Category: nature

Dreaming or Reality?

by surfchickareta, posted in adventure, exploration, girls surfing, nature, surfing

Close to three days of tedious, but thrilling solo travel from airport to airport, port to port, island to island. The weather didn’t offer the most comforting arrival, for she decided to let the swells rise and the winds roar across the open ocean, whipping up bucketloads of water to soak everything within the age-old wooden boat I was travelling in. Passing jagged reefs and palm trees bent backwards in the strong winds, I could only imagine the island paradise it would be under blue skies and calm winds.

The Indonesian “captain” of the boat eyed off a narrow passage in the reef and began to steer the long wooden boat towards shore. I could just make out the thatched roof of the surf camp nestled at the foot of a dense jungle, my vision blurred by the constant onslaught of salt water burning my eyes. Six foot tall, muscular, tanned and covered in tats, he stood at the shore eagerly awaiting my arrival. With the engine cutting off just before reaching the broken coral shore, he rushed towards the boat and was waist deep in water, dragging the boat to finally touch the safety of land. “Sorry about the weather”, he said in a thick Argentinian accent with a big grin. “All part of the adventure isn’t it?” I replied letting out a burst of laughter.

Waking delirious from a deep sleep in the middle of the night, I noticed a myriad of light in the atmosphere and loud thunder out to sea. The full moon illuminated the sky, the golden paradiselight glistened off the ocean surface at the foot of my bed. I had been set up in a bamboo hut at the end of a coral bay, with the ocean lapping at the foot of the hut. Bolts of lightning broke unforgivingly into the ocean at the horizon line. I could feel a strong wind pick up and pass through the open window and realised the storm front was rapidly heading towards the island. I got up and literally “battened down the hatches” as there was no window to the hut simply a wooden hatch. The wind grew stronger by the minute and I felt as though the hut could lift right off its base and carry me into the dark jungle behind, never to be seen again.

The last dream I recall before waking that morning was so intensely vivid it felt so real as to transpire. I dreamt I was living in a timber shack on a tropical island, waking and opening the door to see absolutely perfect waves and an equally as dreamy man walking up the beach towards me with a hottropical paradise cup of coffee. It was then that I actually opened my eyes and woke up amazed at the dream I had just had. I was still delirious from travelling and for a moment I forgot where I was. I then realised I was in a timber hut and remembered the storm the night before and how I closed the timber hatch, therefore I was in lying in a darkened room. I rose to open the door to allow light in and I couldn’t believe my eyes. The moon was setting over the ocean, the surf was absolutely pumping, a perfect left-hander peeling off directly in front of the hut and a deep blue sky above. I cast my eyes up the coral bay and there he was walking up the beach with a cup of coffee “good morning beautiful”.

I’ve always been one to experience vivid dreams but I had never experienced a dream so intense as the first night I spent on this island. It was such a powerful merge of dream and reality, I had a hard time distinguishing which was which. In fact this was just the beginning of many twists on reality. I’m not sure what it came down to, but my only guess is that when you take yourself away from “society” and live so free on a remote island, indulging in the finest acts of freedom you begin to experience time at a heightened level. Kind of like being inside the barrel. Scientists still haven’t been able to explain the amazing phenomenon, where multiple surfers over the decades describe time standing still when they are deep in the heart of the barrel. Each day over the two months I spent at this island felt as though I was gifted with two days in one. Time was actually extended. I spent my days painting underneath the palm trees, surfing waves beyond perfection, diving and weaving throughout ribbed coral gardens, exploring dense jungles and racing by motorbike through remote villages.

island life freedomWhile it’s hard for the average person to ever experience this kind of feeling in their lifetime, due to work, financial and family commitments, if at some point you can escape “reality” for a couple of months to dive deep into your passions in a remote country, you will never forget in your lifetime the magic of those moments and how you cheated the ticking clock that so many of us abide by each and every day.

girl diving

Waves at the foot of Thailand?

by surfchickareta, posted in adventure, exploration, girls surfing, nature, surfing

Two months straight spent in the remote Mentawai Islands in Northern Indonesia is such an incredible amount of time to bask in waves beyond perfection. Time itself becomes an illusion and having no rules to be dictated by makes life taste so sweet. However I was certainly ready to escape back into the “real world” for a break and to re-appreciate life in the islands. Mum was flying over from Australia to spend three weeks with me throughout Malaysia and Bali.

