How do you cry "HELP" in Indonesian
  
 

by Peter Neely - Indo Surf & Lingo

 

  
  I didn't hear about the great right-hand reef-break of Nusa Dua until I was already on the plane heading home from my first trip to Bali in April 1975. The previous week I'd struggled in on-shore slop at Kuta Beach, while unknown to me Nusa Dua, on the other side of the island, was 8 foot, glassy and uncrowded. Feeling like an idiot on the plane home, I realised I'd missed out heavily!

  
  My next trip to Bali was at Christmas 1977, and I was determined to check out this fabled long, powerful right-hander. However, Kuta was offshore for my first week, so I warmed up in the Legian beachbreaks before venturing out to score excellent Kuta Reef. Once I even got to surf Kuta Reef totally alone at 6 foot plus. Although hollow reef waves still scared me with their power and thickness, I felt I was ready to now tackle Uluwatu. But the next morning the wind had swung around to onshore, which meant it would be offshore on the other side of the island at Nusa Dua

  
  So I hopped on my rented 100cc motorbike and headed eagerly towards Nusa Dua. This was before the luxury tourist development, and the old road was terribly corrugated, making it a one-hour torture-trip, rarely out of second gear. The board carry-strap cut into my shoulder as I hit every mud-filled pothole. Huge construction trucks roared past spraying mud and stones into my face, but I persevered with thoughts of perfect, uncrowded rights in my mind. I had been told in hushed tones that Nusa Dua was the Sunset Beach of Bali, often very big and always thick and powerful. Today I felt ready for the challenge.

  
  The Nusa Dua village back in 1977 was just a small collection of mostly bamboo thatch houses lining a dirt track. I got lost a couple of times before finding someone who spoke a little English. For the Nusa Dua locals it was still a unique sight to see a visiting surfer. At least a hundred schoolkids raced out to line the little dirt track, waving and smiling as I rode by. I tried to wave back, while dodging potholes and keeping my board from floating out into the oncoming traffic. "Hello Mister" was the extent of their English. Their big smiles made me wish I could stop and chat, but I spoke no Indonesian then, so all I could do was just smile and ride past. For many years after, that street was known to all surfers as "Hello Street".

  
 
 
 
Finally arriving at the beach, I was confronted by a wide lagoon with waves breaking far out to sea on a coral reef. The reef was easily the furthest out of any I had ever seen, well over 500 metres from the beach to the breaking waves. The only person on the beach was a Balinese guy named Made who I later got to know quite well and regard as a good friend. But this first time at Nusa Dua, he just waved me over to his empty little warung on the sand, smiling a greeting to the first surfer he had seen in ages. It was the start of the surf season on the Nusa Dua side of the island. "Hello. Is this Nusa Dua?" I asked, probably sounding like a real kook. "Yes, this Nusa Dua. Wave not very big today." I was pleased he spoke English. "Where do you surf?" I hoped he'd direct me to some easy break in the reef, close to shore. Instead he just pointed to the furthest whitewater on the very outside reef almost a kilometre away. My heart missed a beat, pondering a surf so far out. "Is anybody else out there?" "No. Surf small today. Maybe good tomorrow"