The first real swell of my Bali trip struck the day after our dawn patrol session up north. In fact, that trip (chronicled in my previous post) was an effort to squeeze a bit of juice out of the beginning of this orange swell blob before it properly hit. When it hit the next day, the four of us were ready. Four now, because another one of Fab’s mates, Robert from Margaret River, had shown up and joined us.
We sped off mid-morning seeking the biggest best waves we could which were supposed to hit at a spot called Green Bowls, only a half hour ride from the hostel. We arrived to see a bit of a crowd and waves that looked subpar, at least from atop the cliff. Given this, we sped off in search of another break in the area with less people, finding one but realizing the waves were even worse there, we headed back.
The hike down the cliff wasn’t so bad but in the back of our minds we all dreaded the trip back up those hundred plus stairs. Nobody cared though, the waves looked big and great from the beach and the boys were frothing. I on the otherhand, was less stoked. My chest and stomach had been rubbed raw the previous day despite my rash shirt, and I was not in the mood to attempt a paddle into those big right handers I saw breaking far out on the reef, nor was I in any physical shape to honestly. So, I told Robbie, Lukas, and Fab to head out and I would shoot some more pictures and maybe paddle out later.
I spent the next hours sweating my face off and trying to find some sort of unique angle or composition to shoot as the guys tore it up (and got lit up by clean up sets) out on the horizon. By the time they came in, I had what I thought were a couple of good shots and enough sweat drenching my body to make it look as though I had paddled out with them. I never did paddle out, a fact I don’t regret in the slightest considering how painful my wounds would be over the next few days.
We bought coconuts from the Indonesian ladies who were pestering us in the cave. Like most beaches in Bali, no matter how high the cliff or how remote the sand, there will be a local down there trying to sell you something in exchange for watching your stuff while you surf. Honestly, its a great situation except for when the locals constantly badger you while you try to enjoy the beach as these ones did, coming up to us every couple of minutes to sell us coconuts and attempting to rub our backs and shoulders saying “Massage? Want massage?” which was quite annoying.
After our coconuts were consumed, we trudged up the baking hot steps to the parking lot and cruised back to food and the hostel to relax while the tides were unfavorably high. We decided to reconvene at low tide so Fab could take us to a spot nearby that would, according to him, be pretty good in those conditions. He was right.
We first went to Sunset Point, a spot on the cliffs of Uluwatu where people go to watch the sunset (quite the naming prowess hath whomever labeled that place), to assess the break which was along shore below. A shore that could not be accessed by foot, even at low tide.I nstead, we would have to hike that way from the staircase at Uluwatu, traversing sand for a bit but mostly sharp rock and corel, and then finally leap off the rocks into the surf before paddling for a while along the cliffs to where the reef crafted a beautiful left hander.
I was at first unsure if I was willing to do this paddle on account of my gnarly rash, but upon seeing the break from the cliffs, I knew I couldn’t pass on the opportunity. After all, I am a goofyfoot and lefts are by far my favorite. Thus, I followed the other three down the stairs and on the long walk to the jump off point.
Now, I must preface this next part with some information regarding my previous experiences surfing. I have jumped off rocks into the waves before. Many times in fact have I walked down the rocky point abutting one of my favorite spots back home before leaping off the slippery round boulders onto my board. However, this time the jump off point was different, and that made all the difference.
The rock was sharp, with jagged edges and plenty a hook or snag for a surfers leash, unlike the round boulders I was used to back home. Thus, I did as I always do and, ensuring my leash was clear of my feet, hopped down about four feet into the churning water, timing it so the wave that had just broke would help me get out as it receded.
All was well for the first instant. Then my board was ripped from my hands and I proceeded to half-dive half-bellyflop into the foam and water below as the wave smashed into the cliff behind me. I knew immediately what had happened. I had stupidly neglected to hold my leash up as I jumped and it had caught on a sharp point of rock. There was no time for anger at my stupidity though as the next wave was already bearing down on me, preparing to smash me against the jagged rocks to my rear.
I swam as hard as I could to the cliffside I had jumped off as it was both closest and would allow for the easiest ascent. My leash had not snapped and held me somewhat close to the rocks which was probably a good thing in this case. Reaching the rocks a mere instant before the wave hit I grabbed onto the first holds I found and held on for dear life. I thought I would be alright but was mistaken. The wave ripped my hands from their respective grasps on the wet rock and pushed me backward on the uneven shelf of rock I had been crouched on .I managed to hold onto the shelf at least and prevent myself from falling to the storming water below but I would’ve had my torso torn up quite badly had I not been wearing a neoprene rash shirt that Robbie had loaned to me.
Once that wave had passed, I leapt to my feet, hastened by adrenaline, and scrambled up to where I had jumped from and where Lukas still stood. Lukas was a bit in shock and couldn’t have helped me anyway. He asked if I was all good and I said I thought so with a giant grin, gleeful to have survived. My board was a bit dinged and I later realized my hands both had big gashes cross the palms from when I was torn away from my perch my the wave. Nonetheless, I gathered my leash in hand, board under arm, and hopped right back in. This time successful, I paddled out to join Robbie and Fab at the break.
After that session, I did not regret for a moment my decision to head out, hand cuts and all. The break was insanely consistent, long, and fun. At first I had trouble because the board I was on was such an old, waterlogged, slow piece of junk, but after missing a couple of take-offs, I finally stuck a really late drop and pulled in to shoot down the line. The sun was lowering on the horizon and the cliffs were already bathed in a yellow-orange glow, adding to the whole experience of riding that beautiful dark blue wave.
I caught just a couple waves before deciding to begin my journey back to the cave at Uluwatu. Riding the last wave as far as I could north, I was filled with joy. Now THIS was what I had come to Bali for: perfect waves in a gorgeous setting with only a couple guys in the line-up for it was only Fab, Rob, Lukas, and I for pretty much the entire session.
Lukas decided to paddle back with me while Fab and Robbie stayed for a bit longer. This allowed us one more wave to ourselves before reaching the crowds at Uluwatu. I say ourselves because we both dropped in on the same wave and cruised around each other whooping and hollering toward the end of what had turned out to be a truly epic day.
