Returning to Bali

"’tis impossible to be sure of any thing but Death and Taxes". So the saying goes. I was juggling the last minute packing and a late Tax return. The date was upon me and I had run out of time, maybe death is the option? Or maybe a quick phone call to the Tax Office. The first contact was combative.  She scolds me in her nasal tax monotone "I should have thought about this before going on holiday".  I ask for her manager and get 1.5 hours of hold transfer loops before accidentally getting cutoff.  Sheesh... try again later.

At the airport We are 2 civilians in a sea of Australian Army going to Fiji.  I wonder what that is about? Are we at war in Fiji?

Perched at the end of a row of plastic airport chairs, I cautiously phone the Tax Office. Get the story right and get it sorted. A bloke named Josh sorts the whole thing out.  This is more how it usually works.  Working together with business - smile.

On the plane now and the flight is long.  We are mixed in with some embarrassing Australians.  The bogans must go to Bali as part of a yearly mating migration.  Get into the uniform so the others can find you - Bintang singlet, shorts and thongs.   And sometimes the bogans are surfers too.  

Can a surfer be a bogan?  A philosophical question. I say "No".

We land into a customs nightmare.  Passengers walking like zombies with only one goal, escape into Bali.  We muddle through three stop start mazes. The "declaration of goods" is the forth test but we cut past this because we have done an online declaration before we left Australia.

Two hours later with boards and luggage we are in a car and going up to Uluwatu.  We stop for water and food.  My girlfriend shows her Asian enthusiasm "let's get some chicken noodles from the food cart."   I say "let's get some Bali Belly from the food cart." Bali Belly is not fun.  This checks her enthusiasm.

The excitement and timezone change has me up early.  3am, then 4am, then 5am.  I clip the fins into my gun and wait for the magic of overhead Ulus.

It's a 10 minute walk to Uluwatu across the pixel art road bridge with the two guardians at each side.  The belief is ghosts can't cross running water.  But a bridge must be guarded because the sprits could cross the bridge above the waters.  Bali is an island of ghosts.  I follow the dry skinny road with the watching gangs of dogs to the top of the Uluwatu staircases. The stairs are uneven and unplanned.  Twisting and turning like an M. C. Escher etching.

Monkeys are moving around the rooftops. I get surf-ready, then I see a scruffy metal pistol on the counter of the warung.  "Does it shoot gel bullets?".  The shop owner is all smiles, “no, metal bullets, but it is empty now.  I use it to scare off the monkeys.  They come to steal my bananas and mangos” he laughs.

Later in the day I see a hairy criminal swagger up to a guest as she sits eating her pancakes.  The warung owner appears, pistol pulled and pointed.  The monkey and his accomplices panic and run.

I ready for the waves, but I have 2 right foot booties, not a matching pair.  Nut’s, it will have to do.  I will surf with 2 right feet.  Is it like dancing with 2 left feet?

I make the mistake of going as far down the reef as I can with the current.  Man, it takes 40 min to paddle back up the reef.  I miss the cave entrance because of the sweeping current and end up at the bottom of the cliffs.  Walking the edge of the cliff I find myself in an Indiana Jones cave with rolling waves trying to scrub me along the coral walls.  I have to go up and over a section of the cliff and manage to carefully time a jumping drop back into a wave swirling cave so I can get back to the cliff tops.

Uluwatu is magic.  A big racing left hander.  It was big, but not crazy.  I got a decent double overhead wave. Took off, bottom turned and came off the top in a speed turn.  I had so much speed and the wave twisted so much that I was at high risk of catching a rail and coming off in a spectacular wipeout.  They call it 6 foot, but there are some triple overhead waves.

There is a commotion on the walk back.  A little girl is almost run over as she recklessly runs on to the road.  Thankfully she is not hit.  The family is distraught.  Europeans, maybe Germans. It reminds me of something one of the Indonesians told me.  "In Indonesia there is so many people.  Loosing a couple a day is no big deal." I will get a car tomorrow and I will drive slowly.

Got the car, it’s small and cost $15 to fill the tank.  Wow, back home my car cost $90 to fill.