I found myself mostly inland in Malaysia, exploring ancient cities far away from the world of surfing and learning surfing Malaysiaabout colourful cultures.

After researching a small island off the coast of Malaysia, I spontaneously booked mum and I some cheap flights and we were on our way. Hiring a car we drove around the island in a day, finding monkeys in forests, waterfalls and beautiful untouched beaches.

One morning I woke early and went to find a beach we could both enjoy for the day. Winding through the beach roads under jungle canopies, I found myself down the end of a sandy road, where the ocean opened up to a chain of lush islands and limestone cliffs in the distance.

As I got closer I saw some swell in the shore break. I couldn’t believe my eyes, I never knew waves to be in Malaysia but there was a good 2ft of swell!

Racing back to our unit, I told mum the exciting news as she woke with sleepy eyes. I said we had to go straight back to the beach I had discovered so I could try to find a surfboard of sorts.

“Aren’t we meant to return the car and check out in a couple of hours?” she asked with concern. “It doesn’t matter they seem pretty cruisy around here, c’mon you have no idea how exciting this is!”, I replied as I pictured myself on the cover of Tracks Magazine surfing at the foot of Thailand with the green islands as a backdrop.

I started grabbing things I thought mum would need for a lovely day at the beach, sunblock, bathers, towel and placed them next to her in bed. “Pleaaase c’mon I’ll buy you lunch if we can go now”. Reluctantly she got out of bed rolling her eyes with a small grin.

We pulled up at the end of the road and I bolted off to try find a surfboard. “Wait I need you to put some sunscreen on my back”, mum asked. I turned around mid-run with my hair flying in the breeze, feeling like a puppy with its tongue hanging out of the car window at 100km speed, “Back soon!” I replied.

I had trouble containing my excitement as I raced from timber beach shack to timber beach shack eyeing off the stack of assorted tourists toys, wakeboards and blow up rafts, but no surfboards. I checked two timber shacks and at the last one I spotted a grommet’s shortboard under the pile of other boards.

By this stage my heart was racing out of my chest as I shuffled the board out of the pile. The only people on the surfing in Malaysiabeach at this stage were a few Muslim women bearing entirely black hijabs, their eyes the only part of skin revealed.

They stood in the sand with hands resting on hips and curious eyes glued at the site of this blonde girl running around with a surfboard.

I frantically tried to find the owner of the board and asked the first Malay guy I saw. “Selamat Pagi, I really, really want to go surfing on this board, do you know whose it is?”. I asked. “Pagi, uhh this is my brothers, he is not here yet, I can’t let you use it until I check with him is ok” He replied.

“Oh please I know how to surf I won’t break it, here I have money”. I said as I pulled some Ringgit out of my pocket, some notes flying loose in the sand. “I want to check with him that it is ok first”, he responded. I kept pulling more notes out of my pocket until he couldn’t resist.

Handing the notes to him and thanking him profusely, I skipped off down the beach, waving to mum with a big grin as she sat on the beach awkwardly trying to lather sunscreen on her back. Shit I forgot.

Making a detour I ran up to her, “Can you believe it, I got a surfboard!”. I yelled excitedly. “That’s nice honey, can you please put some sunscreen on me, it’s baking hot already, I’m going to get so burnt”. I squirted out far too much sunscreen and loosely massaged the cream into her back, leaving a white coating over her skin, before grabbing the board and bolting into the ocean. “Won’t be long!” I yelled back to her.

Even after surfing two months of solid conditions, I think I was almost more excited to be surfing this tiny shore break in a country where I never knew waves existed.

“My first wave I was able to race far down the beach, straight past the woman in their black hijabs with the Malaysian flag flying high in the background. It was such a surreal feeling as the woman watched on although they had never seen a girl surfing before, and they probably hadn’t”

I surfed for half an hour before a parasailing boat turned up ready for a busy day entertaining tourists. The boat launched right next to where I was surfing and I had to be careful not to be caught up in the ropes. I shorebreak watched as they completed a full lap of the bay, perhaps about 5km long before returning to the same spot and picking up the next tourist.

