Surf journal entry -- Feb 23rd, 2005 -- Bali, Indonesia
My travel-mate, Brandon and I were eating lunch at a tiny warung when our friend, Diego, pulled up in a dirty, broken taxi. He'd just come from Lombok.
Diego smelled terrible. The tropical heat and lack of a/c was a deadly combination for armpit stank. My board shorts needed a wash. A surf session was a must. We set out on our rented motorbikes to score some waves.
Uluwatu was a joke. Fifty-six people in the water and head high. No way -- we opted for solitude.
The swell was significantly larger around the point. Ulu was head high, while the spot was easily double overhead. It was hard to tell atop the 150 foot cliff. From that height, the waves appear to break in slow motion.
The spot at a smaller, more peaceful moment
The spot faces almost directly south. The south coast of Bali's Bukit Peninsula sits just south of the equator. There is nothing between the reef and Antarctica.
She boasts a massive fetch of ocean. Usually she is huge and walled. From the cliff, it looked like a Teahuopu-like right was bombing onto the reef. The water being pushed by the waves was forming a massive rip current. Although there is no channel in the reef, the rip was working like a channel.
We hiked down the six hundred stairs for a closer look. While standing on the beach, I realized that it was much bigger than it appeared from the cliff.
It was easily the biggest surf we'd encountered in our two months in Indo. Triple overhead on the sets. 12-18 foot faces. Very technical, fast, thick, hollow and scary. Waves were breaking in sets of six or seven waves at short intervals. This was a serious swell.
Getting caught inside could mean trouble... and it did.
I felt under-gunned on the paddle-out. The largest board I have is a 6'4." I needed more board to paddle for the monsters.
We jumped in the rip -- easily the gnarliest rip-current I've ever seen. I was jittery just floating on my board. The water was moving so fast that 18-foot face waves were being mangled into slop by the flow of water rushing back to see. It was amazing just lying on my board. We named the rip Godzilla.
Godzilla would rage after each seven-wave set. Luckily for us, we could just sit in the rip and let it suck us back out. It was like a people-mover. A non-swimmer would be killed easily by Godzilla.
Growing up in Huntington Beach, we rarely get to surf triple-overhead waves. There's no reef in Huntington.
I learned two things about big waves. The first is that I couldn't follow my initial impulse. When I would see the first monster of a wave jacking on the reef, my knee-jerk reaction is to paddle like crazy to get over the thing before it breaks.
But the waves were so big that it was difficult to read them. It looked like they were going to break, but they were so massive that they'd begin to jack-up about 50 yards outside the impact zone.
It was very disorienting out there -- like being on another planet. After a while, we figured out that we'd need to stop paddling out and just hold our positions. That's when began riding the monsters.
The second thing I learned is that big waves (these were the biggest waves I had ever ridden) are like crack. I've never smoked crack, but after I pulled into a monster and made it to the shoulder, I was shaking.
Every muscle, every synapse in my mind was firing and twitching from the rush. Whatever had happened, the wave was big and freaky enough to release all kinds of chemicals into my body. My legs were a wreck, I was trembling uncontrollably and I felt exceptionally ***** good.
I needed more.
Then I got my ass handed to me.
A massive pulse of storm-filled fury was building on the reef. I paddled for the first monster. I almost caught it but I didn't. I quickly spun around after missing the first wave and watched as an 18-foot wall of water headed for my brain. I relaxed my mind for the beating that was sure to ensue.
The wave broke about 10 feet in front of me. This was bad. It was exactly the wrong place to be at exactly the wrong time. I tried to dive deep and held onto my board with a kung-fu grip. The washing machine was set to rinse and I was beaten like a blanket in a hurricane.
I relaxed and held my board. I knew it would surface faster than me. When I finally broke the surface, the next wave was cocked and ready. It exploded on my head. I had had time for one breath of air before getting pummeled underwater.
The second beating ripped the board from my hands, flipped me twice, threw me to the surface, sucked me to the bottom and flipped me again. I didn't have a chance to surface before the third wave slammed onto the reef. It was a serious hold down. I've had never been held down for more than one wave.