Surfed “Secrets” yesterday on the Banks twin fin and got a couple of screamers.  One was double overhead plus and had three distinct “down the line” sections. I got so much speed in the sections that my board was skipping across the wave. Surfed for about 4 hours, it was so very good :)

Back out surfing at Secrets. I push further up the reef surfing near the Temple point, but get lonely and drift back down the reef.  I realise it would be better to surf with a buddy who can help if you get into trouble.

The swell starts to kick-in with the rising tide, front runners of a 4-6 foot swell deep from the Indian Ocean.  It is a dramatic rise and change in the situation.

Trouble!  I catch a bomb.   Double plus overhead.  I cut out in front as it sections and get clipped by the lip.  A heavy working with a hold down. The first thing that happens is one of my booties is gone, ripped with force from my foot.  I swirl around and around and think I will hit the reef, down down down. I keep calm and hold on.  Back to the surface and back out.

I get caught inside.  Big sets, the biggest yet. They close out the whole cliff section. I duck dive and then bail on one that is going to drop on my head.  Ping, my leg rope breaks.  Now this is heavy!  I get another 3 sets on the head.  I get held down so deep the water turns browny grey and the oxygen in the water makes it impossible to swim to the surface.  It’s lonely at Secrets, 2 or 3 guys.  No one to help if needed.  I am in front of the cliff with no way in.  The current pulls me to the big rock that sticks out at the end of the section.  I always pull off the wave before hitting it.  Maybe not this time as the current goes straight to it and I am on the reef edge with every wave dropping in front of me.

Luckily I get around the rock. I'm rolled by another 4 waves in top to bottom closeout mode.  I am hoping I can swim in against the point rip because it is about 1km to the Uluwatu cave.  No board, no one to help me.  Man this is a worry.  The inside seems to get even heavier.  It gets angry and shallow.  Deep water to a shallow closeout with water moving like it's a river. I get rolled in underwater and I have made it.  But my board, it’s gone.  The $1200 Jim Banks twin fin.  My best board.

Nothing for it but to swim and hop down the inner reef with my one bootie until I get back to the cave. But it's good to be alive.

The locals in the surf photography shop ask “No board?”  Nope.  “Where were you surfing?  Oh the board will be up the point, but smashed by the rocks.  Maybe look from the top of the cliffs."

I drag myself to the warung and have a coffee and some banana pancakes.  After this, I go down to the cave and attempt to walk up the reef, but the tide is too high.  Cut my losses.  Losing the twinfin is better than losing my life.  A Bali life tax? A karma payment? Maybe.

Back at the accommodation I am contemplating life whilst on the toilet.  I hear a creaking sound. There it is again! I lookup to see a monkey staring at me from the window sill.  "Get out of here!" I yell.  Damn I have no gun but off she goes.  The troop goes past and each looks in at the crazy white monkey sitting on the toilet. "He is so funny looking."

This evening the car will not start.  I left the lights on because I had been driving with the lights on, but it killed the battery.  The car people will fix it up in the morning.

The surf at Secrets today is smaller but it will pump on Thursday.  I am more careful to keep right on the corner in front of the end section rock.  Riding my 6'4" Sharp Eye.  We have our moments, but it makes me work to make sections, which is not how I like to surf.

In the afternoon we take the car to the Gates of Heaven Lempuyang Temple (Pura Penataran).  It’s a 5-6 hour round drive on the Sega Bali Rally.  The temple is nice and the carvings are excellent.  This is one of the "six sanctuaries of the world", the six holiest places of worship on Bali.

This was a disturbing experience.  We were charged at every opportunity.  Car park, bus up the mountain to the temple, entry into the temple. But I did love the temple, the outlook and the history.

When you pay for entry you get a photo taken of you in front of the gates overlooking the volcano Agung.  The outlook is impressive.  It's a must have for everyone's Instagram stories.  I watch the different nationalities go up and pose in front of the gates whilst the photographer calls the photos.  "Got it, now with your arms out.  Got it, now jump."  Muscle man poses.  A James Bond with hand pistol.  Yoga poses. I am so big look at my arm span.  Dancing poses.  Watch us walk hand in hand towards the gate.  It is so fake.  I hate this fake shit.  Everyone look at me, my life is so good, see my instagram stream.  And the poses, I would be embarrassed to do them, it is messed up in the extreme.  Ironically I allow my girlfriend to talk me into one shot, and then decline the rest.  She says, “now you should change your Facebook profile picture“.

