious family Tonong, run by the eldest daughter Diana. Rumah Diana is a home that boasts of all the modernities that creep into the Mentawais lifestyle in the modern times of economic success in these remote isles. Rumah Diana has tiled floors, a tiled and spacious overhung porch, 4 inside bedrooms with wooden doors and locks or drapes for security or just privacy from the main living area. Each bedroom has a window and wooden shudders with the enhanced security of steel bars to keep out thieves, should they exist. A spacious tiled kitchen with large dining area and an inside bathroom with a squatting toilet, a 1m diameter and very deep well for bathing water, and a drain in the floor for bathing inside.
Since Rumah Diana was my first experience of living with an Indonesian family I took many of these luxuries for granted. Arriving in Katiet at the original Rumah Tonong, I found that my new room was not attached to the main living area of the house, but rather had its own entry and locking door. There was a window to the outside, but it was a single side hinged window that had no bars for security so during the time i spent away from my room it had to remain closed, giving the room a somewhat repugnant odor from my wet surfboards and surfing clothes.
But the best part of it all came when upon unpacking my gear in my room i found that i needed to use the toilet, so i went outside around to the side of the house where I found the well for bathing, outside with no walls for privacy (I later saw the youngest daughter Erna, bathing fully clothed, interesting, but not easy), then I found the smoke house where copra from coconuts was smoked, but still i could find no toilet. I went inside the house into the main living area and found 3 bedrooms each with a curtain, but no door, and an open doorway into the dark kitchen with a low hung ceiling, but still no bathroom and not even a toilet.
Puzzled, i went back out front and found my Ibu (Ibu respectfully means mother in Indonesian and any elder Indonesian woman is pleased when warmly referred to by this name) and asked her "Ibu, kemana toilet?", translated as "hey Ibu, where can this silly American surferboy tourist find a squatting toilet." To which she laughed out loud with great belly filled joy and waved her hand toward the beach slowing the chuckle down just enough to say "pantai!", which means beach in Indonesian...classic.
This insanely beautiful white sand beach abundant in shells and overhung with palm trees, the kind of beach many of us grow up reserving in our minds for day dreams and which elicit words like paradise and perfection, was now my toilet...great. I would spend the evening visiting this beautiful beach about 5 times since the meal from the previous evening was not agreeing with me at all and my belly was spinning, gurgling and jumping for joy at the idea of visiting this beach again and again.
The next day i found the other use for the beach as i watched Ibu take the bucket of trash from the porch and dump it below the tide line. The bucket was the same one that i labored to throw all of my trash into so as to set an example for the Indonesians who have an awful culture of dropping their trash wherever they stand. Plastic bags, wrappers, paper, cigarette butts, you name it, it was all just dumped out on the beach and forgotten. Left to drift away in the night with the tide and well, my poop. And not just my poop, but most of the village's too. As i found each morning when i went to the beach, invariably i would see one of my other village friends on the beach squatting, some even waving their hand and yelling "selamat pagi Rol", or "good morning Earl", in a friendly and most casual manner that had not an implication of embarassment.
And so i learned that the Indonesian culture is one that keeps things simple, at all costs. This beautiful beach that is so magnificent and stunning to me was just simply their toilet and trash bin. Thus, it should have hit me with no surprise the next day when my "brother" Sandro and i were going to take the 5 minute walk down to the surf break and i suggested that we take the beach, he looked at me with a dismissal and said "no, we walk to the break through the village", and then he joked, "more girls this way..."
I had spent the last week at the Rumah Diana, the second home of the industious family Tonong, run by the eldest daughter Diana. Rumah Diana is a home that boasts of all the modernities that creep into the Mentawais lifestyle in the modern times of economic success in these remote isles. Rumah Diana has tiled floors, a tiled and spacious overhung porch, 4 inside bedrooms with wooden doors and locks or drapes for security or just privacy from the main living area. Each bedroom has a window and wooden shudders with the enhanced security of steel bars to keep out thieves, should they exist. A spacious tiled kitchen with large dining area and an inside bathroom with a squatting toilet, a 1m diameter and very deep well for bathing water, and a drain in the floor for bathing inside.
Since Rumah Diana was my first experience of living with an Indonesian family I took many of these luxuries for granted. Arriving in Katiet at the original Rumah Tonong, I found that my new room was not attached to the main living area of the house, but rather had its own entry and locking door. There was a window to the outside, but it was a single side hinged window that had no bars for security so during the time i spent away from my room it had to remain closed, giving the room a somewhat repugnant odor from my wet surfboards and surfing clothes.