This is when the yoga and taichi and meditation practice is the most beneficial for surfing. If I had struggled or panicked, I'd easily be dead. I just relaxed and let the ocean do its thing. I knew I'd eventually end up floating back out on Godzilla. I dropped any fear of dying and trusted the water.
After I surfaced, I sucked in the best, cleanest, most beautiful lung-full of air ever. I immediately started laughing and waved to Brandon. He was watching me beyond the impact zone, making sure I was alright.
An hour later, after some of the most epic rides of my life, I rode a monster to clear to Godzilla and heard a yell for help. It was Diego, he was walking on the reef, holding his arm.
I caught a wave into shore to see what had happened. Diego's shoulder was popping out like a freak of nature -- it was a dislocation.
He needed a doctor to pop it back into place. He was in serious pain (grown-man crying kind of pain). I hollered to Paramedic Brandon to come and help. He paddled to shore, receiving a savage beating in the whitewater on the way in.
We made a sling out of two t-shirts to immobilize Diego's shoulder.
I ran up the six hundred stair cliff -- two steps at a time. The hold down earlier was shits and giggles compared to the cliff sprint. That was some serious *****. When I reached the hotel at the top, I was sweating like a pig, nobody understood what the hell I was saying, and a busload of Korean tourists was staring at me.
The view from the beach. Sprint that cliff and you'll feel it tomorrow.
After alerting the third-world ass-backwards medical system of Diego's unfortunate condition, I ran back down to the bottom and helped Diego to the top. When he reached the summit, the ambulance was waiting. They didn't have any drugs. I felt bad for Diego. He was in tremendous pain.
The ambulance ride would be another 45-minutes. He returned at 2 a.m. He was $600 poorer with a sore but functioning shoulder.
Diego didn't even hit the reef. He was flying so fast down one of the monsters that he'd dislocated his shoulder on the surface of the water. Amazing power in these waves.
A heavy day to say the least.
My travel-mate, Brandon and I were eating lunch at a tiny warung when our friend, Diego, pulled up in a dirty, broken taxi. He'd just come from Lombok.
Diego smelled terrible. The tropical heat and lack of a/c was a deadly combination for armpit stank. My board shorts needed a wash. A surf session was a must. We set out on our rented motorbikes to score some waves.
Uluwatu was a joke. Fifty-six people in the water and head high. No way -- we opted for solitude.
The swell was significantly larger around the point. Ulu was head high, while the spot was easily double overhead. It was hard to tell atop the 150 foot cliff. From that height, the waves appear to break in slow motion.
The spot at a smaller, more peaceful moment
The spot faces almost directly south. The south coast of Bali's Bukit Peninsula sits just south of the equator. There is nothing between the reef and Antarctica.
She boasts a massive fetch of ocean. Usually she is huge and walled. From the cliff, it looked like a Teahuopu-like right was bombing onto the reef. The water being pushed by the waves was forming a massive rip current. Although there is no channel in the reef, the rip was working like a channel.
We hiked down the six hundred stairs for a closer look. While standing on the beach, I realized that it was much bigger than it appeared from the cliff.
It was easily the biggest surf we'd encountered in our two months in Indo. Triple overhead on the sets. 12-18 foot faces. Very technical, fast, thick, hollow and scary. Waves were breaking in sets of six or seven waves at short intervals. This was a serious swell.
Getting caught inside could mean trouble... and it did.
I felt under-gunned on the paddle-out. The largest board I have is a 6'4." I needed more board to paddle for the monsters.
We jumped in the rip -- easily the gnarliest rip-current I've ever seen. I was jittery just floating on my board. The water was moving so fast that 18-foot face waves were being mangled into slop by the flow of water rushing back to see. It was amazing just lying on my board. We named the rip Godzilla.
Godzilla would rage after each seven-wave set. Luckily for us, we could just sit in the rip and let it suck us back out. It was like a people-mover. A non-swimmer would be killed easily by Godzilla.