As the boat launched it created a lot of wake and if I timed it with a set it added another half of a foot to the wave.

The young Malay guys that were the guides started to notice what I was up to and would laugh each time they launched out and high above my head into the sky.

One guy in particular would give me a shaka on each lap and yell out “yeaaah surfer girl!” with a huge grin. A couple of hours into the session mum started pacing up and down the beach and signalling for me to come in. Like a cheeky young grommet I held my finger up to tell her ‘one more wave!’.

Of course I could have spent all day out there but I may have had to take mum to hospital with third-degree burns from sitting in the hot Malaysian sun.

Wild Island Escape

by surfchickareta, posted in adventure, exploration, girls surfing, Indonesia, nature, surfing

They had been tracking the swell off the coast of Africa for two weeks. A slow moving, season defining system making its way across the Indian Ocean- our little island’s home wide open to accept its almighty power. Waking blurry eyed after a restless night sleep, the light was yet to show on the horizon to bring another day. Making my way to the hut barefooted, I gasp as I stub my toe heavily on a large chunk of coral. Limping off in pain I gaze across the green grass, the light from the porch revealing several hundred more chunks of coral far up the bank. I’ve not known the water to ever come up this high before. This wasn’t a good sign.

I pour myself a strong cup of coffee and sit quietly, hearing the roar of the ocean towards the darkened sea, the lull between sets softened by the usually loud sounds from the jungle behind me. “It’s not a good day to go”, the voice of the surf camp owner breaks across the room with concern. I respond “I can’t stay, I’m not putting my life in his hands, I just don’t feel safe here with him”.

I’m alone on a remote island densely covered in jungle. All outside guests of the surf camp had left two days prior, leaving just myself and two owners of paradise bikinis
the camp, one of which is my now estranged boyfriend. In a heartbeat he had dictated my own love for him as non-existent. His delusion and insecurity just wouldn’t cut through the truth of how strong my feelings were for him. I’ve seen too much of his aggression to negotiate any possible terms to stay. My time in this tropical paradise has felt like a dream but so quick it can turn into a living nightmare overnight.

My journey ahead (as I find out) requires navigating one of the biggest swells in years in a dugout canoe with outboard for close to three hours, before anxiously waiting twelve hours in a small fishing village for a public boat. This unforeseen wait only adds more time to my already twelve hour overnight boat ride, sleeping top to tail with hundreds of locals. From the mainland I wait six hours for a connecting flight, travel by car for two hours to the small airport where an hour by plane lands me in an international airport. From here I can catch a three hour flight to Bali where I plan to touch down at around 3am- two days from now. The fact I face this journey solo rules out any chance for emotions to break through as they are quickly overruled by hits of adrenaline.

Standing on the shore with a group of local Indonesian workers, my surfboards are firmly strapped in the wooden canoe and wrapped under a large torn tarp. I bear a flimsy poncho, well and truly not up for the task ahead. We wait for the sets to pass before we can escape out to sea, via the narrow reef passage before us. My eyes nervously scan over the dark eyes of the workers who wait in silence, looking equally as fearful as each other. It’s hard to gauge the size of the waves in the stormy conditions but it’s easily fifteen to twenty feet and building rapidly. The entire front section of the camp is flooded out, with coral strewn across every square inch of land. The darkened skies above threaten downpours. Further up the beach my old bamboo hut is starting to give way, as the tide gushes ferociously under its floor and over the embankment, filling the lagoon that lays behind it. With every set the water races up the beach smashing broken coral against my ankles and I’m constantly rushing behind a palm tree for protection. I push the thoughts out of my head that this was the very location the Boxing Day Tsunami tore through only years before.