But the best part of it all came when upon unpacking my gear in my room i found that i needed to use the toilet, so i went outside around to the side of the house where I found the well for bathing, outside with no walls for privacy (I later saw the youngest daughter Erna, bathing fully clothed, interesting, but not easy), then I found the smoke house where copra from coconuts was smoked, but still i could find no toilet. I went inside the house into the main living area and found 3 bedrooms each with a curtain, but no door, and an open doorway into the dark kitchen with a low hung ceiling, but still no bathroom and not even a toilet.
Puzzled, i went back out front and found my Ibu (Ibu respectfully means mother in Indonesian and any elder Indonesian woman is pleased when warmly referred to by this name) and asked her "Ibu, kemana toilet?", translated as "hey Ibu, where can this silly American surferboy tourist find a squatting toilet." To which she laughed out loud with great belly filled joy and waved her hand toward the beach slowing the chuckle down just enough to say "pantai!", which means beach in Indonesian...classic.
This insanely beautiful white sand beach abundant in shells and overhung with palm trees, the kind of beach many of us grow up reserving in our minds for day dreams and which elicit words like paradise and perfection, was now my toilet...great. I would spend the evening visiting this beautiful beach about 5 times since the meal from the previous evening was not agreeing with me at all and my belly was spinning, gurgling and jumping for joy at the idea of visiting this beach again and again.
The next day i found the other use for the beach as i watched Ibu take the bucket of trash from the porch and dump it below the tide line. The bucket was the same one that i labored to throw all of my trash into so as to set an example for the Indonesians who have an awful culture of dropping their trash wherever they stand. Plastic bags, wrappers, paper, cigarette butts, you name it, it was all just dumped out on the beach and forgotten. Left to drift away in the night with the tide and well, my poop. And not just my poop, but most of the village's too. As i found each morning when i went to the beach, invariably i would see one of my other village friends on the beach squatting, some even waving their hand and yelling "selamat pagi Rol", or "good morning Earl", in a friendly and most casual manner that had not an implication of embarassment.
And so i learned that the Indonesian culture is one that keeps things simple, at all costs. This beautiful beach that is so magnificent and stunning to me was just simply their toilet and trash bin. Thus, it should have hit me with no surprise the next day when my "brother" Sandro and i were going to take the 5 minute walk down to the surf break and i suggested that we take the beach, he looked at me with a dismissal and said "no, we walk to the break through the village", and then he joked, "more girls this way..."
I arrived last night to Padegat, a 21 hour journey from Padang via ferry. And what a ferry ride it was, a solid initiation to public waterway transport. I met some fellow surfers Alex and Uli at the port in Padang, i was sitting at the front to the ferry, just in front of the wheel house, with my boards, so stoked to be sitting on some mattresses wrapped in plastic to keep them dry. I was thinking this is great, I can stay with my boards AND have a bed to sleep on... Well, one hour out of Padang, the wind has picked up out of the south and the windswell was beginning to become a factor as the bow of the boat smashed the swells, throwing the spray in to the air, which was then carried up andover onto me, my boardbag, and the mattresses, so wisely wrapped in plastic.
So i decide that i must take shelter, we have a long way to go yet. In my haste to get below, i forgot to tie down mine and Alex's boards as i had intended to do, climbing down from my perch to the wooden deck to open the hatch to the below storage/sleeping area. I stepped in some noodles openning the hatch, thinking, what a strange place for noodles, someone must have spilt their dinner...
Upon opening the hatch I saw the ailing military Indonesian man, dressed in camo, and face looking sick, and i immediately knew who had spilled their dinner and how. I climbed down the steep steps and quickly realized my predicament. Not and inch of floor space lay available. I had to laugh at my naivete. When i had told Alex and Uli that i did not have a compartment, they both looked down and let out a sigh of pity. I was not phased, I knew i could take anything for one night, it's all just part of the traveller's game.
