Stories of surfing in Indonesia featured in magazines, movies and online had me living in a daydream for most of my time at school. Bending the papers on my desk into perfect waves to surf with my fingers was the most surfing action I got in the four years that I attended college in Colorado. The moment I graduated, I knew a trip was in order.
Every surfer will say that Indonesia is the number one surf destination in the world. I knew that was where I wanted to go. In fact, I knew most of the waves there already. When I started doing my research and realized what a trek it would be to get there – it also happens to be a pretty expensive journey. I presented the trip to plenty of friends, but when it all came down to it, only one, Peter Smith, was ready for the adventure. We booked our flights, hotels, boat, etc. For four months, we stoked each other out on our trip to come while surfing small, uneventful California. Before we knew it, we were standing in line at LAX waiting to start our journey.
Four flights, three days, and a twelve-hour boat trip later, we had arrived in the Mentawai Islands. We woke up on our 70 foot boat that first morning and sat up on the roof, looking out at a handful of tropical islands. The boat was rocking up and over lines of swell that extended further than we could see. We knew the waves would be pumping.
We showed up at Lances Left, and there was only a couple guys out, 8-10 feet, offshore, warm and perfect. I was overwhelmed with excitement. Before I could gather my things to paddle out, a few of the other guys on our boat were already headed out to the line up. Our boat guide pulled Peter and I over and started pointing across the bay. “Bintang’s is a sick right over there,” he told us. Then he pointed another direction. “There is a really nice left right inside this cover over here.” Pointing up the point, he said, “around that corner there’s a sick peak called Monkey’s.” It was almost too much excitement to bear. “What are you guys into?” he asked. Peter and I looked at each other and started laughing. There were waves everywhere! We had one of the crew guys boat us over to Bintang’s for our first session. I was trying to take it all in as we motored over.
“Watching the back of breaking waves, the wind pushing mist off the face, backlit by the morning sun with the most tropical backdrop I have ever seen. I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply through my nose and let it out. I was there.”
We surfed like mad men for the next twelve days. Rights, lefts, reefs, beach breaks, waves I had seen in magazines, and waves that didn’t even have a name. It was incredible. We would wake up at a new spot every day, look at the window from our bunks on the boat, and see perfection rolling through. I could barely lift my arms, my cuts from the reef had become stuck to my sheets, and my sunburn was crisp. I was hurting most mornings, but as soon as I jumped into the line up there was nothing to complain about. Peter and I enjoyed watching each other get the best rides of our lives, stoking each other out after every turn. It was pure. I felt like a kid again. Sunrise to sunset we were in the water. After our last session of the day, one of the crew members would come pick us up in the tender with a Bintang (local beer). We would laugh, cheers, talk about the highlights from our session and head back to the boat to look at photos from the day. We lost track of the days with all of the surfing and exploring we did. Every day was a new experience and before we knew it, our trip was winding down.
After twelve days of boating through the Mentawai Islands and surfing endless swell, we started our journey home. Our twelve hour crossing from the Mentawais back to the mainland of Bali turned into seventeen hours of intense storm that continued throughout the night. Rain, lighting and thunder, 15-foot seas, no sleep and seasickness for seventeen hours was brutal, to say the least. But considering that was the only bad thing that happened the entire trip, it was a small price to pay. Four flights and three days later, we were back to California. Our bodies were beat. Peter and I high-fived and smiled; there was no reason to say anything. We had just completed the ultimate surf trip, and it was perfect. The next few days I caught up on sleep, treated my wounds, and started looking through the thousands of photos I took. Soon I was back to work. Back into the real world. Back to bending the papers on my desk into the perfect waves similar to those I had surfed, day dreaming about my return to Indonesia.
