Batu Karas

Sleep, surf, eat, repeat. We could get used to that. In fact, by about day four of our first real surf trip ever, it was hard to imagine ever going back to: work, work, work, repeat. I think the thing we like most about surfing, is the schedule, or lack thereof. It could just be us being slack beginners, but it seems to me, even the 21-yr-old shredders with a surf board permanently lashed to the side of their moto, only surf for a few hours a day. You know, a couple hours in the morning, a couple hours in the afternoon. If you’re a purist, it’s a dusk and dawn thing, but hey, we’re not that committed (yet).

So ya, not a grueling 10-hr day of ski-touring or mountain biking. Down time is what surfing seems to be about. Lots of time to talk about that guy who stole your wave, drink coffee, write blogs, and of course, hang out with the bros and be cool. Exactly what a vacation should be. Relaxation interspersed by something that is epically fun and keeps you in shape, and then followed by good coffee and/or cold beer.

Speaking of vacation, Amy had a random week off, like teachers do because they are on a schedule that no one else in the real world is on – which is good, since while I get less time off, I can take it when I want. What’s that?...you have a week off? Surf’s up baby!

Enter Batu Karas, West Java, Indonesia. By all accounts, it could be best beginner surf wave on the planet. This is where you take your 5-yr old to learn to surf. From what everyone is saying, if you can’t stand on the board at the end of a week in Batu Karas, you are either in a coma, or you never actually went in the water. Perfect, sign us up.

Despite being only 350 kms (an infinitely large distance here in Indo) from Jakarta, like most cool, small, out of the way and off-the-radar places, Batu Karas is a bit of a logistics nightmare to get to. It’s one of those “you can’t git there frum here” places. With no major airport nearby (flying is the only quick way of getting anywhere in Indo), and no direct train or bus dropping you off anywhere near the wave, the beer talk is all about “how did you get here?” For us, getting there involved a 1-hr Uber ride to Jakarta, an 8-hr train ride through the heart of West Java, followed by a 2-hr car ride through the jungle, arriving in a torrential tropical downpour which amazingly did not stop for the next 48 hours. But, the beer was cold, the fish was on the barbie, and we were welcomed with open arms. “Just in time” they said. For what? Dinner!

It was the quintessential soft landing after a loooooong day. Where? Villa Monyet (monyet = monkey) is the name of the place. A sweet little place just down the road from the wave, offering thatched-roof A-frame bungalows nestled in the jungle, amazing post-surf breakfasts, 24-7 free tea and coffee, 5-dollar a day moto rentals, and free surf advice from the crew of ripped 20-something surf dudes. Oh, and a fridge full of “honour-system” cold beer. Does it get any better? If yer looking for a place to hide off-grid for a few months, learn to surf, hang out, read books, find yourself….this would be a worthy place.

The wave, a smooth-as-silk right-hand point break, that seems to peel in slow-mo, did not disappoint. It is truly a beginner paradise. Sand bottom, no rips, no reefs, no drop-offs, no freaky stuff, just a consistent waist-high peeler that feels like your mom or dad holding the back of your seat when you learned to ride a bike. “That’s it Billy, you got it, now just stand up…” You don’t even have to paddle out if you don’t want to. Just walk back out, flip the board around, and jump back on.

After a few days we settled into a very tight and very rigorous regime: get up, coffee, morning surf sesh, more coffee, breakfast, chill, chill a bit more, afternoon surf sesh, beer and French fries, chill, maybe a nap, then sunset glass of wine on the beach watching the shredders attack the reef break (not the kiddie pool where we surf). The biggest decision of the day of course is then where we are going to eat dinner. Seafood or pizza? On the beach, not on the beach? Walking or take the moto? Ahh, bule problems!

A fascinating element of surfing that we have discovered, is how similar the psychology is to another sport that is dear to our hearts: skiing. The comparison is striking. Three basic elements make up the perfect moment:  weather, conditions, and people (crowds). In fact, I experienced my first personal surf rage on our last day. The surf was small to non-existent, wave not working, and there were about 50 10-yr-olds with boogie-boards buzzing around like ants on a dead cockroach (a little tropical reference there J). After a few near-miss decapitations and nothing I would describe as surfing, we packed it in and cursed everything that is sacred over a Bintang. More bule problems!     

But you know, that’s what makes those days, those perfect days, when everything is going your way, and you have the place to yourself, so special. So, skiing or surfing, here’s to good weather, perfect conditions, and having the place to yourself! When that happens, we’ll let you know. Until then, we’ll be slugging it out in the kiddie pool with the rest of humanity J

The return trip turned out to be a tad “interesting”, but the gamble paid off and we made it home in record time. By gamble, I mean, like most things in Indo, you never really know how they are going to unfold until they do. We took a chance with an on-line booking for a flight back to JKT out of a nowhere airport that was reported to be 3 hours away. Three hours away – when the bridge in the middle of the route is not “broken”.

OK, here’s the story on that one: apparently the bridge “broke” during the time we were in BK, meaning you could walk across, but you couldn’t drive across. Right, so how does that work? Well, Car #1 takes you to the bridge, you walk across, and, in theory, you find Car #2 waiting for you on the other side. Ah, ya,….our flight was at 8:50 am. Leaving in Car #1 at 4:30 am meant any deviation in the “car on the other side” theory would have resulted in…well, we’re not sure, cuz there was no Plan B. But you know, miracles happen. Car #2 was there waiting for us! Proof that sometimes, you just gotta believe. We made the flight (a tiny 10-passenger Cessna…more fun!), didn’t crash (another miracle), and made it home in time for midday cocktails. Life is good. J

 

 

 

Saturday afternoon gong show