(The cosmic sea turtle upon which the universe rests, and whose offspring once upon a time called Serangan Island home and haven, has twitched and sprinkled salty drops upon my Internet, so this is an abbreviated post. More tomorrow.)
There is a verse in the Surfing Bible, “All we like sheep have gone astray and surfed Serangan Island.”
When a stiff westerly blows under polished blue skies, and an easy swell saunters through after a flat spell, then the whole surfing world, or the fraction thereof in Bali, jaunts over to Serangan Island, from local rippers who can flip a rotation over your head, to a vegan full beard hippie with fried brain who uses a cloud as a lineup marker, to the surf school chick flounder who paddles out not to learn how to surf but because her Balinese surf instructor is hot hot hot and she is hopeful for some après-ski cross-cultural interaction.
Such as today, gorgeous weather and steady offshore and the swell tossing up an intermittent head high wave, with fifty plus surfers, on various surfcraft, assembled on the one peak that was breaking, barely offering enough surf for five polite surfers taking turns.
I came, I saw, I did not conquer but turned around and left (on what is probably at present the crappiest road to a surf spot, although it’s a highway compared to the old Bukit tracks to places like Greenballs.)
Part II tomorrow.