Kinder Goodall

Not one but two planes full of passengers struggling to stifle coughs and sneezes accompanied with my ever worsening hangover, thanks Kevin, and all too short a nights sleep I finally arrive in Padang, Sumatra.

We so often take our planned, well signed, secure airports for granted, this journey involved a lot of following my nose from check in desk to check in desk to departures, arrivals, check in again and then departures again! You certainly had to guess, hope you’re right, and simply go with the flow – but hey that’s what travelling is all about. I just wish I didn’t have three surfboards in tow!

The pointy roofs of Sumatra airport rekindle memories of my last visit in 2003, but wow, I’m sure no 737 jets flew here back then, how Indonesia has grown.

So, the Mentawai’s.  Long been held as surfing’s Mecca I was scared and excited all at the same time!

Our boat, well I say our ‘boat’ it was a 110ft 4 mast schooner was promising a rather characterful end to my year’s journey.  Unfortunately just as my timing would have it had become stricken with a broken rudder we were to be upgraded to an aluminium catamaran that at first look rather closely resembled the Manly Fast Ferry painted yellow.  I mean come ON! Seriously!

So here I am sitting in the shade on the tropically thick bladed grass of Padang Airport waiting to meet the first of my soon to be close companions, nay shipmates, for the next 12 days; enter stage left LA Fireman, San Diego ripper, Greg Drude!

We hop in the hot taxi and whilst desperately praying for the AC to kick in and eating some fried chicken, it turns out this is his 23rd trip out here and although he too was a little bit gutted about the boat swap he quickly explained the legend of our new Skipper: Moose.  He then elaborated this with the advantages of the quicker new boat, and that Jordy Smith will be staying on it after we leave, things were beginning nicely.  This was after all a surf trip and well let’s face it who needs romance and character on that, just surf, comfort and a Captain who knew were to find both.

So we head into a hotel near the harbour to meet our other shipmates. Bang; eight Australians from Cronulla who, having been waiting since 11am (it was now 3pm) where already three, four, sheets to the wind! If first impressions count I was in for a voyage.

At times like these I always hark back to a wise saying: “if you can’t beat em, join em!”

This was going to be an Epic.

There she was, Crystal Clear, moored confidently to a rather ramshackle wooden pier. Sparkling freshly new in the streetlights.  She had no idea the havoc 10 men were about to set upon her; beer, skin, blood and betadine where all to stain her decks.

With all safely on board (mercilessly out boards and bags had been already taken on board by the crew and stowed away) we cast off to gently chug down the river to the open ocean. On our way down the brown river houses banked steeply up on our left which, despite the hour, still had cocks crowing and dogs barking anonymously in the darkness. The right hand bank I simply failed to notice with my attention completely caught by this vertiginous ‘Riverdell’.

So, to sea, and to the sun deck to watch the sun set over the ever retreating port of Padang, make friends and begin our 14 beers/day quota!

If you’ve never slept on the open ocean (ferries don’t count) it is an experience to savour, provided it’s not a full blown Force 4 gale, the gentle rocking of the swell accompanied by the throbbing diesel engine is calmly soporific whilst the gurgling, cascading water makes you need the loo, Bintang driven, every time you are disturbed.  Yet even this, requiring you to go on deck, affronts you with an infinity of darkness that allows you to confront isolation in safety, well that bit of worry belongs to Captain Moose!

Our alarm clock was a sound we were to soon become accustomed to; the chain of the anchor being lifted.  The sound reverberated through the metal hull with what can only be described as tank track coming loose – whatever that may sound like – it was loud and obnoxious – I will have to record it for my personal use.

A quick ‘snooze’ button later and the reverse noise is heard only more violently as the anchor is dropped and looking out of my oblong porthole I’m greeted by dawn over tropical islands and peeling turquoise right hand waves – we were finally at Mecca, Mentawai’s, and more specifically Hollow Trees.

HT’s so named due to a hollow tree that used to live on the reef, now submerged due to ever rising water levels – pause for thought; how long will these islands be around – is a brilliant barrelling right over some pretty nasty reef.

The boys jump in without hesitation, I have a momentary freak out; I’ve got to hassle with 20+ guys to paddle for a precipitous take off directly into a barrel over shallow reef to maybe, probably not in my case, emerge victorious on the other side, f*ck the warm crystal clear water I’m staying on the boat!

Moose to the rescue; after a few well chosen discussions and verbal introductions about the wave we paddled out together to sit ‘wide’ and be patient.

Holy shit some of the things people were paddling for, getting smashed, completely the appropriate word here, dragged onto the reef and then having to paddle back out and round.  My courage was draining away until Moose again coming to the rescue called me into a couple of small ones, my confidence was building, kind of!  I think it’s time for breakfast and to apply more suncream/allow my heart rate to return to normal.

Second session saw me remain sitting wide but when a big sweeper of a bomb came there was nothing for it; now or never, put your head down and paddle like a daemon possesed…

YEW! That’s the one, guys on the boat screaming, wind, speed, water all swirling around me – split second wrong decision, I wish I’d known/understood what the wave was doing behind me, I make for the top of the wave to make sure I can get the hell of there, bad decision, the wave bites my board and drags it up into the lip from under my feet, pitching me, speed wind etc face first into the turquoise concrete.

“Ouch! It’s ok” I say as I come up for air surprisingly only moments later. After my experience in Guatemala, I feel around and know it’s nowhere near as bad, until, hang on, whilst I paddle hard face down to get out of the impact zone, what’s that dripping muddy crimson?