Twenty minutes pass and there’s still no safe break between the relentless sets. We continue to patiently wait before I hear the voice of the camp owner “Ok go, go, go, go, ocean stormShannon get in, satu, dua, tiga, puush, satu dua, tiga puush”. I scamper into the boat, heart racing out of my chest and adrenaline filling every vein in my body. The group of workers use all of their strength to push the boat off the coral sand. Whitewash races over the edge of the boat instantly soaking everything within. The engine splutters as it attempts to start and we slowly begin to head out towards the rough sea. I glance back towards land with a heavy heart, as I see no sign of the man I thought I was in love with. I pull my hat down over my red ravaged eyes, not wanting to look at the site ahead. Each time we reach the peak of the ocean swell, I cling to the edges of the boat as we drop violently onto the flat water with a loud thud, almost shaking me out into the rough waters. Every few seconds it feels as though someone is holding a large bucket of water and releasing it onto the boat. My intense love for the ocean fades in this moment as fear washes over my body.

I’m relieved as we miraculously make it around the back of the lineup. I glance up and am speechless at the sight of open ocean swell. Scenes from the movie “The Perfect Storm” flash in front of me, I feel the boat climb a very steep section of swell for what feels like eternity in this moment, I continue to hide under my hat. “Uh oh”, I hear from the Indo guy, as he switches the engine off. I shut my eyes tightly and crawl below the broken piece of wood I’m sitting on and brace my knees. We decline down the opposite side of the swell and violently hit the flat surface, as gallons of water are thrown onto us once again. The entire boat gives way to the right side, forcing the edge to catch and sink beneath the surface where we come close to capsizing. The price we pay to ride waves of perfection.

A Shark’s Territory

by surfchickareta, posted in adventure, nature, sharks, surfing

It was one of those waves that just had a sharky feeling about it. A close friend of mine had let me in on his discovery of a section of the coast that was a swell magnet. He had never seen any other surfer even come down to check the surf, just a bunch of old fisherman trying their luck for “catch of the day”. I must say I was pretty excited when he invited me to come surf it, considering the level of crowds that surfing attracts these days, it seemed like a miracle that there was still a break that remained unridden.

My first experience of the wave

We weaved through cane fields, passing country cottages and Paul joked about finding a girl and settling down in one of the shacks. “What on earth would you do here, you’d go mad with boredom? Wait, I can just picture you chewing on sugar cane and playing the banjo on the porch, swinging on your rocking chair, that house right there!”. I burst out laughing as I pointed to one of the run down houses which coincidently had an old farmer sitting out front on his rocking chair, eyeing off our van as it passed by, surfboards strapped to the roof. “Haha, how did you do that? I just had a flash of the future”, Paul giggled with a look that said he might actually consider the move.

We jumped out of the van and I raced Paul down the sandy track, excited at what all the hype was about. When we left our popular beachside town the swell was a fickle 2ft and the wind had already started to get into it. That didn’t stop fifty surfers from battling each other over the sloppy waves. The swell this day was mostly coming from the south and the charts didn’t even show over 3ft for the whole East Coast, so how did this mysterious break show 4-5ft on the sets?! Both of our eyes nearly fell out of our heads, as we reached the end of the track. We exchanged a glance that didn’t require words. Now Paul was racing me back up the track, as we ran off laughing, I had to push him out of the way to get to the car the quickest. “I knew you had found something here! How could you keep it a secret for such a long time?!” I excitedly screeched as he opened the sliding door to grab the boards. “Well, you know, I had so many surfs here solo I thought I had better share the gems around, but you better not tell anyone else!”. I promised that we would only let our most trusting friends in on the location.

Sitting out the back of the lineup was a pretty surreal feeling. I scanned the ocean as far as I could see north and south. Not one other surfer in the water. The beach was almost as deprived of life, aside from one lonely fisherman and his dog just within sight. There was one feeling I didn’t like about all this, and that was the dark, murky waters that our legs were currently dangling into. The benefits of being a modern day surfer has to be the ability to get a clear aerial view of the breaks online. I knew there was a river running out not too far from where we were. Ultimate shark territory. “I know what you’re thinking, I can read you like a book”. Paul distracted my thoughts. “C’mon when your numbers up, your numbers up. I’ve surfed this spot countless times on my own and I’ve been fine”. He confidently said as his eyes swung to the horizon at a set approaching. We both paddled to get position as the ocean was stacked with a train of waves. I watched Paul take off on the peak and drop vertically down the face, before vanishing out of sight behind a curtain of water. The wave behind broke in the exact spot and I swung my board around with ease and paddled into an equally steep take off, before curving into a bottom turn and racing the lip down the line with Paul hooting in front of me.

