Leaving Indonesia earlier than expected allows me some unexpected time enjoying more of the company of Kathleen, Chris, Adam and Rossana upon my return to Australia. I have come to realise the value of good friends on this trip and how precious time spent in their company is.
I am looking forward to seeing so many people again upon my return home. However sadly I have also discovered that I will not get the chance to catch up with another old friend any more…
My time is up in Java, so after packing up and saying my goodbyes I am back on board the G-Land Express. Everyone on board takes one last look at Money Trees on the way past, which was still cranking and the guys in the water were charging the break.
I haven’t been at all impressed with what I have seen of Bali and have decided to get back to Australia to spend more time with my friends there. I have spent so much time on my own during this trip, so it will be good to charge up my batteries whilst relaxing with people I know
I may be back in Indonesia later in my trip when Sumatra and the islands off the west coast will be close to my intended route home.
However I am unsure if I will travel across if the waves are going to be as busy as I have seen along the southern shores of the country. Whilst the quality of the breaks is undoubted there are so many people in the water and a distinct lack of surfing etiquette is all too often apparent.
Not much to report about the journey back other than due to my change of plans I had a ten hour wait in the airport before I could check into my flight. As usual I got ripped off for my surfboard going on a plane. I was flying Virgin Australia who only provide in flight entertainment for the six hour flight to those who have their Android or I-phone application. That there is no means of charging your device through the flight and that no warning that accessing the apps is necessary seems to have escaped them. Typical performance for an airline on my trip.
The only other thing to report was that once back in New South Wales I saw a huge python in the road which we ushered back into the bush with a stick to stop it getting run over. They like to warm themselves on the hot tarmac apparently.
Whilst at Heaven on the Planet I am staggered to hear via email that my jacket, which you see demonstrating its wonderful waterproof capabilities at Iguazu Falls, has resurfaced back in New Zealand. I have annoyingly bought a replacement already so it is now on its own way back to the UK.
You can catch up on its own exploits at www.aroundtheworldineightypostoffices.com
The tale involving some duct tape and the franking machine is outrageous!
It is time to move on again so I have packed my bags once more.
There were certainly loads more waves I could have chased in this part of the world, however I can’t say I will be too upset to be moving on from the feeding ground of Great White Sharks.
At least for a short while!
There are loads of other things I haven’t had the time to do either.
I am a bit disappointed not to have been able to visit the geographic feature known as Wave Rock whilst here, but I guess that will have to wait for another time.
Time to head off to the airport once more.
I decide to try and squeeze one more break in before returning to Perth and drive another 50 kilometres south to the Margaret River area. It is another of the world’s great great wine growing areas and there are vineyards everywhere but all this is once more wasted on myself.
However I guess I can be very pretentious at dinner parties upon returning home, waxing lyrical on the geography of all the regions I have seen on this trip.
As usual I am more interested in the surf opportunities and head straight for the mouth of the river, and the break there known as Surfers Point which is legendary in surfing circles.
I am gutted to discover that the road is closed upon arrival so they can beautify the car park and its approach, so there is no chance of me even seeing the break.
I drive on to the next beach called Gnarabup, but as I feared the swell has all but died and what little there is left is being ruined by the westerly winds which have picked up again.
Whilst there I have a chat with a local lady called Mim, who tells me more about some of the local Great White population. A short while back the beach you see here was full of tourists swimming and kids playing in the shallows. That was until somebody gave a warning that a shark was in the water causing an understandably rapid exit for everybody!
The 5 metre long shark which would have a mouth the size of a kitchen table then swam along the length of the bay, rolling onto its side so it could have a good look at everybody on the shore as it went. Not satisfied with that it then swam back the other way doing exactly the same thing.
If they had tongues you could imagine the thing licking its lips!
Given I don’t want this to be the last thing I ever see, I am all of a sudden not at all unhappy about being unable to get any more waves in this part of the world!
From there I drive into the town of Margaret River, which is the home of Gath who manufacture helmets which you can wear whilst surfing.
I have a bit of a grail quest finding their operation which is on a business park right on the edge of town. It is where all the helmets shipped worldwide are manufactured and as a consequence I decide it will be the best place to buy one.