Hmm, paddle swiftly to the boat I think, see what this is.  As I climb up asking, what’s all this, no one seems too concerned, then I lift my chin and I’m greeted by “oos” and “don’t worry Moose can stitch that up”.  Really! What have I done?  I can’t see a thing! Anyhow, I received the best medical care on the best surgeons table; the top deck of a gently swaying boat, bathed in sunshine, and five stitches. That’s my trip ruined in the first day I thought, the stitches in Guatemala had me out of the water for 7 days, but no, 24hrs later I was paddling, albeit very nervously out again into the lineup!

By the end of the first day we had: a shoulder pop out and be put back, more than a few get dragged across the reef and enjoy the ‘Betadine experience’ another shoulder almost tear and most importantly egos humbled.

Not much can be said about the evenings other than good food, relaxation and these Craig David loving Cronulla Cats! What can possibly be said about them, from teaching me how to shotgun a beer to momentous discussions on astrology and life!  I have to say they absolutely made my voyage overwhelmingly memorable – despite a certain effort to drag me back into drinking at 2am whilst I was on deck, in my pants, having a piss!  They made me miss the country I had abandoned all too soon. Join them I did, regret it I did not.

The rapid duh de duh de duh de duh de drops the anchor.  A quick spy out my porthole and we are at another idyllic spot, turquoise waters, clear sky’s and peeling – a bit smaller – waves.  Hungover? Definitely but I’m out the water this session allowing me to take in the full glory of where we are and the frothing faces that are on continuous rotation from the break to the boat and back again! This is the dream, as Adam asked me whilst I stand on the bow arms wide hoping no one was watching: “enjoying life Kinder?” Hell yes!

To say this became a tropical routine surfing paradise punctuated only by bigger waves, bigger barrels, more cuts and betadine!  But really that’s what it became.

An overnight trip complete with two fresh ‘Spanish Mackerel like’ fish catches producing fresh sashimi, once the fish had been put in the freezer to reduce its tropical sea temperature flesh, we arrive at the southern group of islands and the wave magnet Thunders. Rumble the waves did, barrel spit and scare me they did.  We were moored right alongside the break with its peeling spitting barrels shooting straight at us.  From here we experienced the full opera of surfing watching shattering tragedies and glorious triumphs as many a great wave was made and lost.  This is difficult to beat.

We powered back up the islands to Macaronis and wow what a fun wave.  It proved shallow but mechanically persistent allowing me to actually believe I might be ok at this surfing malarkey!

Then oh, how humbled I was when we went that afternoon to Greenbush.  This spitting wide barrel broke straight onto shallow sharp reef and only the brave decided to challenge its all enveloping allure. I stayed on the boat and took pictures whilst sipping a Bintang.

Thankfully, many evening shotguns later, we arrived back where we began at Lances Left, soon to be my nemesis due to being washed up onto the reef – I got greedy – and smashed onto the reef – bad wave choice.

I paddled out at day break all alone, determined to get in a few before the boys arrived.  Armed with a few landmarks from veteran Greg I made for the ‘peak’.  I must have sat there for almost an hour trying to get a wave till the others got dropped off by boat and paddled to a spot much further in and across from me and started catching nice long rides! DAMN. You never realise how much you need fellow surfers crowding a break until it’s too late!

Now, how many beers were left, 19 each to do in one night remaining, WHAT? Surely we were drinking more than that, well at least the vodka was gone.

We never even came close to finishing the quota and I was left alone on the bow deck staring out at the invisible black horizon, encircled by stars, ruminating about not just the last few days but the whole year past and the years future.  This was a fitting finale.

Our bodies broken we all parted great friends having shared a very unique experience.  I returned to Uluwatu to surf the mythical break, realise my body couldn’t handle anymore surfing and simply collapsed.

How fitting then that my adventures should start and end with a solid friend, Kevin.  There at the start when we met in Popoyo, Nicaragua, in the middle, Manly, Australia, and now at the end in Canggu, Bali.  This is quite possibly, hopefully, just the beginning of the next chapter.   Thank you to everyone i have met along the way and those I am still yet to meet, good luck to you all, i’m sure I will see you all again.

Kinder

P.S. The first things that have hit me, other than the cold, upon landing in UK;

1. British birdsong, which has an almost light and jolly sound to it.
2. Freshly cut wet grass
3. Good quality toilet paper!

LSC Surfy Bit

Not much more can be said about the Mentawai’s.  This is no place for the fainthearted, no sand here, just reef and more reef, but the waves are so good and SO fun your surfing capability and confidence will double.

I won’t go into the detail of every break because if you go it’s more than likely going to be by a surf charter boat that will take you to the right places at the right time.  I would say, don’t be afraid to ask the captain for any details; currents, shallow reef, best looking angle/peak of wave to catch etc. they are an often underused resource.

I went with Moose on Crystal Clear which being a catamaran was much more roomy, stable and fast enabling potential for surfing breaks alone.

The Pelagius is the most expensive, followed by Additcion (from the Young Guns surf film with a helicopter on the back, pre drones) but I also had many a great line up chat with Captain Tommy of the brand new Indosato and would highly recommend him – despite his mick taking of there actually being a London Surf Club!

Kit wise, see photo, but invaluable items were painkillers, ibuleve, Betadine, and the amazing Rip Curl Pocket Reef Boots.

Uluwatu

I don’t need to say a thing here. You should have read all about it before you get here from Gerry Lopez and crew pioneering it back in the 70’s to the modern day wedding paradise, mushroom taking, drinking mayhem it has become.