My girlfriend does the whole pose thing except for the jump.  She loves social media.

We have moved to a new accommodation.  It is further from the breaks, quieter and inside a compound.  There are 4 rooms with ensuite bathrooms and shared kitchens and pool.  It was a bit of a mission to find, but it is so much more quiet and nice.  We pull the front gate to keep the dogs out.  This area of Bali is arid. Little rain and no springs.  All the water comes in on wheezing, wobbling water trucks.

It’s Thursday.  We have been in Bali for one week now.  The new place is quiet and the morning starts with a chorus of rooster calls mixed in with dog barks.  There are new sounds and some old ones.  The roosters and dogs sound the same as home, but the geckos and some birds have an Indonesian flavour.

Alert. A major swell is inbound.  Get out the gun.  Uluwatu will be too big so I am thinking about Impossibles but end up at Balangan.

To rock off at Balangan you time the sets and dart out from behind the point, jumping into the oncoming waves and hoping you don’t get cleaned up by a sneaker set.

This surf has its moments.  When you see a triple overhead set about to drop directly in front or on top of you, you start to question life decisions.  Also, the sets come in threes or fours.  The second set wave seems the biggest.

I got five or six hold downs.  It's not so fun, but part of the big wave experience.  I console myself with the knowledge that if I lose my board the swim will be okay and the board will be recoverable from the inside reef.

When you are held underwater for a long time, you don't actually run out of oxygen in your blood. It is the build up of CO2 that makes you want to breeth in fresh air again. You actually need the excess CO2 out of your system rather than the oxygen in. You can fight the urge to breeth and hold your breath, but it does get unpleasant.

I also get five or six long waves.

Swells dropped and I am back on the SharpEye.  Surfed Balagan this morning, just 4 of us out at dawn.  It was good fun and this board is good in the pocket.  It actually cuts back and allows me to do manoeuvres.  My best wave included a snap to free fall over the inside suck then three hacks.

I will hit Ulu’s this afternoon as the swell fades.

I hit Ulu’s and Ulu’s hit me.  It was a constant paddle to keep position in a competitive lineup.  I ended up being in position on an overhead wave and paddled into it.  The wave hit the ledge and dropped out underneath me, so I free fell trying to make take off.  I went around the world twice before touching down on my upper thigh and buttocks.  I was glad to see the damage was not too bad, but went in.  My board shorts now have holes and rips to match my injuries.

Surfing with Anthony at Balangan was okay.  Anthony is our French accommodation owner.  I drive him to the break in the morning.  We surf and get some good waves.  His board is bigger than mine and he gets better waves as he has the paddle power.  I stop being able to make the 1st section and decide to go in.  I wait another 1 hour+ for him to come in.  Cheeky French bastard.

I notice a guy in bright tight pink pants with a cloth tied around his head.  He stands out as unusual.  The next day I notice him asleep under the warung on the beach with his single fin surfboard.  He has been sleeping into the morning and violently awakes as a dog pees on him.  He is very sunburnt and uses the warung's toilet, but seems to have no money.  He looks European or maybe Brazilian. A homeless mess in Bali.

Anthony has brought a girlfriend back to the accommodation and they are having noisy sex.  They echo through all rooms in the accommodation. It is funny at first but quickly becomes off putting.  Man, this guy his not a professional host.

We were driving up the Uluwatu hill and a scooter in front of us slipped over and dumped the family of three onto the road.  The  man driving slapped down hard onto the tar and his wife and kid hit down behind him.  No helmets, but no visible blood.  The mum grabbed up the boy and ran him to the side of the road.  They had been trying to avoid a foreigners car that was out of petrol on the hill section when the scooter hit some water, or maybe oil and lost traction. Scooters are dangerous.  No armour against the road.  I shake my head when I see a family of foreigners with kids on the next two scooters coming down the road.  Why wouldn't they just get a car?