ISLAND TRIPPING
As Journeyed and Documented by
Adam sime 30-10-21
The excitement had been building for months. A week chasing waves in the far north of the UK had been negotiated and meticulously planned. My very understanding wife had taken the week off work to look after our 3 kids (Both of us work shifts). The plan was to make the call 2 days out based on forecast, either Hebrides or the far north of Scotland in October.
So when the question was asked, “can you come the week after, it looks shit in the north, you will be wasting your time driving all the way up”, my answer was clear, “ No Will, I can’t change my week”. Oh to be free to surf whenever nature deals her diamonds. Those days are in the past, for now.
The decision was then made to drive west and meet at the pool in Bristol. Sure, it’s a day of waves but in no way did this come close to satisfying my desire for the adventure of the search. So I bolted it west a few days before. A Night run, beautifully devoid of road work diversions, heading to a new spot on a recommendation of it being a swell magnate (No surf there, no surf anywhere). The forecast wasn’t looking hugely appealing but to my insider’s credit, I awoke to head high, clean offshore conditions. Perfect A- frame peaks with nobody else in sight.
The trip was also to be a testing ground for 2 new boards that my good friend at Fantasy Surf Craft, had hand shaped for me. A 5’8 rocket single and 5’5 twin pin (I also brought a little fish that was highly reliable backup). The aim was to put them in some proper juice to see how they would work. The water was still warm and the surf was lining up beautifully, longish, clean with a bit of poke. The twin went incredible once I stopped nursing it and forgot about not having the third fin. Fast, loose and held a turn on rail precisely. Little did I know then, (apart from surfing the rocket once) that I would only surf the twin pin on this trip.
I met Will at the pool the following morning. It always amazes me how friendships form out of the love of surfing. We had met 10 years previously surfing in Morocco and stayed in touch ever since. Apart from a Hail Mary trip north together we hadn’t seen each other since. So it was refreshing to hit the ground running, like old friends where nothing is different, just a few grey hairs.
The pool was brilliant fun. The pin went really well again, feelings of speed and control and the squirt out of turns were hugely satisfying. Broken, fed and watered, we made the run back to the coast for the remnants of the dying swell.
Surprisingly we woke to clean head high off shore conditions. This day I spent 8 hours in total in the water, figuring out the slowly revealing magic of the twin pin. The magical colours through the back of the barrel were spectacular on sunset. Too much is never enough.
With plenty of underlying swell running during this session, Will literally disappeared from all sight, taking his spear gun and heading out around the point. To my relief, he turned up 3 hours later with a fat bass for our dinner. I turned off the cyclic thoughts of ‘lone diver missing off the Cornish coast’. Turned out to be the best tasting fish I had eaten in a good while!
So those awkward discussions had to be held that evening. The surf had dropped considerably and the thought of grovelling for the rest of the week was not a desirable option. I just had to go north. As it turned out Will wanted to stay and chase fish. His predictions of small, howling onshore conditions didn’t work for him. I was desperate to make the most of the time off I had left, and my reading of the charts was heavily swayed by this mind-set.
So 5am came around quick, I said my goodbyes to my good friend and headed north. I truly love being on my own and the drive into the unknown was an adventure unto itself. 13 hours later, completely podcasted out and in awe of the mountainous country just driven through, I parked on the harbour.
As predicted, it was howling onshore and I could just make out large chunks of white water rumbling down the reef into the river mouth. Happy in the thought that at least the swell was there, I crawled into the back of the van and was rocked to sleep by the gale force breeze.
Soon enough, the day bloomed into life. That first moment, what’s it going to look like? I find there is nothing as exciting as waking up on the spot. Annoyingly, it was still howling onshore, but with plenty of underlying swell.
So I headed west to a spot that looked like the winds might be more favourable, and there it was. Everything I dreamed of, trained for, right there in front of me, calling to me. A reeling left hander, running down the reef with no one else around. I watched it for a bit, figured out what would be the best entry- exit point and then got out there. It was beautiful, powerful, well overhead, clean, and fast with a section that barrelled at the end. I surfed all day, surfed until my body gave up and then I sat and watched. I watched until it got too dark to see, floating in that magic soup of euphoria.