Suffice to say the cauldron cave paddle out/in to the low tide reef barrels this break is in the tick list for a reason.

Are you a bath or shower person?

There is something so relaxing about getting up and walking outside for your shower.

This morning was no different but I suddenly realised I have had some great outside showers in my life. Here are my top four:

1. Kenya, Lake Niavasha. Overlooking the lake, complete with hippos, I stood underneath a metal tub stained black with the soot of the wood fire now raging inside. The water would fall through a pipe from the water tower, bend its way through the fire before finally cascading onto my head below. The most comforting heat was accompanied with the smell of burning firewood, did I mention the view?
2. La Riberia, Costa Rica. Post surf shower with well water that was brought but by a whacky contraption reminiscent of a miniature coal mine with a guy standing on top fixing/peddling it.
3. Gili Trawangan, outside in a typical rainy season thunderstorm listening to the call to prayer.
4. Canggu, Indonesia. This one is rather fancy; an ensuite half open and half covered with a lattice eve. The exposed wall engulfed in green leaves terminates by enclosing a hot water shower.

I’m currently burning around on a scooter in Canggu, Bali, Indonesia. Finally I’m back in the surf and able to walk and perhaps more importantly, dance!

Time is almost over, but I keep convincing myself I’m ready, hmm.

Kinder

LSC SURFY BIT

Get a scooter, pooh your pants for the first few hours, less so for the first day, then you’ll get the hang of it. They are much easier now that they are automatic and have a kill switch when you put the kickstand down. (They didn’t always have this and theres a story to go with that 14 years ago, but not now!) There’s really three breaks in the Canggu area:

1. Berawa; this is a fun sand covered reef break. mainly packed with beginners and intermediates but can often be found empty due tot he popularity the other breaks in the area
2. Batu Bolong; great long boarding wave and PACKED with learners. Great for beginning.

3. Echo Beach; theres really three breaks, as you look out to sea on your left you’ll see a reefy left, straight out in front of the lifeguard/DJ booth, watch for rocks on the paddle out through the very helpful rip. You’ll see a peak that has a short fat right and a nice left, generally an easy take off and this morning I saw a local back door the barrel – everyone went YEW! Then theres the centre of the beach, punchy barrels. Finally on the right infant of the river theres a shallow reef that provides the best break that barrels. I find this one difficult due to shallow reef and you have to be going fast at the very small, often crowded, take off. But i you get there 30mins before it gets pumping at mid tide you can get it to yourself for a little while, then wait till everyone gets out and have it a little less crowded after! There are also peaks further up as well but don’t know much about these.

Having a shower in your open air ensuite listening to the beautiful afternoon call to prayer – how do they get, and hold, those high notes? – is a rather surreal and somewhat magical experience.

This is Gili Trawangan; in an hour the call to prayer or Adhan will become jumbled up (I don’t mean remixed) with reggae rythms, people playing guitar on the street and the unmistakeable rolling base beat of Trance music.

The largest of the three Gili islands Trawangan is home to an odd mix of resorts, diving schools and backpackers stuffing their faces with mushrooms and playing beer pong! My stay here has been mixed with the torture of still rehabbing my foot and a brilliant introduction to freediving in beautiful waters teeming with life.

My first experience of Freediving was primarily because i wanted to learn how to control my breath in big waves but after this baptism I may be a little hooked.  You simply float there holding a buoy, staring down into the turquoise water with penetrating rays of light which instead of appearing to go away disappearing into the dark depths they shine invitingly out of the ultramarine fathoms that just disappear like the sky of a horizon but, only no horizontal feeling of edge, end, distance.  Beautiful – scary – unknown.

I had issues equalising my sinuses which had me with a towel over my head, over a bowl of steaming water filled with ginger and turmeric and, somewhat more alarmingly, turned me vegan! So didn’t quite have as much fun as intended but the amount I did experience definitely made me think I could enjoy this completely natural – our bodies were designed for it – challenge.  Just don’t tell mum.

Off for my visa run to Singapore…then…back on a surfboard.

Be seeing you all so soon.

Kinder

Other points to know about Gili T:

DO NOT get the Sempana Ferry, engines broke down three times on the way over and then it was two hours late on the way back due to them breaking again and they broke down another few times on the way back too!

I also had my first no2 today (Thursday) after spending the whole of Monday night on the loo, don’t eat at the night market. Costs just the same as everywhere else but comes with a significant service.

No scooters are allowed – bliss!

I never appreciated my feet.  In the words of that famous song: your foot bone’s connected to your ankle bone and your ankle bone’s connected to your foot bone, your ankle bone’s connected to your shin bone and your shin bone’s connected to your knee bone…” and so on and so on until your standing on a chair blind drunk doing all the actions that go with it.  But wow do we need all those song lines!

Anyhow – I managed to break my foot surfing a few weeks back whilst surfing with a Welshman called Seb!  (Not sure why that’s important.) It was let’s be honest a small wave in comparison to what we were surfing the day before. As I did it I thought that’s the closest I’ll come to breaking my foot!  So sat on the beach prodded it, wiggled it, etc Seb very kindly came out and checked on me and I told him not to worry…gave it a few minutes then paddled back out again only to do the first duck dive and feel my foot kind of splinter. Oops I thought.

When the ‘concerned’ Seb finally joined me at the car we drove off, dropped him at home, picked up my book from home and then off for an XRay and to meet several very young British Dr’s – one of them screamed when they saw a cockroach – on their first placement overseas.  Another Doctor very kindly came back with THE ‘boot’ told me how to wear it and then decided to tell why I had too, it was broken. Bugger.