Our session lasted a good four hours until we just couldn’t paddle anymore through exhausted arms. The waves we so consistent and I was still baffled that no other surfers had walked down that same sandy track we had hours before.

yamba surfing

A re-visit to the wave

The season of spring had passed since my first surf at this spot. Every other surf that Paul reported on from this break was the same. Overcast sky, murky waters but pumping waves and no crowds. He had just taken off on a trip to Paris and I recall the feeling of “asking for permission” to surf it in his absence. This time another friend of ours and a guy he knew were coming along also. I wasn’t quite as brave as Paul to surf here solo. Of course we had all complied with strict secrecy not to tell anyone about the break! Today was a bit strange as the sky was entirely blue and as we pulled up to the carpark we spotted a 4×4 with surf stickers on the back. “Alright which one of you kooks have been talking?” Michael questioned with dramatised aggression. “Shutup, as if we would want anyone else surfing here, it’s probably a summer spot for the guys that are too pussy to surf in winter”, I responded. Whatever the reason, I’m sure these guys just stumbled upon the break by accident.

We didn’t bother to check the waves but instead took our boards straight down. We had already been driving long enough and were keen to get in the water.  When we got down to the beach we saw not one, but four surfers in a pack together in the water. The water looked crystal clear which took me by surprise. “I thought Paul said no one even touched this wave?” Michael asked. “Yeah well I’ve got some stories to tell him after this surf!”, I responded. Not too phased about the small group of surfers, we headed up the beach which was laid with a few sun-bakers and dogs chasing one another. This certainly wasn’t how I remembered this beach in late winter.

We found a peak and had a pretty big paddle out through a deep gutter and out onto the shallow sandbank that attracted the swell. There was not a breath of wind and looked to be about 2-3ft on the sets. We had each caught a couple of waves before there was a long lull between sets. We straddled our boards all sitting a few metres apart from one another, talking about what we’d been up to the past few months.

I was facing Michael, casually chatting about how many good days of surf there were in spring at my local break, when I noticed an unmistakable shadow lurk directly behind him. “Shit, behind you”, I yelled out. He turned around and in a split second replied, “Go, everyone, paddle in”. I had been in the water with many sharks before, but every one of them had cruised by on their way to find more bite-sized fish. This was a very different situation. For starters the sheer size had to make it a white pointer, its length measuring longer than a small car, but its girth absolutely terrifying. I knew this one wasn’t just passing through and had been sitting there sizing us off for a bite.

I tried to make light-hearted jokes as the three of us frantically paddled, with not much more than our fingertips, across the deep gutter of water. The setup of the sand banks, meant we couldn’t even catch the whitewater in from the breaking waves, as the water was far too deep to attract swell. Buzzing with adrenaline we finally made it across the water and into the shore break where we could ride whitewash in on our boards. We were all so incredibly relieved to touch the sand and we stood with legs that felt like they were made of jelly. “Holy shit that was so close, that thing was right behind me!”, Michael yelled out through lack of breath. “That had to be seconds away from an attack, I don’t know what would’ve happened had I not seen it”, I responded.

We rushed down the beach to signal the other group of surfers in the water what was out there. Another guy came up to us on the beach and had seen the whole thing. That’s when Michael explained that it was probably a lot bigger than what we thought. “You know those fishing shows, when they go to reel a giant fish in off the back of the boat? It looks tiny from above but then they reel it in and it’s a monster. I don’t reckon it was 10ft I think it was more 15!”. 

Surfing under that blue sky and surrounded in crystal clear water, I wondered how many days in murky surf that these giants were lurking around. By the time we drove home that morning, I think the shark had grown another few feet, the more we contemplated the degree of magnification in the water. When I got to a computer I instantly messaged Paul to let him know what went down. His first response was shock and relief that we all made it out alive, but then joked, “that’s what you get surfing MY wave when I’m not there!”. 

