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How do you cry "HELP"
in Indonesian
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by Peter Neely -
Indo Surf & Lingo
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 The
waves didn't look so small to me - maybe a solid 4 to 6 feet,
but it was hard to judge from so far away. Friends had told
me to walk to the far end of the beach near the temple on the
cliff. It was meant to be an easy paddle out from behind the
peak. I stashed my gear in Made's warung and waved goodbye as
I plodded off along the hot deserted beach, unsure of what lay
waiting for me out on that reef.
My feet sank past my ankles into the coarse-grained coral sand,
making each step quite an effort. It was like trying to walk
through quicksand. The 300 metre walk to the cliff took well
over 20 sweltering minutes. The closer I got to the waves, the
bigger they looked, and the drier my mouth got as I saw the
power of each wave exploding onto the reef. Did I have the nerve
to surf an outside reef break totally alone? At least I hadn't
seen the swarms of deadly seasnakes I'd been warned about |
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After procrastinating
at the water's edge, I decided to paddle the 300 metres across
the lagoon, just to take a closer look at the waves. Then I
could decide if it was safe or not to continue the extra 200
metres to the peak. No need to be a hero and get killed on some
god-forsaken reef trying to surf alone. I could always turn
back. Or so I thought...
By the time I had paddled to where the foam backed off into
the lagoon, my arms already ached. I sat on my board to catch
my breath, looking for a way out through the whitewater. I finally
found the small gap I'd been told about, backing off into the
channel.
I decided to take
one last look to contemplate the danger I was getting into before
making the final decision to go or not. After the stinking hot
slog along the beach and the long paddle across the lagoon,
I was already half exhausted, and I hadn't even got out the
back yet, let alone caught a wave.
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The wave faces seemed well over 8 feet, and it looked like every
wave closed out after just one or two sections. The coral underfoot
was shallow and sharp. I felt very lonely so far from the safety
of land. What was I doing here anyway? Did I really need to
be taking this risk? I knew the ocean here was some of the deepest
in the world, part of the Lombok continental divide, with strong
currents and undertows. The
beach was totally deserted, with just a few Balinese fishermen
sailing by in outriggers, far out beyond the break. I started
to think about sharks, sea snakes, coral cuts, and riptides.
Looking back to the distant beach, I was struck by the ominous
sight of the recently active Mount Agung volcano. Now I started
worrying about volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, tidal waves
... I had almost come around to convincing myself this was far
too dangerous for such an inexperienced surfer, when suddenly
I realised I had been sucked out through the channel and was
now looking into the breaking waves from side on. My head spun
around in panic to look straight back out to sea again. Luckily
I saw a lull and realised I now had no option now but to paddle
immediately out past the break before a set arrived to clean
me up.
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 Paddling
quickly for almost a minute, I finally reached safety out the
back. The water underneath me was a dark midnight blue colour,
seemingly too deep for a wave to break. Yet eerie whirlpools
bubbled up from the depths as each wave passed by. I half-heartedly
paddled for a couple of thick 6 footers, but they refused to
even break. I tentatively paddled in a little closer, trying
to get into position to catch one of those 6 footers (My Big
Mistake). I thought I was safe, well out past the break, so
you can imagine my horror when I looked up to see a humungous
closeout set charging towards me from way out to sea. My heart
pounded as I made the split second decision that I might just
be able to paddle over it. I didn't really have any other choice.
I couldn't bear to even look at the first approaching wave.
So I put my head down and paddled full-bore for the horizon.
I cursed myself for ever getting into such a dangerous situation,
beyond my abilities and way out of my depth. I was in panic
mode, my head spinning with thoughts of disaster. When I finally
summoned the nerve to peer up, I was sickened to see 3 ridiculously
huge waves already jacking up, threatening to break another
50 metres further out. I was definitely caught inside in the
worst possible way! Seven hundred metres out to sea. Sharp coral
reef underneath. The biggest set I'd ever had to face about
to unload onto my head. The world's deepest water ready to suck
me out into a seasnake infested ocean. Would my legrope break?
Could I swim that far anyway, against the current? Could those
fishermen in their flimsy Balinese outriggers save me if I was
swept out to sea? |
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