More painful than the foot was that this was two weeks before the surf trip of a lifetime 6 weeks in Indonesia and a once in a lifetime trip abroad a boat in the Mentawais to actually get good at surfing for a change!  I can’t believe this had happened to me again! (I broke my hand two weeks before a surf trip to Morocco in 2010.) Still I count myself luckier than the guy next to me who had been bitten by a spider and his arm looked like it had a football attached to it!

So I settled into the couch for my final two weeks in Oz staring out at the sea and PUMPING waves – damn I hate having a view of the sea!

Anyhow to cut through all the boring whingeing which Kevin, Seb, Isabell, Matt and Hector took the brunt of I find myself in Indonesia trying not to walk far – get too drunk, or sunburnt whilst ignoring all the people zipping past on mopeds with surfboards.

Eight months is a long time to be somewhere so I’m not going to write about it I’ll just share some pictures and you can guess the stories – they were all good.

  

My stay in Australia – although undocumented here – would not be possible without the following people putting up with me: Kevin, Hector and Clare, Matt, Seb, Eve, Isabell, Laurs, Dan, Mark, Joey, Leah, Craig, Tom, Robbie, Pat, Tom, Alexa, Gemma, Tom, James, Fabio, Guy, Alex, Birdie, Tim, Lucy, Laura, Ashley, Mike, Jamie, Alice, Chelsea, Leon, Xanthe, Fede, Michael, Michelle, Luke, Olli, Elin, Alex, Zac, Jack, and of course the Goodall family; David and Babs,  Nick and Alex + Lucy and Sophie, Ruth and Charlie!

Blimey why did I leave? Hope to see you all again sometime in the future.

 

To be settled, is that the goal?  Or can you drift with enough focus to enable you to be settled in a different way?

I have been living in Australia for the last 8 months with the question of: “Can I live here?” looming over me.  Part of me wishes I had more time to mull the question over but would extra time really of changed my mind?

What a country! I have rarely been outside of a two hour drive of Sydney and I love the place.  Thirty minutes outside the centre and you are driving past emerald seas, dusty green gum forests and orange and black swathes of fire ravaged landscapes.

I truly was living the dream in an apartment overlooking the ever changing emerald seas and I was only an hour commute to work.  Commute, i’m not sure I can really call it that.  I would walk out my door, cross the courtyard, round the corner of the building and be greeted by Manly Beach and the view of Fairy Bower, then I would descend the steps, cut/cast into the cliff, past Queenscliff Rockpool (a 50m seawater lido), across the beach, skate along the famous promenade and jump on a ferry for the 30min ride across one of the most beautiful and iconic harbours in the world.

Once on the return leg I called Christian and the comparison could not have been more stark; me walking across a beach and up a cliff whilst he was on a packed, late, train with rain beating the outside and condensation streaming down the inside of the window.  How lucky am I?  But still the conversation revolved around what was happening at home.  My half brother David has lived in Australia since the early 80’s and said to me that it took him almost ten years to stop calling Britain his ‘home’ and he moved out here with his wife and three children.  Is home where you feel most settled or is home where the heart is?  My New Zealand taxi driver to the airport this week imparted that; “you don’t choose where to settle, it chooses you.”

Manly and the Northern Beaches are home to more British Expats than I care to imagine, I mean its understandable, why move halfway round the world and not live but the beach?  Unfortunately I feel this part of Sydney is spoilt by its surroundings and in talking to a lot of people here it simply doesn’t have the oomph of Europe.  The passion behind politics and life driven by culture and quite simply the numbers of people.  There is always the natural beauty of the location that seems to allow people to either ignore or gloss over the passion.

Whilst here I have surfed everyday there has been surf not just weekends but before and after work but it still isn’t enough, I need more than just my hobbies to keep me focused.

I have met many people who have moved out here and stayed and it is easy to see why and I ask myself is it all about timing this feeling of being settled.  The choices and friends you make and miss all start to lead you somewhere.  Part of me feels that the last year I have been drifting which is exactly what a sabbatical is for, but now it is time to get serious, where am I going to live and focus on the next adventure.

I write this after just arriving in Indonesia after enduring a cramped plane with a broken foot.  Cars constantly flirt with their horns and blink their disco brake lights at each other surrounded by the unmistakeable smell of heat, frangipane flowers and sweet clove cigarettes.  I guess I can drift a little while longer.

Not long left now.

Kinder

 

LSC Surfy Bit

There are SO many breaks in and around Sydney within a two hour drive.  In fact most people rarely drive more than thirty minutes and even then prefer to stay closer to home.  This is a bonus because, if, like us, you are used to driving for upwards of four hours – well I guess I rarely drove, bit of a car slut me – a one to two hour drive will be met with crystal, swimming pool like, waters empty line ups and pumping waves plus maybe a few sharks.

A couple of general things about Sydney and its swells.  First; you are lucky, very lucky if you get a period of over 10 seconds.  This is because almost all of the swells are generated close to shore they simply do not get the fetch like we do across the Atlantic. Second; get good at duck diving, the beaches are, as the name suggests mainly beach breaks and when the swells to hit it can be a punishing paddle out.

The better swells tend to come from the south though they are often preceded by NE swells before and after.  Direct southerly swells hit the southern beaches best but put a little east in it and the sheltered corners of the northern beaches begin to look a lot more inviting.

