Bali

The Kuta Trap.

The idea was to hit Bali in the off-season/wet season, get lucky and score some uncrowded perfection. There are endless opportunities for surfers arriving in Bali. Java, Nusa Lembongan, Lombok, and Sumbawa are all only a boat ride away. However, we wanted to do the trip on a budget, so we settled in Bali. We had planned to surf all day, do a bit of training and eat healthy. Sounds easy!

Off-season Bali is a bit hit and miss. We had booked our flights in advance so the luxury of watching the chart was out of the question.

We based ourselves at Padang Padang, one of the best and most dangerous waves in Bali. Padang Padang is a 40 minute journey South west of Kuta and sits between a host of grinding left hand reefs including Uluwatu. It’s a good place to be based with the whole of the Bukit peninsula within a short drive and quick access to the east or west coasts if conditions change. Its also very quiet as this area predominantly breaks in their winter.

We were surfing Uluwatu most mornings and taking daily trips up the coast to Nusa Dua and Karamus. The surf was small and the forecast didn’t seem to be that good with 1 or 2 days at the end of the week showing a bit more promise. During that first week we checked spot after spot, surfed a few times a day, but had nothing great. We were all waiting for the small pulse that was forecast.

I was up early the morning the swell was meant to arrive, it was dark and raining, and couldn’t help but think that the trip had been doomed from the start.

I got the boys together and we headed for Nusa Dua. We found a hollow fast right a quick drive from the main break. It looked good and the boys were amping to get out there.

All the boys were having good waves. Colm and Rowan were getting some sick pigdogs and Matt seemed to be in his element in the draining little waves. We surfed this for about 2 hours until the tide got too low and it became unbearably shallow. All the boys were in high hopes after finally getting waves, Matt was relieved we had got a few shots as he had to go home to Oz the next morning.

The swell peaked that afternoon and we were expected better things for the next day.

Colm and I met up with Josh and Marky, we checked the right hander but it seemed like a different swell direction so we tried a spot a little further up the coast. It looked good and there was no one out. The boys were loving it. They were getting shacked and spirits were high. None of us were sure of the name of this wave, but we could all see that with a solid swell it had the potential to be world class.

Although Bali is a destination where you’d expect to get perfect waves, its not as easy as you’d imagine, especially in the off season. You normally have to put some serious hours in on the roads,  there are strong winds generally from the west to contend with and the surf can be small for weeks. Then of course there’s the constant lure of Kuta.

That night after checking the chart the boys decided we should have a few beers. We planned to spend only one night in Kuta and then head up to north of the island and get a few more waves before heading home.

Having spent a week in the sleepy village of Padang, Kuta comes as a massive wake up call.

The place is a bustling maze of narrow winding streets filled with restaurants, stalls, hotels, pubs, and clubs. It’s a sensory overload. The smell is indescribable, it’s a mixture of incense, tobacco, petrol and burning rubbish.

You’re instantly bombarded with offers for transport, cheap drinks, massage, clothes, etc. 

The Balinese people follow their own unique form of Hinduism and are great believers of karma, which for tourism has massive benefits. Although they are the most sincere friendly people, they seem to have very little concern for their own lives, probably because they believe that if they die their next life will be even better. You see five people, normally a whole family balanced onto one moped hammering up the road overtaking on blind corners. It’s mad!

It’s exceptionally safe (apart from the roads) and crime is extremely low. You can leave your valuables with the locals while you surf and they wouldn’t dream of stealing due to an inbuilt fear of being punished in this and the next life.

To hire a car or motorbike you don’t even need a deposit, the Balinese just seem to trust you. I got a car for a couple of days and ended up keeping it for 2 weeks with no problems or questions asked, I just left my name and paid when I returned it!

With all the locals enticing you into their shops, it can get pretty hectic and so you’ve got to be on guard at all times. I let down my defence for a second and was whisked into a shop where I was set upon by 5 women giving me a manicure and pedicure and pretty much determined to fulfil any need that I desired. Short of telling them to fuck off, there was no getting out, they are seriously good at what they do! Eventually I had to sidestep 2 and make a break for the door.

You can get anything in Kuta. If they don’t have it, they’ll get it. They’ll hop on a scooter and disappear, then reappear with the requested item.

Whilst waiting for my clothes to be washed in a laundrette, I was politely offered a magic mushroom milkshake. I kindly declined, but many don’t. You see people losing their minds sitting in the streets in the middle of the day talking to dogs or hiding in the trees looking for monkeys.

The day turned into night and then the fun begins.

The average night in Kuta goes as follows: a few cheap beers on the steps at the local shop, then onto wherever is giving away free cocktails, followed by a club - usually the Bounty. It’s usually custom to take part in a few hours of karaoke, drinking the fishbowls of arak, and then sweating it out on the dance floor on the top floor.

You see some mental sights in Kuta, there was one 13 year old  kid dressed like a rapper, covered in tattoos, playing pool. One tat stated “My Brother’s Keeper” and he claimed he was a Bra Boy, I wonder what Kobi would make of that? I asked to take his picture, and he snapped back in the worst black American accent I’ve ever heard, “how much you going to pay me man, I ain’t no joke”. I offered him a beer and he spouted “I’m 13, I don’t drink!” then walked off, all this while chain smoking cheap cigarettes. You can party in Kuta for days on end, lose all concept of time, and forget about why you came to Bali in the first place.

Booze, drugs, women, everything is ridiculously cheap and accessible, money can buy you anything. It’s like a drug habit, unless you’re strong willed your not going to say no,

the thought of two foot dribble isn’t going to be enough to get you out, its too much fun.

Clubs with pools, bungee jumps, foam parties, seedy bars filled with pissed idiots, its non stop. Before you know it its 6am you’ve been there a week and you’re leaving tomorrow. It’s like a vortex.