So i tried to sit where i was, but 3 more Indonesians who were on the front deck of the boat openned the hatch to come inside too, so now there was 3 of us sitting on the small stairwell. So i grabbed my bag to check out the rest of the boat, removing my sandals to step on the sleeping mats that everyone had spread out on the floor of pallets. The sides of the space were filled with cargo, and the middle full of people, laying on the pallets to keep them off of the trash and stink of the actual floor of the boat. I used my hands on the ceiling to hold onto the beams while i steped around the sleeping people to reach the back of the boat. On my way i found a spot on the cargo that looked OK, solid enough to lay on anyway, so i began to organize it to accomodate a bed, but was quickly halted by a man i recognized as part of the crew of the boat and he made it very clear that i was not to use the cargo as a resting place. I continued farther to the back of the boat, near to the toilet and the engine room, smelling of diesel, so i went up the steps to the second level where all the compartments were. There were people everywhere, every compartment and even their floors were taken, as well as all of the floor space in the corridors. I turned to the back of the boat and found that there was a back deck. a small walkway beside the stairs to the back of the boat was even occupied, so i had to step carefully over two sleeping men to reach the back deck, where i was immediately greeted by a gentleman who seemed to know a little bit of English..."Full, full, full..." he yelled at me, encouraging me to go somewhere else to find a place to sit for the night... And he was right, i peered outside and saw that the 2 storage boxes, one on each side of the door, the benches all the way around the back, and the floor were all as equally occupied as the rest of the boat.
I had to laugh again at my predicament, there was nothing else to do. I walked back down to the bottom, still nothing had opened up, so back upstairs. This time when i go to the back deck, the man who had yelled at me was laying asleep and his wife next to him caught my eye and pointed to my left, to one of the storage containers. I peered around the corner and saw to my delight that the Portuguese boogy boarder who had been hoarding one of the storage boxes all to himself, while 3 Indos shared the one on the other side of the door, was hanging himself over the rail of the boat, wretching with sea sickness and had thus opened up a small portion of the container, enough to set myself down on. I quickly sat down, legs crossed and found that i could wedge my shoulders between a life saving ring mounted to my left and the doorway trim to my right. After further inspection I found an overhanging beam above me and to the right that i was able to hang my backpack from with a climbing carribeener, providing further support on my right side for a place to rest my bobbing head.
I assumed this seated position for the next 6 hours, from 9 pm to 3 am, adjusting my legs and seated position regularly for some relief from the discomfort. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, meditating away from the discomfort and seasickness that surrounded me. At 3 am the poor Portuguese fellow was ailing badly and somehow a section of the bench on the otherside of the deck had become available. He toppled over the poor people on the floor and collapsed on the bench. For the first time all night I was able to lay down and using my backpack as a pillow I was able to get some shut eye until the sun came up.
At sunrise many of the Indos woke up to smoke cigarettes. Still no sight of land and i was certain that my surfboard bag had slid off the mattresses and over the edge of the boat somewhere along the way. As soon as i was feeling comfortable enough, I slipped through the sleeping crowd back to the front of the boat to check on my boards. Even though i was convinced that they were gone, some force of higher power kept them from moving even an inch from the force of the rough seas. Relieved, I left them figuring if they hadn't moved from all that, then they would make it a couple more hours. I returned to my seat, guarded by my backpack, and mysteriously enough, still available for me to sit back down.
I ate some biscuits that i had brought and drank some water and returned to my meditation of breathing deep to keep me feeling good and to wash away the time. At about 8 am, 13 hours into the 9 hour trip, we spotted land, and we were much farther north from our destination than we should have been, blown far off course by the strong SE winds. It took us another 2 hours to make up the distance we had been blown off course, finally pulling into port in Sioban after 15 hours of being beaten and humbled by the sea.
Not as exhausted as i had expected to be, I found Uli and Alex waiting in their compartment for all the Indos to unload in their hurried fashion. They invited me to join them for lunch, they knew a good place in town to eat, and off we set into the small port town of Sioban for lunch and a walk through the much anicipated Saturday market in Sioban, where everyone from all over Sipora comes to sell their goods and buy their supplies for the week.
So i decide that i must take shelter, we have a long way to go yet. In my haste to get below, i forgot to tie down mine and Alex's boards as i had intended to do, climbing down from my perch to the wooden deck to open the hatch to the below storage/sleeping area. I stepped in some noodles openning the hatch, thinking, what a strange place for noodles, someone must have spilt their dinner...
Upon opening the hatch I saw the ailing military Indonesian man, dressed in camo, and face looking sick, and i immediately knew who had spilled their dinner and how. I climbed down the steep steps and quickly realized my predicament. Not and inch of floor space lay available. I had to laugh at my naivete. When i had told Alex and Uli that i did not have a compartment, they both looked down and let out a sigh of pity. I was not phased, I knew i could take anything for one night, it's all just part of the traveller's game.