If you surf, you want to live on the northern beaches.  Yes, you can live in Bondi and have access to the other four breaks in the area – Bronte being my favourite – be close to the city etc etc but the northern beaches gives you access to twenty or more breaks within about an hours drive.  That said I shall stick to my three actually four favourite northern beaches breaks and two day trips that I did, the rest is up to you to find which, lets be honest is dead easy as there are so many guidebooks and web cams available.

Queenscliff aka Queensie

I surfed here more than anywhere else because I lived directly above it and it took me four minutes from my door to the sea and the nice little rip out by the rockpool/lido, but keep you mouth shut as some pretty nasty water comes out here after the rains.

Freshwater aka Freshi

I have a soft spot for this break, whenever I have taken people here they have a ‘shit surf’ but its awesome when working and faces directly south picking up all the swell but remaining sheltered from all but the direct southerly winds.  It often comes with a more ‘family’ and chatty vibe without tourists and it is definitely one of the prettiest breaks of the Northern Beaches.  I also happen to be a volunteer Lifeguard here!

 

Long Reef aka Longi

If the southerly swell is in town and there is little to no wind/westerly – here is where it will be pumping up and down the beach.  There is a outer reef that works for the longboards at mid tide and a stream that empties into the middle forming a nice bank.  A true favourite if we can’t be bothered to drive the extra ten minutes for a much quieter line up at Mona Vale.  I broke my foot here.

Avalon

This picks up big southerly and northern swells and has a slab called Little Avalon.  It has sand covered rocks tot he south, and centre with eh north end forming nice long rides when the NE swell hits.

When its big this can often be quite sheltered and when its on its truly world class – so much so in fact Kelly Slater has a flat overlooking the break.

The only thing people don’t like about this beach is the sand is ‘a little coarse’ but really – who cares.

Central Coast; Pelican Beach, aka Pelos’

Crystal clear, in fact swing pool quality water will invite you here time and again.  I have surfed it when its been pretty heavy and barreling with a demanding paddle out, and when its been 30+ degrees and nice gentle peaks.

Secret breaks galore round here…you just have to know the banks and where the sharks aren’t.  I don’t suggest you surf to far into dusk like I did only to be told:”jee ma8T you were out there a while – its a bit shaky round ‘ere”

Royal National Park; Garies Beach, Mid Era

This is truly a beautiful beach in the middle of the National Park.  Great little break and if you can be bothered to walk around the corner there is massive potential – you just have to walk.

I’m surprised at the lack of clarity given on several websites about how to get a visa and how long it will last. Im from the UK but flying in from Australia and I’m only going to focus on tourist visas for that’s all I have had experience in.

There are three basic types:
1. Standard 30 day entrance tourist visa. Simply que at immigration and get the stamp. This is NON EXTENDABLE. But you can do a visa run and get another 30 days. This is often a $250 Aud return flight to Kuala Lumpur/Singapore.
2. Standard visa on arrival, VOA, for 30 days. This you pay for at Denpasar airport, $35 USD, this is where I flew into. It get in a different Q! This one you CAN get extended to 60 days but the slow process will take 10+ days and you will need to part with your passport for a couple of days and visit the immigration department for your photo to be taken near the airport. You can do this yourself or pay someone to do it. Check the place is reputable this is your passport we’re talking about. This costs about $34 AUD for the service and about the same for the visa. You can do the fast version, takes about a week all in for roughly double. You can only extend it once. Despite all the above I have read some blogs that said at Lombok airport they are friendly and you can often get your VOA 30 day visa don get it extended when you arrive….
3. Apply before you arrive. But this has to be done a short period before you get there and can be a pain if in another country so I didn’t research this any further!
4. Overrun your visa and pay approx $20 USD/day…

Put simply if you want to stay more than forty days it is by far the simplest and cheapest option to do a day visa run – so factor this into your plans!

Bibliography;

How to Extend Your Visa in Bali

https://www.lonelyplanet.com/thorntree/forums/asia-south-east-asia-islands-peninsula/indonesia/how-long-do-i-have-to-out-of-the-country-to-renew-30-day-visa-on-arrival

Extending a 30 Day VOA (Visa on Arrival) in Bali

https://www.bali.com/visa-indonesia-entry-requirements-bali.html

After a prolonged period of surf, eat, sleep, repeat I was starting to really see an improvement in my surfing but I just could not help I was missing so much more of these countries other than the beach/rocky points.  Time for my third inland trip of my travels: Guatemala’s ruins and natural beauty awaited.

After an already long 6hr trip was turned into an 9hr one – an ageing stuck in the mud hippy cyclist who knew nothing about cycling or getting the correct paperwork to cross boarders; the mind you immediately take a glance at and understand there’s going to be difficulty – we arrived, with a police escort in Antigua.

Immediately the city grabbed my attention. We arrived in the rain pelted Central Parque which was teaming with people in the Spanish colonial arcades that enclosed this newly revamped classical square. With lit up colonnades and a magnificent half ruined cathedral at one end I knew I had made the right decision, checked into my room had a beer on the rather wet roof terrace and collapsed in bedroom that didn’t require and fan or AC – I slept well.

It’s hard not to include many pictures of ruined colonial churches surround by volcanoes, this city by day was just as intriguing.

Damaged by several earthquakes the latest in 1976 quake, with a magnitude of 7.5 Mw, and with one of the volcanoes still active I’m not sure what more you need but it also has a thriving art and food scene. Explosive.

Three visits worth mentioning:

1. Cerro de crux; what a view over the city of volcanoes and earthquakes. Apparently dangerous but I never once felt threatened go in the day, I’d suggest a tuk tuk to the top (but walk in) and then walk down!