An Ocean Blackened with Dolphins

by surfchickareta, posted in girls surfing, nature, surfing

While I can’t recall the exact reason I was feeling so down this day, it was most likely another heartache story from an ex-boyfriend. All I know is I absolutely craved the touch of ocean on my skin and to once again experience the surreal feeling of riding those magnificent waves. I eagerly ran down the secluded sandy track through the lush forest to check the conditions. I gazed out across the glassy ocean surface and spotted a fun looking 2-3ft shore break. Jumping for joy I bolted back down the track to the car. In no time at all I was running into the warm waters, surfboard under arm, taking in a deep breath of the fresh, salty air. As soon as I was in waist deep, I released my board into the waters and dived to the sandy bottom, resembling mermaid qualities as I once again felt at home under the sea.

A small crowd of surfers were already on the best peak but I really needed solo time in the ocean and didn’t feel like competing for waves. I distanced myself far down the beach and straddled my board as I watched the glowing ball of sun rise above the ocean. A sight I will never once grow tired of. Gazing back to the surface of the water, I spot a set coming my way. Quickly paddling to my right, I position myself towards the peak of the wave and turn my board towards shore for takeoff.

A perfect steep drop, gravity forces my arms behind me as I free fall with the lip and just make it into my first bottom turn. I cast my eyes to the top of the lip, feathering high in the golden sunlight and gouge my fins to break the lip apart, sending sprays of salty water into the skies above. Addicted to speed I race towards the end section of the wave and once again gouge my fins into the face of the wave, digging my arm into the wall, while I lay back and complete the turn, before flicking off the back of the wave, leaping into the depths of the ocean once again. I feel intoxicated with joy and buzzing with adrenaline.

Paddling back out for more, I laugh out loud to myself at the thought of the hungry crowd, a mere 100 metres away, fighting over waves amongst themselves. As I make it out the back of the breaking waves, I once again straddle my board waiting for the next gem to come to me. I look over to the crowd with a big grin, but notice a commotion in the water. Another girl had just taken off on a wave and was almost knocked off her board, as a large dolphin leaped out of the wave right in front of her.

The other surfers were lifting their heads high to get a better view of the rest of the pod of dolphins which had surrounded them. I jumped as I felt the water beneath me move and looked down to see two dolphins, each hovering, completely still, either side of me. I lifted my feet up and let out a loud squeal, unsure of what they were doing.

I’ve spent a lot of time in and around dolphins in my surfing life but never had experienced this kind of behaviour. I felt my breath grow heavy and my body freeze up unsure of my next move. As I closely watched them I became aware that they were here for a reason. They chose to hover close to me, out of every other surfer in the water that morning. Suddenly I realised they most likely picked up on my energy. They were aware that I had been having a rough time and they were here to remind me of the true beauty of life amidst the chaos. Just as the thought passed through my mind each dolphin darted off in different directions.

I decided to surrender to joining the safety of the crowd as I realised there was quite a bit of marine action in the water. As I paddled closer, I noticed a large pod of dolphins were still interacting with the surfers. In fact as I approached, the entire water was blackened with bodies of dolphins great and small.

The huge mumma dolphins appeared to be creating a circle to keep their babies safe in the middle, a trait I had previously learnt about. There had to be at least fifty dolphins present. For some reason the mumma dolphins were highly interactive when they had their offspring and always came up closer to surfers at the time they were nursing their young. I would love to know the reason behind this, perhaps it was to teach them a lesson about humans.

It was such a moving experience to be in the ocean on this day. There was not one surfer out who didn’t have a huge grin on their face and didn’t jump at the sensation of a dolphin brushing up against the side of their dangling legs. The bigger dolphins seemed to have come up with a game, where they would grab the babies in their beaks and throw them into the air.

Many times I would turn around to see a little dolphin spinning through the air.  It was one of those moments I really felt I should have got out of the water, not knowing if any sharks were joining the party or not, but I knew this was a once in a lifetime experience and I didn’t want to miss a minute of it. I’ve never come face to face with baby dolphins like I had on this day, many of them curiously poking their noses out of the water and looking around with their beady eyes to see what us humans were all about. We were all reminded how incredibly lucky we are to be surfers, playing in the heart of mother nature.

surfing with dolphins