So i tried to sit where i was, but 3 more Indonesians who were on the front deck of the boat openned the hatch to come inside too, so now there was 3 of us sitting on the small stairwell. So i grabbed my bag to check out the rest of the boat, removing my sandals to step on the sleeping mats that everyone had spread out on the floor of pallets. The sides of the space were filled with cargo, and the middle full of people, laying on the pallets to keep them off of the trash and stink of the actual floor of the boat. I used my hands on the ceiling to hold onto the beams while i steped around the sleeping people to reach the back of the boat. On my way i found a spot on the cargo that looked OK, solid enough to lay on anyway, so i began to organize it to accomodate a bed, but was quickly halted by a man i recognized as part of the crew of the boat and he made it very clear that i was not to use the cargo as a resting place. I continued farther to the back of the boat, near to the toilet and the engine room, smelling of diesel, so i went up the steps to the second level where all the compartments were. There were people everywhere, every compartment and even their floors were taken, as well as all of the floor space in the corridors. I turned to the back of the boat and found that there was a back deck. a small walkway beside the stairs to the back of the boat was even occupied, so i had to step carefully over two sleeping men to reach the back deck, where i was immediately greeted by a gentleman who seemed to know a little bit of English..."Full, full, full..." he yelled at me, encouraging me to go somewhere else to find a place to sit for the night... And he was right, i peered outside and saw that the 2 storage boxes, one on each side of the door, the benches all the way around the back, and the floor were all as equally occupied as the rest of the boat.
I had to laugh again at my predicament, there was nothing else to do. I walked back down to the bottom, still nothing had opened up, so back upstairs. This time when i go to the back deck, the man who had yelled at me was laying asleep and his wife next to him caught my eye and pointed to my left, to one of the storage containers. I peered around the corner and saw to my delight that the Portuguese boogy boarder who had been hoarding one of the storage boxes all to himself, while 3 Indos shared the one on the other side of the door, was hanging himself over the rail of the boat, wretching with sea sickness and had thus opened up a small portion of the container, enough to set myself down on. I quickly sat down, legs crossed and found that i could wedge my shoulders between a life saving ring mounted to my left and the doorway trim to my right. After further inspection I found an overhanging beam above me and to the right that i was able to hang my backpack from with a climbing carribeener, providing further support on my right side for a place to rest my bobbing head.
I assumed this seated position for the next 6 hours, from 9 pm to 3 am, adjusting my legs and seated position regularly for some relief from the discomfort. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, meditating away from the discomfort and seasickness that surrounded me. At 3 am the poor Portuguese fellow was ailing badly and somehow a section of the bench on the otherside of the deck had become available. He toppled over the poor people on the floor and collapsed on the bench. For the first time all night I was able to lay down and using my backpack as a pillow I was able to get some shut eye until the sun came up.
At sunrise many of the Indos woke up to smoke cigarettes. Still no sight of land and i was certain that my surfboard bag had slid off the mattresses and over the edge of the boat somewhere along the way. As soon as i was feeling comfortable enough, I slipped through the sleeping crowd back to the front of the boat to check on my boards. Even though i was convinced that they were gone, some force of higher power kept them from moving even an inch from the force of the rough seas. Relieved, I left them figuring if they hadn't moved from all that, then they would make it a couple more hours. I returned to my seat, guarded by my backpack, and mysteriously enough, still available for me to sit back down.
I ate some biscuits that i had brought and drank some water and returned to my meditation of breathing deep to keep me feeling good and to wash away the time. At about 8 am, 13 hours into the 9 hour trip, we spotted land, and we were much farther north from our destination than we should have been, blown far off course by the strong SE winds. It took us another 2 hours to make up the distance we had been blown off course, finally pulling into port in Sioban after 15 hours of being beaten and humbled by the sea.
Not as exhausted as i had expected to be, I found Uli and Alex waiting in their compartment for all the Indos to unload in their hurried fashion. They invited me to join them for lunch, they knew a good place in town to eat, and off we set into the small port town of Sioban for lunch and a walk through the much anicipated Saturday market in Sioban, where everyone from all over Sipora comes to sell their goods and buy their supplies for the week.