2. The monastery: a left over ruin with a concentric circular plan for the monastic cells and a beautiful courtyard.

1. The chocolate museum: learn about the history and how chocolate is made then sit down for a hot chocolate like no other; bowls of raw chocolate paste, honey and chilli which you mix to your own preference in a suitable authentic hug and accompanying milk accompanied with banana bread from Dona Luisa Xicoteneatl (best ever I went next door after and bought a loaf!).

Then after a night or two out – and spending the next day recovering, falling asleep in, the dark Colonial Art Museum, because they couldn’t turn the lights on due to the rain…it was time to go deeper into Guatemala and a very very cold overnight bus later I arrived at an island in the middle of a lake; Flores. From here I was to visit Tikal.

Tikal, despite its appearance in the first ever Star Wars film, is hard to describe.  Still surrounded by jungle and with the same natural energy of ancient past it cannot fail to make an impression.

One bribed guard and sunset later I was on my way again – time was running out the forecast for surf was building – Semuc Champey was the next stop and for the first time I truly found myself on a backpacker trail sharing a packed minibus with three loud occa Aussies, two kiwis and a man from Derbyshire. After two hours of the guess who game, the counting of speed bumps, everyone’s favourite colour, I had to resort to my Spanish lessons. 8hrs of my life never to return but when we pulled in Lanquin, I had to wait a few more hours till another bus arrived (that had left from the same place but took longer) to take me to the idyll that was Semuc Champey.

This place at night was beautiful, the next day was going to be good.

A word on stereotypes; they are what the word imbibes – a typical representation of their type, culture and country.  Or a for perhaps a more acute way of putting this can be found in the Urban Dictionary: ‘A stereotype is used to categorize a group of people. People don’t understand that type of person, so they put them into classifications, thinking that everyone who is that needs to be like that, or anyone who acts like their classifications is one.”

It has also since been pointed out to me on a recent long car ride that the very fact I am writing a blog of my travels is in fact also a stereotype and something until then had escaped my recognition – oh well, onwards regardless.

Perhaps the most astounding, so called stereotypes I have met yet are the Americans. Now this may be because I am more used to Australians but these guys and gals fit their bill to a T.  Bold brash and loud they instantly tick all the boxes until you actually spend some time with them, then they begin to surprise and delight.

On this occasion when we entered the reserve of Semuc Champey and started to follow the sweaty trail to the base of a set of steps that disappeared vertiginously up the side of a rock face, these two american girls looked up and wondered what they had got themselves into, exclaiming that they were glad they hadn’t worn their flip flops today – quarter of the way up and they were resting every 10-20 steps and guzzling water with brilliant loud expressions of exhaustion!  Whilst instantly being a stereotype they instantly added a humour to the pretty nasty sweat drenching climb and subsequent drenching of a thunderstorm.

The series of turquoise pools at Semuc Champey seemed to overflow with the same hidden flowing energy of the river that was gushing beneath us and charged the atmosphere of beauty with something only equalled by standing amongst the ruins of Tikal.  You dived into the crystal water to swim float and slide down the interconnecting pools marvelling at the clarity and jungle covered mountain setting, a must if you ever come and visit this country.

But our day was no to end there our guide rushed us back for lunch then to, as is the case in most of these situations, an innocuous entrance into a cave system.  He calmly handed us an orange, somewhat homemade candle, lit them all for us and walked on into the darkness.  Wow, if ever there was a lesson in how health and safety has stripped the romance and sense of adventure out of fun, this was it!  Quickly we were up to our waists in cold water, then our chests then we were swimming, or trying to swim with one hand wobblingly held aloft with the candle spluttering and dripping wax onto our hands.  the comments such as “oh my fu<*ing sh1t this is scary” from the American girls made it all the more authentic and on we went deeper in to the system climbing ladders swimming through pools, climbing waterfalls via a knotted rope until we reached a rock jump.  Yes, a rock jump in the semi darkness into a pool of water that was pitch black.  I can’t really describe the feeling when seeing the first person, Ankit, make the leap barely missing the roof of the cave with his head only to plunge into the blackness below and reappear with ‘sense of relief’ smeared all across his face.

About turn then, I took up the rear guard with Ankit and revelled in the blackness that was now engulfing us from behind.   Easy we though back the same way; – no – back down the waterfall, swim across a few pools, up a ladder and out but no.   We took a left turn and squeezed through a gap to be confronted with our guide pointing down a water chute that made us all wonder if he was crazy – the american girls didn’t hesitate, through they went first and to screams of “what the ..” we knew it would all be ok and we would make it back to the light.

That done this day was not over and grabbing lorry car inner tubes we gladly bought some cans of beer climbed in them and had 20 minutes of serene beer drinking floating down the river – bliss.  A short walk back up the path to more uncontrollable discussions between the two girls about laser surgery to the bums and we were home.  What an a mazing day and thank you to all who made it so.

The next day it was back to Antigua up a very bumpy stone/rubble road for three hours on a wooden seat covered in plastic and wedged in-between seats in the aisle. But even my numb cramped but cheeks could not put a dent in the adventures of Guatemala with my inland journey having met all my expectations and more with yet more to come.

Next step was a return to the ocean.

Kinder

Well not much can be said apart from “go with the flow” for the last couple of weeks! (This blog may be a bit surf orientated…)

After stressing about getting to Las Flores everything fell nicely into place.  After meeting Alexa in the street, a Brit soon to be Aussi, and deciding we’d go to Las Flores together we missed the first offered lift, didn’t book the shuttle in time – but – met two great Puerto Rican boys: Jose and Manuel. They had hired a car and were heading our way, perfect. (More importantly these guys spoke Spanish!)

