A Bowl of Stupid

Transcribed: Wednesday, 4 July 2007; 20:55:56 18:27:19

As noted ad nauseam elsewhere, I’ve not updated about my travels for some time now (even via notepad to be uploaded upon my return to Singapore) because I’ve been living without electricity for … well, some time now.

My last travel post, which I just re-read, was about when I first arrived in Lombok, and in particular, at the small fishing village of Banko Banko on Lombok’s southeastern-most tip, to go surf at a place called “Desert Point.”

In looking back at that post, and my own thoughts, it’s amazing to see just how jaded I was about my arrival there. Indeed, despite all my initial fears and trepidations, Desert Point has been the closest thing to home I’ve found here in the Indo archipelago. This is also funny since Desert Point is generally considered to be one of the most primitive surf spots in Indo.

When I first got to Deserts (well, actually Banco Banco, which is the actual village about 10-15 kilometers away), as mentioned earlier, I stayed at a “home-stay” owned and operated by guy named Suriman.

 
(Another pic from my initial accommodations in Banko Banko, as well as my immediate neighbors - a family of chickens that lived under my bungalow, a portent of signs to come).

However, after having been carried on the back of the motocross bike driven by Suriman’s son whilst I was carrying my surfboard over on inhuman stretch of what can only VERY generously be called a “road” extending the 10-15 kilometers from Suriman’s place to the actual surf break, I decided to move down to the beach itself.

Granted, Deserts itself has only several huts that house both the local villagers AND their various farm animals (if I never hear another fucking rooster crowing at 4:30 a.m. DIRECTLY under my mattress, it will be too goddamn soon), a hole in the ground that serves as a toilet, a fresh-water well where you can rinse “clean,” and the “love shack” – which serves nasi/mi gorang (fried rice/noodles), banana pancakes, Coke, Fanta, and Bintang.

 
(A picture of my room at the much famed "Desert Point Hilton", as well as a pic of me and my new friend Norman out front of the "hotel restaurant" - The Love Shack.)

But the people who live in that village are the best people I’ve met here so far. Period. End of story.

They are kind, warm, VERY intelligent (I got schooled in chess about 2 dozen times by a fucking 12 year old, plus they all speak English in some form or another), VERY protective, and man can some of the kids surf (that same chess-playing 12 year old, Guzman, who will most likely be sponsored by a major surf company by years end).

 
(A typical day at Desert Point, waiting for the tides to change and for all the rich yacht people to go back to Bali)

The only problem is that Desert Point, having been rated as being THE best surf break in the world by several commentators, attracts luxury “surf-cruise” yachts like flies to manure.

Shit, before I moved here, I thought about taking one of those cruises – which usually leave out of Bali for 7-10 days at a “nominal” cost of $US6-10,000.00 – with my ex-neighbor (who, although I liked well enough, is JUST the type of money-grubbing surf traveler-turd who frequent those cruises).

Now, every time I see one of those boats, I just want to torpedo them out of the water.

The local guys hate them even more than I do – and rightly so. Not only do those fucktards steal, snake, and drop-in on all the best waves at Deserts, they also deprive the local guys their much needed food sales and rental revenues.

Sme of the local guys can’t really surf all that great, but they are selfless and fun. The time I spent in the water at Deserts with them, and them alone, have been the best times of this trip I’ve spent in the water so far. By far.

 
(A pic of me at Deserts during my first week there, and then another pic with a fellow traveler and the owner of my room - from my second trip there. The buildings are all owned collectively by the village, and they allow tourists to stay in whatever rooms are available. When there are no tourists, they go back and sleep in those rooms themselves.)

However, the locals will not extend the same courtesy to guys coming off the boat – and rightly so. In fact, being as smart as they are, the Desert’s guys have some up with one of the most ingenious practices I’ve ever seen to protect their break.

When these fucknuts decide to surf, they take a skiff from the comfy confines of their boats about 200 meters to the break. And when they decide to leave, they signal the captain to be picked up by waving their surfboards in the air.

The local guys picked up on this trick in about, ohh … 1 day.

So what do you think the locals do when they want these boat guys to leave the break? Exactly. They wave their boards in the air to make the boat captain think they’re from the boat and they want go back in. It's hysterical, and the boat guys obviously can do nothing (would YOU yell at a bunch of wild-looking Indo guys — several of the younger kids surfing completely nekkid — while you're at their break?).

But when the locals DO wave their boards, most times the boating guys obviously aren’t ready to leave yet (and if they ARE ready to leave, hell, that’s even better). But the Captain HAS to keep sending out the skiff just in case – which pisses him off to high hell. And after doing it a number of times, the Captain simply FORCES the surfers to get back on the boat until after the locals go back onshore just so he stops wasting gas sending his skill back and forth to the break. I told you they were fucking ingenious.

So if anyone is ever interested in surfing what is probably the best “left” in the world (and yes Mike G., Bernardo, et al., it IS better than Pavones, Costa Rica), please, please, PLEASE do not visit it on a boat.

Do the right thing. Ask me — I'll give you all the information you need. It's not that hard.

Either rent a car or bike or take a bus, and take the ferry from Bali (leaving from Padang Bai) to Lombok (arriving at Lambert) – hell, you can even take a 30 minute flight from Denpassar Bali to Mataran Lombok for $US40.00 – and then go overland the 2-3 hours to Desert Point.

Bring some TP, some soap, bug spray, a first aid kit, a whole bunch of books, and your own mosquito net.

Oh yeah, VERY IMPORTANTLY, You MUST also bring reef-booties – because although it’s a relatively “soft” reef, you’ll have to walk a very long way to get out to the break. And regardless, Deserts breaks in about 2-3 feet of water at high tide (1-2 feet at low tide). Trust me, the last thing you want to do is get your feet all cut up on the reef simply from walking back out (like yours truly).

(A look of my feet at the "height" of my podiatric misery, after getting eaten up on a variety of reefs).

Seriously though, forget about the feet. The point of all this is the great time I had at Deserts.

You can stay there for a full week (as I did the second time I was there) relaxing right on the beach, eating chocolate-banana pancakes, watching the tides and surf, ready to go out at a moments notice, for a grand total of somewhere around US$40.00.

It is heaven. Plain and simple.

And if you’re a goofy-foot looking to catch one of the best barrels you’ll ever see, well then, you’ll be in paradise – until those goddamn boats come.

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