1/24/18
I love being a shitty surfer.
Surfing has a great levelling effect. It balances expectation with effort. If you expect a great surf, you have to put in more effort to catch the right waves and be in position; without that effort, your expectations won’t be met.
Luckily for me, my expectations are low. If I can catch one solid ride and make a satisfying turn on it, I’m sweet for two weeks. It’s all gravy from there and I spend the remainder of those weeks replaying that turn in my head, slow motion glory, I have the top play in my very own Sportscenter.
The happy-go-lucky mindset is a great one, but that all changed when I went on my first dedicated Surf Safari. The Mentawais Islands in Indonesia.
In retrospect, I probably should have eased my way to Surf Mecca with some easier trips, stamped a couple other reef breaks on my surfari resume, but the opportunity presented itself and I had a looming departure on the horizon. I was scheduled to leave Australia at Christmas, so the bucket list became a priority.
Our first break in the Mentawais was a place called Hollow Trees, and it turned out to be the most dangerous place we’d surf the entire trip. It tapered off in size throughout the day and after a couple shaky rights and some coral bites I finally found my feet. After that the other spots we surfed were a dream. Perfect lefts breaking from the same spot.
Aside from the water temperature, exquisite marine life, and private boat access to the lineup, there was one major difference from surfing in Sydney. Everyone was basically pro. These were lifelong surfers who had talent and fitness to boot, and they were either returning Mentawai veterans or had been training for this trip for a long time. I was neither.
Like most sports, surrounding yourself with superior athletes is a great way to get better fast. So that’s what I did, struggling to keep up every day was like high altitude training. I’ll show you some pictures of yours truly and spare you pictures of my boatmates, I’d hate for you to get too much perspective on the skill gap.
After sliding on factory-made waves in Indonesia 3 times a day for 10 days straight, the return to Sydney was stark. It was like coming back to work after a festival weekend. You clock in despondently each day thinking “is this the life I signed up for?”
I had lost my any-wave-sunshine attitude and replaced it with an expectant Indo-high-horse perspective.
Eventually the treadmill that is life evened me out and I began appreciating sunny knee-high days once again. The month before I left Australia for good there were some really fun swells just outside my bedroom window and I spent every opportunity in the water. Any time I lowered my head, salt water would stream from my nose like a sea-fountain. If you know the feeling, good on you.
It’s been a month since I moved from the beachside life and I cannot stress enough, if you live in reach of an ocean, go for a surf, and if you are offered a spot on a surfari, take it, and invite me too.