We decided to surf K59 early the next morning which turned out to be a session to forget with me almost dropping in on a local as Manuel called me into a wave and then almost landing on the same local when he got caught inside – this left the atmosphere in the already tumultuous messy waves somewhat tempestuous.

K59 local grafitti 

Cerviche was the answer and after a quick tour of La Libertad’s fish market/pier – where I had never seen such huge red snapper or massive stingray being gutted before – we were very glad of our new Spanish speaking comrades (comrades is definitely the word in this part of the world) and their ability to order us the most amazing cerviche, let the games begin I thought, but no it was amazing and fresh.

Onto Las Flores then, and after checking out the decidedly “stable looking” accommodation previously suggested we drove into a beach and met with Rancho Mama Cata, our best find.  Simple, family run, affordable, 10-20 paces from one of the best waves in the world.

Thanks to Manuel and Jose we discovered that the entire beach (minus the exclusive [v expensive] resort of Las Flores) of Las Flores, surf photogs, boats, accom, etc was one big happy community and shared all profits amongst themselves so as to not create competition or angst within the family and relatives. Holistic heaven.

Good sunset session in paradise was followed by plans to do a boat trip – yeah I know it’s meant to be a road trip but unfortunately our tyres were dubiously bald to the point that you could see the wire sticking out of one of them so no driving, even chancing, off road – my second boat trip and best yet. Again thanks to Our fluent Spanish speaking friends we arranged the perfect time for tide, size and more importantly no crowd.

Las Flores (Rancho Mama Cata is located immediately below me to the left).

Punta Mango was the destination, oh my, what a wave.  I got ‘worked’ straight away; hitting my arse on the rocks and ripping my brand new shorts – at least it wasn’t my face! The ensuing waves just got better and better and then the early morning boatloads of Brazilians went home and BINGO we had the place to us four and maybe four others. We surfed till we couldn’t lift our arms anymore then it was back for lunch and then a paddle out at our ‘home’ break and jeez, this break was awesome too and with our consequent timing we were almost alone*.

Alexa focusing on what lies after the shorter boat ride.

*It is difficult not to overstate this outrageous possibility of a wave of this calibre and surfing it almost alone. In the UK, if we had a wave like this, there would be something like 50 people trying and 50 people getting into a fight about who owned it/had the ‘right’ to surf it!  I recently overheard (in Putsborough, Devon) some idiot claim ‘I own the ocean so f**k off back to where you came from’. To quantify that Putsborough gets a 0.5 on the wave rating calculator and Las Flores a healthy 8.

Dead and hungry we ate, drank two beers and went to bed.

The boys helping push the boat back up the beach whilst I ‘document’ the occasion.

Day three we maxed out on amazing Las Flores and then decided to make a late dash for home as the swell 8-12ft was meant to be hitting Punta Rocca the next day and these Puerto Rican hellboys wanted in. Damn so was I.

But as the sun set on our car, whilst speeding past the second most dangerous city in the world, little did the volcanic scenery hint at our impending doom.

Pre blow out.

About 30 mins outside of San Salvador, the foremost dangerous city in the world, BANG, no more vibrations…our tyre had finally blown. Bugger.

We all swung into action and I have to say, at the time, I never really understood how dangerous this might be, I just thought “damn, time to change a tyre for the 3rd time in my life (all three have been on hire cars…)”.  Alexa however was careful to remind us where we were, gulp.

I’ll spare you the boring description (picture four wealthy [comparatively to El Salvador] one with a nice looking head torch, thanks bro knew it would come in useful, changing a tyre with four surfboards and four nice looking hold-alls on the side of the road) we changed the tyre and were soon on our way with a spare tyre, 5″ bigger, only to then swerve and avoid an apparently dead body in the middle of the road. Shit did our conscious play on us until it was pointed out, thanks again bro, that this tactic could be disingenuous.

La Libertad couldn’t come sooner but after a quick – weird – late night stop at the supermarket we then had to go around a car in the middle of the road with its alarm going off and a guy clearly trying to hot wire it. NEVER DRIVE AT NIGHT IN EL SALVADOR.

Mananna – Punta Rocca was beginning to ‘fire’ but by Tuesday it was pumping.  Now although this photo isn’t of me I assure you I was very close by and panicking – well I was until I caught one of these beauties and had my heart in my mouth all along the long long ride until I kicked out turned around, smiled, smiled some more then kind of laughed! Surfing – that’s why we do it.

Then a solo sunset surf in maching (12ft +) Zunzal and I was ready to teach the group shithead (now forever to include a new rule involving literally hitting your head on the table table) and get drunk to give an appropriately British farewell to an amazing couple of guys.

Thanks to Alexa, Manuel and Jose for making a special impact on my already special trip!

Kinder

P.S. I even missed out the power cut that meant we had our table chairs and fish dinner carried to the beach with candles…in short if in el cuco eat in the red restaurant on the right, NOT the green one on the left.

LSC Surfy bit

I’ve said pretty much all you need to know above, however, I can’t stress how much more social and friendly the line up became with two Spanish speaking friends – definitely make an effort to learn the language.

For more details see each break below.

Punta Rocca

Rocky point break. Don’t try and surf the point the locals won’t let you. Best to surf when they aren’t I.e. 0500-0730 and 0900-1530.

Surf on a low incoming tide – forecast needs to be over 4ft to work.