30/06: Indo Baby
Arrived Indonesia with a few strokes of luck after arriving the Perth international airport to discover that Malaysia Airlines wouldn't issue me a boarding pass into Indonesia without proof of a departure flight within the allowed 30 day entry visa period...woo hoo, that put me into a rush trying to just book a cheap ticket to Singapore within 30 days of entry, even if i didn't use it, get in and get on my boat...hectic. Couldn't book a flight from the Perth airport and the plane was boarding, so they checked me into Kuala Lumpur and sent me off to deal with it there.
Arrived KL at 10 pm and straight to the Malaysian airways ticket desk, fortunately open until 11 and booked a return ticket to Perth, paying a little extra to get a ticket with enough flexibility that i can jsut change the date and utilize the fare.
So, with that fixed up i entered Indonesia in Medan, met my crew of guys sharing the boat, caught up with Dan-o, my Aussie buddy from a trip last year, his friend Harry, and the other boatmates: Josh and Allister, pro snowboarders from Oregon, Mark, a nurse on the Gold Coast, and Jimmy a cabinet maker from Melbourne. A solid crew of personable fellas all so stoked to get out and score some waves.
We boarded a small single prop plane, with the row of seats on the right side of the plane removed to fit all of our surfboard bags in, and took off for the Simeulue Islands, a 1 hour flight over the jungles of northern Sumatra and across 80 miles of gorgeous blue ocean. Arriving the islands via plane was fantastic, so beautiful to get a birds eye view of the reefs and various greens and blues that meet the islands covered in jungles of palms and hardwoods.
Loaded up the board bags on a truck and before we loaded the van to go to the harbor, Dano noticed that the boards weren't strapped down on the truck, just piled precariously high. So as they began to drive away, he hollered and stopped them, insisting that the boards get tied down. In classic Indo fashion they said they were going to go just down the road to where there was some rope...right. So we rigged some straps on the truck and set off, and with the bumpy road that lay ahead, it's certain that the boards would have gone topling off the truck in a matter of moments had we not tied them down...classic.
We arrived the harbor town and met our skipper, Marcus, at a restaurant where we sat at 2 tables and were served a rediculous amount of food set out in front of us in bowls, various dishes, with the bowls stacked on top of one another due to lack of space on the tables. Fish, chicken, tofu, goat, rice, veggies, eggs, spicy ones among not so spicy ones and then the oh so very spicy ones, so we picked at the dishes declaring the good ones and the ones to try sparingly.
Arrived KL at 10 pm and straight to the Malaysian airways ticket desk, fortunately open until 11 and booked a return ticket to Perth, paying a little extra to get a ticket with enough flexibility that i can jsut change the date and utilize the fare.
So, with that fixed up i entered Indonesia in Medan, met my crew of guys sharing the boat, caught up with Dan-o, my Aussie buddy from a trip last year, his friend Harry, and the other boatmates: Josh and Allister, pro snowboarders from Oregon, Mark, a nurse on the Gold Coast, and Jimmy a cabinet maker from Melbourne. A solid crew of personable fellas all so stoked to get out and score some waves.
We boarded a small single prop plane, with the row of seats on the right side of the plane removed to fit all of our surfboard bags in, and took off for the Simeulue Islands, a 1 hour flight over the jungles of northern Sumatra and across 80 miles of gorgeous blue ocean. Arriving the islands via plane was fantastic, so beautiful to get a birds eye view of the reefs and various greens and blues that meet the islands covered in jungles of palms and hardwoods.
Loaded up the board bags on a truck and before we loaded the van to go to the harbor, Dano noticed that the boards weren't strapped down on the truck, just piled precariously high. So as they began to drive away, he hollered and stopped them, insisting that the boards get tied down. In classic Indo fashion they said they were going to go just down the road to where there was some rope...right. So we rigged some straps on the truck and set off, and with the bumpy road that lay ahead, it's certain that the boards would have gone topling off the truck in a matter of moments had we not tied them down...classic.
We arrived the harbor town and met our skipper, Marcus, at a restaurant where we sat at 2 tables and were served a rediculous amount of food set out in front of us in bowls, various dishes, with the bowls stacked on top of one another due to lack of space on the tables. Fish, chicken, tofu, goat, rice, veggies, eggs, spicy ones among not so spicy ones and then the oh so very spicy ones, so we picked at the dishes declaring the good ones and the ones to try sparingly.
