We said our final goodbyes to Simon Horn on Friday, July 27. The Balinese ash scattering ceremony was held at Lembeng Beach, otherwise known as Biaung or Secrets to surfers, on a wooly windy day with a three to four foot south swell pushing a lot of choppy water. When Simon’s ashes were consigned to the cleansing sea, a set at least twice as large as any rolled in. We noted how Simon would have said, this is for my wife Made and my family and bandjar, but now take me to my kiting spot. Thus we convoyed to Mertasari in Sanur, where the Rip Curl Surf & Kite School graciously hosted the paddle out for another scattering of ashes in the lagoon, where Simon’s oldest son Thaison, assisted by second son Anthony, conducted a moment of remembrance.
A bittersweet occasion. We saw many friends we hadn’t seen in a long time — only a ceremony like this would get us to get in our cars and brave the afternoon traffic from Nusa Dua and the Bukit and Gianyar. Chatting with all the old timers, legends and hermits and misfits, this blog correspondent was once again reminded that his own personal history might cover a long span but a narrow one. So much history gathered together there. There was also the new generation, from hot grommets (boys & girls) and at least one baby happily floating in his inner tube, to young guns. Not to mention a couple dozen kiters slamming through the rollers, some of whom let down in the water to join the circle.
And a barbecue with Bintang beer.
Simon wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.