Much safer now a family monopolises looking after your car (inc. key)/sandals and t shirt if you got the bus/providing coconuts/taking pictures and finally providing the most excellent service of board caddy while you are scrambling around trying to get out after a long session. They have sandpaper feet. TIP APPROPRIATELY.

If it’s big, getting in is kind of ok but scary, getting out however becomes difficult there is a freight train of a current running over the rocks – it is much simpler to catch a big one all the way to the beach and walk back round.

THAT day at Punta Rocca, trust me, paddle round when its this big.

Las Flores

The view of El Cuco and its beach from Mirra Flores (Las Flores is off to the right out of shot as my camera died) = potential.

Sand bottomed point break.

Surf on a low incoming tide and it has a steep pitching take off that barrels off the point but can get sectiony.

Surf on an incoming/dropping mid tide and the take off is more forgiving and the wall just runs forever.

For it really to work the forecast needs to be 4-5ft+ and bear in mind the swell actually normally hits a day later than the web forecasts, don’t ask why, ask the locals.

Stay in Rancho Mama Cata or with a bit of a search you can get a bargain on this place: Mirra Flores which is where Dino stayed.

Punta Mango

The view of the breaks surrounding Punta Mango which is in the far distance.

Barrelling point break over sharp rocks at take off and then a nice sandy beach for the rest. If by car enter from the beach, if by boat – jump.

Smallish day at Punto Mango (forecast was 3-4ft swell).

Best surf at low incoming tide but really can work on all tides, surf after 0900 at midday and late in the evening to avoid boats and crowds. Thanks to LSC member Dino and gang we scored it perfectly, just us four out there.  I had such a great time with you guys thanks; Dino, Gazza and Pedro.

A touch windy, but we surf much worse than this at home, besides 30mins after getting back in it cleaned up and it was only us four out there.

Again if you drive; appropriately tip the ‘guard’.

You can stay local to this break at Rancho Mango but bring food/money ($30/day).

[I’m back in three weeks so this never ending surf porn may stop soon – oh hang on, thats right, I’m off to Australia – so maybe more shots of crowded perfect surf to come]

So what do you do when there are no waves? Go jump waterfalls of course!

The surf here has been pretty small but despite that i have still had an amazing time, wether re-discovering my favourite method of transport, in the back of a pick up, or going for a hike into the hills surrounding El Tunco, El Salvador, all has been done with some amazing old friends from Nicaragua and some new ones I met on the street.

After my nightmare three days in the hostel from hell, I checked into another hostel called Layback, recommended by some Aussies in Popoyo, and lo and behold there was Marlissa who I had met twice before on my travels through Nicaragua.  A total free spirit travelling the world she instantly made me feel at home with a sunset beer and introduced me to the owner, Javier.

The surf was small so the next day Nadine, Marisa and I caught the Lupita, Jesus and Chelsea supporting, bus up into the hills surrounding El Tunco to Tamaniuqe.  

We got off where told and quickly hired the services of a 14 year old boy to guide us to the waterfalls and back.  Despite being up higher we were all sweating within minutes but fortunately down was the way and we soon emerged at the first waterfall where we all gladly jumped in were instantly refreshed by the cool mountain water.  This was the coldest I had been in over a month and it was difficult to leave the mesmeric rhythm of the cascading water.  I thought right now its time to go back, but no, there were five more and the last one, reached by a precipitous bum sliding descent, was simply beautiful.

This one was truly hard to leave, but the sound of more people arriving meant that we would no longer have the place to ourselves, 

Mark and Katerina, who helped me celebrate my birthday not too long ago, arrived that day and obviously a welcoming dinner was had and beers were sunk with stories exchanged and we retired for the night, but not before I bumped into another Brit, soon to be Aussie, Alexa who had just come down from Alaska and learning how to be a Helicopter Ski and Mountain Guide! 

What ensued was days of endless fun either chasing small waves, hanging out in hammocks, and countless dinners and beers with these wonderful people. (see header below for pictures of surf) 

What I’ve noticed since my last ’travelling’ days back in 2002/3 is the amount of people who are either working remotely or even making money, at least able to move around cheaply, out of travelling and writing/blogging/vlogging.  It is the power of the internet and incredible to see how everyone is connected to the grid almost all the time.  Maybe Superstudio’s vision really is coming true.  

Perhaps I am homesick, now that I am halfway through my trip, or am I just jealous but I feel they are missing something.   A habitat where you feel ingrained within the fabric of that which surrounds you, a home.  I guess i’m just jealous then!

Mark and Katerina have now left but I’m trying to remain patient whilst I try and persuade Alexa that she really must visit Las Flores, and whilst waiting for the decision to be made we missed a lift down there with eh surfing Rabbi. However, I am just about learning to go with the flow, let things happen and ‘chill maan’. It was because of this that we met Diego who put us in touch with two Puerto Ricans and just like that we had a lift down to Las Flores, a hire car and two new, Spanish speaking, friends and we are off on a road trip.

Hasta Luego,

Kinder

None of these stories would have been possible without good friends:

Alexa (www.stillstoked.com)

Marlissa (www.facebook.com/mybluediscovery)

Mark and Katerina (www.carpzilla.de)

LSC SURF REPORT

After my last description of the spots I haven’t really moved, but I thought I would add this image I grabbed from Google Maps showing some of the spots and if that doesn’t persuade you to get on the next flight then hopefully the photos in my next report of the coming forecast will. 

I also thought you might like some photos/videos of me wiping out – enjoy.