Saying goodbye to Mexico and finally cutting Lachie loose for someone else to be responsible for, Pat and I felt a weight lifted of our shoulders. It was almost like giving your old dog to the doctor to be put down, so many great memories, but you know it’s the right decision. We flew to Indonesia for a 10 day Vipassana meditation retreat, in an attempt to spiritualise 14 months of stupidity and sin (for real though it was incredible and valuable so look into it).
The silence of the retreat ended and Pat flew to Philippines in a heartbeat to meet his French lover as 10 days of abstinence was really shaking him up, like Lachie when ignore him for more than a few minutes. I, on the other hand, spent 12 hours on transport to get to West Java to an small fishing village with some perfect waves. The word perfect here is obviously subjective, as for my abilities it meant a super slow, long and fat right-handers that peeled perfectly along a point. Indonesia was the last country before returning from my long stint abroad, my only hope was that i’d return with at least one new skill (surfing), as I rendered myself rather useless in everything else.
After being there for around three weeks, I had so many opportunities to reflect on just how rad this place is. Enthusiastic smiles from locals were more than common, the vegetarian cuisine of tofu, tempeh and veggies was not only cheap, but wholesome and delicious. Everyday I’d surf for 4-5hours, coconuts drunk seemed to correlate with hours spent in the water, likewise hours napping had the same relationship.
As I sat amongst the rows of palm trees, the sky painted a musky orange-pink from dusk, shortly after a long session in the warm waters, I called Lachie to see what’s up. He, by then, was in the Arctic Circle, layered up and embracing temps up to -30. It was a nice reminder knowing we we’re both so stoked it radically different environments, and again realising how diverse and insane our planet is. A little teary from saying goodbye to people I’d connected with so closely, I left for Bali, eager to find waves with similar stature to West Java.
After a couple of messy days in Canguu, I managed to gather together five mates equally keen to find some waves without 60 people in the lineup. We shot off towards Medewi, 2h North of canguu, and found another paradise. Bali’s longest left was pumping, and so was the nearby right-hander which was faster and shallower, tossing me about like Pat and has right hand on a lonely Tuesday night. With the beach break often barrelling, the big fat left hander going for 200-300m and the right hander moving fast between the sections, Medewi was the second most fun week I’ve had in my life, second to the week in an Airbnb with Pat, subsequently breaking most of the furniture. I was lucky enough to share it all with five other amazing Gals.. GIRLS TRIP YEW!
Not wanting to go home, I sussed out one more beach called Balian with a consistent a-frame going left for a 100-150m. With the only recorded shark attacks in Bali occurring here, my aversion to the notion of going home flipped and as I sat in the murky waters getting pumbled by the messy line-up, I couldn’t think of anything better than home. It only takes one good waves to make a session, or time spent in a place, totally fkn worth it. Thinking I’d get tossed around as a set came it, I landed my first proper left hand take-off on an intimidating steep wave. I got the most out of the ride zipping through the sections, most likely looking rather dysfunctional, but it left me so happy to be able to partake in such a fun sport.