In more ways than one I have a big head, and have been unable to find one anywhere on my travels that is large enough for me. Even in their workshop there is only one in stock that fits comfortably so I snap it up.
Thus far I have several bouncings off boulders on my travels and that my face and teeth are largely the same as when I left the UK is arguably more by luck than judgement. I am flying to Indonesia the following day and think that making some effort to protect myself whilst surfing all the reef breaks there will be a sound investment.
It is a worrying sign however, because with tangible levels of self preservation and common sense creeping into my psyche I must be getting old!
Yallingup Reef is a serious wave and the home break of Taj Burrow who is a regular contender on the world tour. The wave breaks from the left of this shot over the edge of the rock reef which runs all the way out from the shore under the flat water you can see on the right.
You wade and paddle across that until the edge of the reef and then try to time launching yourself into the white water in a spell when not many waves are coming through. On that score I didn’t do so well and had a real battle paddling out into the waves which were well over head high. Each one hitting you sends you back a bit towards the rocks behind you so there is no choice but to dig deep and paddle like a man possessed until you get clear of the white water and are able to catch your breath out back.
The consensus opinion when catching the waves is to then surf rightwards back towards the edge of the shelf because it will be less of a paddle back out after your ride, as opposed to battling through about thirty waves having gone left.
However once clear of the white water there are all kinds of shadows beneath you due to the rocks, and because there is so much swell you can’t tell if anything is moving or not. Knowing what is in the water here I have to say I didn’t enjoy myself a great deal and I think this photo says more about that than I can.
To make matters worse all the wax on my board started flaking off making it very slippy and I then got stung by something all the way up both my forearms.
I did catch a few rides though, but not knowing the break more than once found myself having to violently swerve around rocks breaking the surface just in front of me.
Not really my cup of tea this sort of thing so I got out before too long managing to muddle my way back up on to the reef having ridden a wave to the edge of it and bailing off at the last minute to stop my board hitting the rocks.
I dried off and got changed before going back to watch some of the locals who were really charging.
This fantastic statue has been erected next to the car park to celebrate the surf pioneers from Perth who first came down this way decades ago searching for more challenging waves.
I had another chat about the angry fish with somebody whilst there who sincerely believed that my life was under more threat from the local kangaroos population jumping out in front of my car.
I can’t say I am convinced by this argument.
Having driven three hours south of Perth I am loathe to just drive all the way back there after my session at Smiths Beach, so I try to see if there is anywhere local that I can stay cheaply which would allow a few more sessions in the area before returning.
Almost everything is way beyond what I wanted to spend especially because I have already paid for a bed at the Billabong Backpacker Resort back in the city, and it means I will be doubling up which is extravagant even by this trip’s standard.
Finally I decide that there is no choice but investigate sleeping in caves.
Before you think I have regressed further towards my Neanderthal genes I should explain that Caves House is about as far removed from a drafty hole in the rocks as you might imagine, and the service there is rather better than that too.
It is a magnificent building in Yallingup set in manicured grounds at the top of the hill above the famous break in the town.
I arrive late in the day and manage to haggle the room rate down to something I can live with, and after discovering I would have a proper double bed to myself (with an electric blanket), my own TV and a wholesome breakfast in the morning I shake hands on the deal and settle in for the night.
I spend most of the evening in the Long Bar enjoying a Sunday Roast, followed by cheese and biscuits with a couple of pints of James Squire’s One Fifty Lashes, which I have been enjoying all over Oz.
There is surf memorabilia all over the bar and I have a good chat with the barman James who surfs the local breaks. The conversation inevitably turns to the angry fish in the neighbourhood and comments like, “we’ve had a bad run recently” and “some of the local ones can be as big as 6 metres in length” don’t do much to ensure a good nights sleep!
I wake up early though and walk through the grounds which have a number of these beautiful Flame trees along the path down to the beach.
It has dropped a bit since the day before but is still massive so after ambling back I decide to enjoy a hearty breakfast before checking out and driving down to the break.
I drove three hours south of Perth and after checking out a couple of breaks opted to get in the water at Smiths Beach where there are a good number of others are already in the water.
