I arrived in Bali, already with plans to buy second hand boards from prospective sellers. On the afternoon I arrived, the swell was small, and I only had my fish hybrid, so I headed to Dreamland for a warm up session.
To my surprise, I found the waves at Dreamland so weak and mellow that when I popped up, I kooked up 2-3 waves. I consciously told myself to crouch lower to maintain my balance. It’s strange how you can progress in surfing on bigger, faster and more powerful waves, but returning to easier ones forces you to relearn what you’ve forgotten.
On the plus side, I found these waves so easy to catch since they broke so softly that I could just pick them up right before breaking, no sweat. This showed how far I’ve come since beginning my surf trip that I was no longer sweating the mellow waves.
The next day I woke up early before sunrise to try and surf Uluwatu before it got crowded. I asked someone leaving the surf how the waves were, and he replied “Pretty mediocre”. I was kind bummed, but determinedly walked across the massive reef at low tide to try and paddle out. Once I arrived at the edge of the reef, I stood there for a good 30 minutes, waiting for an opportunity to get into the line-up while watching the number of waves passing through. Unfortunately, he was right, and I only saw someone catching a wave every 10 minutes.
And so, losing my motivation to surf after waiting 30 minutes at the edge of the reef, I decided my potential to get scratches from the reef while exiting the surf wasn’t worth it for the mediocre surf. Plus, I felt super sleepy and felt like going back to bed. And once again, I felt defeated, albeit with a tinge of self-conflict with my motivation to surf, by the poor surf conditions.
Later that early afternoon, I went to check out a right hander called Green Bowl on the south coast of the Bukit Peninsular. Unfortunately, it was super blown out and after watching it for 45 minutes, I rode over to Bingin instead.
And it was surprisingly good! It was mid-tide when I arrived with a mild offshore wind, with most of the force shielded by the sheer cliffs. I saw a bunch of intermediates catching some smaller waves on the inside, and I knew I had a shot to catch a couple of fun ones. Actually, I only wanted to test out a new second hand board I bought the previous night, so I had zero expectations for this surf session, and I expected to just catch a couple of mediocre waves to feel the board.
As I expected, the lack of a rocker in the Al Merrick Gravy caused me to pearl on my first few take offs, and I had to readjust my takeoff timing and surfing style for the board. I finally took off cleanly on one wave but it closed out moments later as I hopped out the back.
As I waited patiently for another smaller inside wave, I saw a wall approaching me with no one else to compete for the takeoff. I turned towards the beach and threw in a couple of paddles, nothing too hard or strenuous although the wave wasn’t too steep and off I went down the line.
As I moved down the line, I saw the wall ahead of me starting to curl and throw forward, and based on my lip in the face lesson I learnt in Rote, I immediately crouched down, tucked in and grabbed my rail.
And true enough, I found myself properly within the barrel with my board properly behind the curtain falling by my side and ahead of me. Before that split moment, I saw the lip falling over with a small fork, and I had a concern that the lip closest to me would close out, but no, it didn’t, and if anything, it added to the imperfect beauty of the tunnel of water I found myself in.
I was ecstatic. For the first time, I saw a line straight to the clean and round exit. I knew that this could be my first proper barrel with a clean exit ever. In that fraction of a second, I experienced the ultimate intensity of delicate balance between my greatest hopes and fears, any surfer’s regular emotional state that ebbs and flows with each passing set while in the line-up, but brought to the fore and enhanced by a million times while it was still undecided if I would leave the belly of this beast unscathed and triumphant or tumbled out by the chaos of the rolling white wash.
Alas, it was not meant to be, all of my dreams and visions of success were interrupted as I felt a bump and felt myself punch through the lip and out of the barrel. As I continued grabbing onto my rail, desperate to stabilise my ride out and hopefully still ride out of the tube clean, I unfortunately fell off and somersaulted through the wash.
I was elated, although with a tinge of disappointment, knowing how close I had come to reaching my surfing goal that very afternoon. Strangely though, I was immensely satisfied, as I comforted myself with just the vision and experience of just being in the tube.
In that fraction of a second, I experienced the ultimate intensity of delicate balance between my greatest hopes and fears, any surfer’s regular emotional state that ebbs and flows with each passing set while in the line-up, but brought to the fore and enhanced by a million times while it was still undecided if I would leave the belly of this beast unscathed and triumphant or tumbled out by the chaos of the rolling white wash.
On to Keramas…
For the subsequent few days, I decided that I would surf at Keramas, considering that I was tired of left handers, and was hoping to possibly get barreled at what looked like a doable wave for me. So, I packed up all my surf equipment and spent a couple of nights in front of the break on the east coast of Bali.
As luck (or inexperience) would have it, I guessed that the best conditions at Keramas had just passed me several days before, and when I arrived at the break, so were my predictions true. Keramas is a very tide-sensitive break, that functions optimally on a rising tide in very light wind. On the day I arrived, the spring tide was half way into a neap tide and although the tide and winds were favourable, the swell was way too big for me level of surfing. Not to mention the lineup was crowded with very advanced surfers.
I spent 3 hours out that day, hoping to snag a couple of smaller waves, and my patience was rewarded, although I was then trying out another second hand board, a much more aggressive Webber shortboard, and so kooked up most of my late takeoffs.
The next day, the swell had dropped slightly and the size of the waves were much more doable for me, but the waves weren’t as clean as the rising tide had shifted later into the day. On my first successful takeoff, I didn’t generate speed fast enough and got wiped out by the white water. And immediately behind that, a massive set came through, pushing me right onto the shallow reef. I tried to duck dive a wave and felt my board *klunk* on the rocky bottom, and though to myself “great”.
I stood up and ran out of the break with bloody scratches on my feet. Inspecting my board, I observed a busted fin plug. I rolled my eyes in frustration, thinking to myself “Not again…”. I was really starting to get tired of this repeated mishaps and annoyances.
Thankfully, things got better on the second day, where I finally got two full rides. On the first one, I was surprised by the speed of Keramas, I felt myself going down the entire line, but the whole thing was over in 3-5seconds. I had covered a 100m+ distance in a blink of an eye. On the second one, I told myself I wanted to put in a couple of turns, so I speed pumped once, set up for a bottom turn, then unexpectedly flew out the lip of the wave due to the unexpected turning speed of my shortboard with a more aggressive rocker.
I had some fun at Keramas, but I was undoubtedly overshadowed by way too many experienced surfers and difficult surfing conditions. This lent me another important lesson: Lucking into suitable surf conditions for getting barreled is extremely circumstantial and opportunistic, especially for someone at my level who’s just starting to get barreled. One can get barreled when you least expect it, or get nothing at all when you’re expecting all of it.
There’s nothing to do but to accept the surf conditions, be patient and try to have as much fun as possible in the mean time.