The next morning it had dropped off causing some of the sections to break on practically dry reef. It still looked great but I decided to head west again. Everywhere else I checked that morning was ether to big and closing out, or just not working. Damn. You know that old saying “never drive away from good surf” even after all these years, that lesson still hasn’t quite sunk in. Cursing myself, I drove back to dreamland to find out that it had dropped off even more due to the change of swell direction. But being the last day and desperate to milk every last drop out of my trip, I got out there. It was still good but super sketchy with the wave breaking in ankle deep water on the end section. It wasn’t a surprise to find the first ding on the pin when I got back to the van. Not to worry..
I headed back into town to check the main spot. It was not looking world class, but by reminding myself of where I normally surf at home, i got straight out there and joined the small friendly mob on the peak. It was super fun and more than okay as a last Harrah.
Would I drive 13 hours for 1 incredible day of surf again, yes, in a heartbeat. Plans are afoot for the next trip. That low feeling, post trip has gone now. Its autumn at home and we have waves locally, it’s all good and yes, the boards definitely work.
Adam Sime 30/10/2021
SUMBAWA
Leaving Desert’s behind at dusk , after a day of trading waves with just our crew in the water was such a lucky experience looking back. August , 2001, Prime indo season. We had cruised in and anchored up , not another boat or crew to be seen or anyone on land. This was a time in-between land camps, which added to Deserts very unique and special feel. We had scored, not huge , but dreamy long and shallow reelers. Darkness fell quickly as it does in equatorial regions .We retired early as the boat motored on into the darkness , heading on to the next part of this adventure. Sumbawa.
We awoke in another land. The coffee was already being poured , the banana jaffles were being passed around. As our eyes focused on the destination, the first sets of the day started showing themselves on the outside section. It was on. Scar reef was rumbling to life and we had prime position with no others in the bay. It didn’t take long before we were scrambling for the rounded pins and piling overboard to get to the line-up. Huge drops and rifling barrels were on offer , once the wave hit the inside section it literally turned itself inside out. It was mind blowing to be somewhere so remote with a crew that literally assembled itself on Bali a week earlier. After a few days the swell dropped a bit so we headed south to another gem . Now thats another story….
A Golden Dawn
WALKING OUT OF TRIVANDRUM INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT AT 230AM AFTER BEING IN TRANSIT FOR OVER 15 HOURS WAS A TRUE SENSORY OVERLOAD.
WALKING OUT OF TRIVANDRUM INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT AT 230AM AFTER BEING IN TRANSIT FOR OVER 15 HOURS WAS A TRUE SENSORY OVERLOAD.
LUCKILY OUR DRIVER WAS THERE TO SAVE US FROM THE CHAOS AND CONFUSION AMONGST THRONGS OF PEOPLE STANDING AT THE TRANSPORT RANK IN THE HOT TROPICAL NIGHTTIME AIR.
AND OFF INTO THE DARK WE DISAPPEARED JOINING THE CRAZY PUBLIC ON THE KERALAN POT HOLED HIGHWAY. A ROAD WHERE NOBODY SEEMED TO HAVE ANY REGARD FOR RULES OR DANGER CAUSED BY THEIR ACTIONS. YET SOMEHOW ITS JUST THE WAY IT IS. WE MOTORED ON AT A VERY SLOW PLACE TO OUR DESTINATION 2 HOURS NORTH. THE PLACE LOOKED FASCINATING EVEN IN THE DARK OF NIGHT.
AFTER A VERY BRIEF SLEEP ON DAY BEDS DUE TO OUR LATE ARRIVAL, WE WOKE TO OUR FIRST DAY IN A VERY SPECIAL PLACE. LOOKING DOWN TO THE OCEAN FROM THE CLIFFTOP GARDEN THE SIGHT WAS SPECTACULAR. PERFECTION IN THE FORM OF SHOULDER-HIGH REELING, HOLLOW LEFT-HANDERS. BOARDS OUT OF BAGS, FINS IN, WAX-UP, IN THERE. THE WAVES WERE FLAWLESS, SUPER FAST AND BARRELLING. THE VIEWS BACK TOWARDS THE COCO PALM TOPPED CLIFFS WITH THE SUN WAKING UP WAS SOMETHING TO BEHOLD. STUNNING LIGHT BOUNCING OFF THE INDIAN OCEAN WAS MAGICAL.
WELCOME TO KERALA.