Whilst being no guarantee of not being attacked being part of a crowd obviously improves your chances of not being the chosen meal! You would have to be staggeringly unlucky to get attacked but this article should give you some idea about why I am concerned so much in this part of the world.
All the people in the water are really friendly and the sea is so clear you could see all the way to the sandy bottom, which settles me down because you would at least see anything coming you way.
This is a great picture of me having second thoughts about taking the drop on one of the head high waves because it it about to thump down right across the bay.
I did manage to make a few drops though and even a handful of turns on one wave before the broken section would catch up with me.
It is hard to tell whether I am surfing the wave or it was surfing me in this shot, but I managed to stay upright a while longer. It was quite a heavy wave breaking over the sand here and more than once I surfaced after wiping out wondering if my board would be in two pieces.
It was late in the afternoon when I arrived and there really wasn’t much daylight left by the time I caught this ride in at the end of my session.
The number of surfers in the water was thinning out and I didn’t want to be the only thing on the menu!
Ten years ago myself and some other surfers from London raised loads of money for MIND, the mental health charity, by swimming across the English Channel from the UK to France. It was done as a relay with each swimmer getting in and swimming as hard as they could in rotation.
We all did a stint in the dark or half light, in the middle of the shipping lanes and as we approached the French coast until the distance was covered taking 12 hours to get there. Wes, who you see here about to do a dance to Queens of The Stone Age that was immediately followed by a comedy fall off the back of the boat, has since returned back to his native Australia and I arranged to meet up with him for a surf whilst I am in the area.
He lives on the coast near Freemantle which is only half an hour from where I am staying so we arrange to meet up at first light because the wind was predicted to drop for a few hours.
Checking out a few breaks we were both particular pleased about our early start because whilst at Cottesloe Beach a particularly attractive young woman ran past us laughing and throwing her clothes off before running naked into the water. This meant we got to see a full moon as well as enjoying this sunrise at the same time.
Rottnest Island located just off the coast here gets in the way of most of the swell, so even though there should be good waves on offer here it was all a bit disappointing apart from the streaker. However it seems the whole of Western Australia is aware that the wind has dropped and it is packed in the water anyway at the break called Isolators where we decide to paddle out.
This takes us through a huge patch of seaweed which I get completely tangled up in, and knowing how I feel about what else is in the water you can imagine how it brushing up my legs does to my nervous system.
Wes and I find a little peak to enjoy surfing over the rock reef off the side of the main crowd, but in all honesty spend most of our time in the water catching up rather than bagging loads of waves.
Wes, who I discover has entered the dirty business of politics since I last saw him, is giving you a wave from behind me in this shot.
We do catch a few little rides though of which this was the best picture.
After a fun session with an old friend, we decide to go into Freemantle for breakfast and continue our catch up. Whilst there Wes convinces me that I must drive south to where the waves aren’t sheltered by the Island.
The last time I surfed the waves off Scarborough Beach it was in Yorkshire back in the UK. I was surfing in the North Sea on a swell generated in the Arctic, and there was half a foot of snow on the ground!
Apart from being a tad chilly there were clean lines of waves and I had a great session. However having surfed for over an hour in water which was about 3C, with snow being blown horizontally across the bay throughout, taking my leg out of my wetsuit after the session to put my bare foot down into a snow drift brought a whole new definition to the word cold!
This Scarborough however is on the Indian Ocean coast on the west of Australia and a short drive from Perth where I am staying, so I suspected it would be a great deal warmer.
Everybosy else is in full wetsuits but I have limited my travel bags for the next few weeks so only have my shorty wetsuit, which was fine because it is still warmer here than it ever gets in the UK. The wind is everything when you are in the water though and it was howling onshore, and because the sea bed drops away quite sharply it meant the waves here were largely just dumping on the shore.
I knew it wasn’t going to be a great session but paddled out in front of this fantastic amphitheatre they have built on the shore because I wanted to bag a different ocean on my travels and settle my nerves about being in the water in an area known for its angry fish.
My board was a nightmare to get past the breakers because it is so bouyant and I got hammered on the way out. I did this a few times after each of the take offs, which were immediately followed by getting oblitorated by the dumping waves that I had caught but didn’t stay in long.