Growing up in Huntington Beach, we rarely get to surf triple-overhead waves. There's no reef in Huntington.
I learned two things about big waves. The first is that I couldn't follow my initial impulse. When I would see the first monster of a wave jacking on the reef, my knee-jerk reaction is to paddle like crazy to get over the thing before it breaks.
But the waves were so big that it was difficult to read them. It looked like they were going to break, but they were so massive that they'd begin to jack-up about 50 yards outside the impact zone.
It was very disorienting out there -- like being on another planet. After a while, we figured out that we'd need to stop paddling out and just hold our positions. That's when began riding the monsters.
The second thing I learned is that big waves (these were the biggest waves I had ever ridden) are like crack. I've never smoked crack, but after I pulled into a monster and made it to the shoulder, I was shaking.
Every muscle, every synapse in my mind was firing and twitching from the rush. Whatever had happened, the wave was big and freaky enough to release all kinds of chemicals into my body. My legs were a wreck, I was trembling uncontrollably and I felt exceptionally ***** good.
I needed more.
Then I got my ass handed to me.
A massive pulse of storm-filled fury was building on the reef. I paddled for the first monster. I almost caught it but I didn't. I quickly spun around after missing the first wave and watched as an 18-foot wall of water headed for my brain. I relaxed my mind for the beating that was sure to ensue.
The wave broke about 10 feet in front of me. This was bad. It was exactly the wrong place to be at exactly the wrong time. I tried to dive deep and held onto my board with a kung-fu grip. The washing machine was set to rinse and I was beaten like a blanket in a hurricane.
I relaxed and held my board. I knew it would surface faster than me. When I finally broke the surface, the next wave was cocked and ready. It exploded on my head. I had had time for one breath of air before getting pummeled underwater.
The second beating ripped the board from my hands, flipped me twice, threw me to the surface, sucked me to the bottom and flipped me again. I didn't have a chance to surface before the third wave slammed onto the reef. It was a serious hold down. I've had never been held down for more than one wave.
This is when the yoga and taichi and meditation practice is the most beneficial for surfing. If I had struggled or panicked, I'd easily be dead. I just relaxed and let the ocean do its thing. I knew I'd eventually end up floating back out on Godzilla. I dropped any fear of dying and trusted the water.
After I surfaced, I sucked in the best, cleanest, most beautiful lung-full of air ever. I immediately started laughing and waved to Brandon. He was watching me beyond the impact zone, making sure I was alright.
An hour later, after some of the most epic rides of my life, I rode a monster to clear to Godzilla and heard a yell for help. It was Diego, he was walking on the reef, holding his arm.
I caught a wave into shore to see what had happened. Diego's shoulder was popping out like a freak of nature -- it was a dislocation.
He needed a doctor to pop it back into place. He was in serious pain (grown-man crying kind of pain). I hollered to Paramedic Brandon to come and help. He paddled to shore, receiving a savage beating in the whitewater on the way in.
We made a sling out of two t-shirts to immobilize Diego's shoulder.
I ran up the six hundred stair cliff -- two steps at a time. The hold down earlier was shits and giggles compared to the cliff sprint. That was some serious *****. When I reached the hotel at the top, I was sweating like a pig, nobody understood what the hell I was saying, and a busload of Korean tourists was staring at me.
The view from the beach. Sprint that cliff and you'll feel it tomorrow.
After alerting the third-world ass-backwards medical system of Diego's unfortunate condition, I ran back down to the bottom and helped Diego to the top. When he reached the summit, the ambulance was waiting. They didn't have any drugs. I felt bad for Diego. He was in tremendous pain.
The ambulance ride would be another 45-minutes. He returned at 2 a.m. He was $600 poorer with a sore but functioning shoulder.
Diego didn't even hit the reef. He was flying so fast down one of the monsters that he'd dislocated his shoulder on the surface of the water. Amazing power in these waves.
A heavy day to say the least.