 A few days in the Kuta madness leaves you feeling hazed and mentally detached from reality. The only way to cope is to get back amongst it or get out, hide, and pretend you don’t know the place exists.

Although much has changed in Bali since Bob Koke, Kim Bradley and Jerry Lopez discovered Bali's secrets in the 60’s, you can still find some of more remote spots that will give you an idea of what those first western surfers experienced. Just watch out for the Kuta trap!

Ireland

After the final stop of the Quik 3 Degees tour,  Nate and I stayed on in Ireland as the surf was pumping. Micah, Mat, Struen and Wilks were also with us and we met up with Oli, Josh and Gabe. We scored some amazing surf around the Bundoran area. The article below was run in Pitpilot and no credit was given. Tidy!

O and I also had my first cover.

Home’s sick!

We’ve been driving for two hours, it’s cold, dark, and there’s a gloomy mist sitting on the hills and fields. It looks like rain, and there’s no chance of sun!

Two weeks on the run with the weather chasing us, every precipitation you can think of on our tails, snow, rain and winds that could roll the car. We’ve had dodgy surf reports and scored no real waves.

Strangest thing is, I’m still smiling.

This is Ireland and I fecking love it!

When I first came to Ireland, I knew it was a special place. For me, everything about the place fits into how surfing should be. It’s old school surfing. Van, wet wetsuits, tents, camping stoves and your mates.

The whole country is beautiful. The sea is clean and full of life. The people are friendly. It’s not that expensive. There’s world class waves everywhere, and it’s relatively quiet.

The only draw-back is, when it’s flat or conditions don’t play ball, you can be driving for days. Then you’re going to end up in the pub drinking Guinness and singing all night. So OK, driving is the only draw back!

 We stayed on in Ireland after the Portrush BPSA event because the chart looked classic. The crew were, Micah Lester, Matt Capel, Nathan Phillips, Struan Wilkins and Bennett Atkinson.

We headed for the Easkey area. We’d all been there before, and knew some of the local spots that may have been working. We met up with Oli Adams and Josh Hughes who had the same idea as us, and were hanging around waiting for swell.

 From day one, we had good waves. Like a bunch of super charged groms, we’d get to the beach whilst it was still dark and spend the day surfing and hanging about on the rocks. We had it to ourselves most of the time, except for a pod of dolphins that joined us one evening. It wasn’t pumping, but it was still 3 ft super fun waves.

We would make fires to keep warm between surfs, cook noodles and watch each other surfing.

We ate at the service stations every day. What a surprise! It’s not like the service stations at home though - they have freshly prepared food. Hot food, cold meats, chicken curries, pasta dishes, fajitas, every sandwich filling, and a selection of fresh fruit. You can give them a loaf of bread, tell them what to put in it, and they’ll make you sandwiches, all for the cost of the bread and the filling. Imagine asking someone back home to do that, “fuck off, I’m busy” would be the answer. Every store is like this, amazing!

This routine went on for about five days it was like ground-hog day.

 Although it was stupendous, the boys wanted bigger, heavier waves, and I needed to get photos.

Our time was running out, we had loads of turn shots, a few airs, loads of lifestyle, but still not enough to get an article. Then our luck changed. I realised we’d forgotten our passports! We came into Northern Ireland from Scotland, but we were going home from Eire into Wales. You need your passport to get out of Eire and into Wales, I think, so I decided you did. So as gutted as I was, we had to extend the trip another 3 days in order for our passports to be delivered.

 We were staying at Cain Kilcullen’s house in Enniscrone.

Cain and his girlfriend, Debbie, have a 9 month old baby. With Matt and Micah crashing there, space was tight. Cain’s mum Christine, lives across the street, and insisted that Nate and I stay there. Christine was so kind, she made a full three course dinner every night. We’d be in bed by 9pm full as a bull, ready for the early.

 The Kilcullen’s own a ‘Bath House’ which is situated right on the point in Enniscrone, it’s the perfect way to relax after a surf. The water they use for the Bath House is pumped straight from the ocean across the road. I recommend that everyone should try this. To start, you have a steam bath. You sit in your own Cedar wood cabinet where you’re completely enclosed, except for your head poking out the top. You’re then steamed with pure moist vapour, it feels unreal! Straight after, you get into a warm salt water bath filled with seaweed. The oils from the seaweed have homeopathic properties that leave you feeling revitalized, they also provide relief from rheumatism and arthritis.

To finish your treatment you have a shower in cold sea water. It’s a great way to relax, and the best hangover cure I’ve ever found.

 The plan for the last few days was to hang at Cain’s, check charts and shoot off at the crack of dawn. Ireland’s north-west coast is riddled with numerous nooks and crannies with lots of potential when the wind and swell are right. 

Cain’s the bloke to know if you’re on the north-west coast. He’s got every spot wired, and knows all the correct swell directions. Essential knowledge, that would otherwise see you spending the day driving rather than scoring the one spot that’s working.

 We’d been putting in the hard yards for a week and still no reward, each dawnie was greeted with the same dark grey sky which was usually accompined with rain. We’d drive a few hours arrive at the beach and find, once again, that the swell hadn’t arrived.

All the reports were saying the swell, wind, wave period and sunlight were good. So why wasn’t it happening?

Nate’s not the most patient bloke, and I could see he was starting to crack. Struan and Benson’s time was up, they had to leave a day before us. They’d milked the trip, and had to get back to work.

Anyone who’s been to Ireland will tell you the same thing. It’s amazing!

What everyone seems to leave out is how fickle it is, and how much time you have to spend driving around checking spots! You have to put serious hours in on the road. If you don’t like driving, you won’t like Ireland!

 We were down to our last day. The passports had arrived, the ferry was booked. We had one last roll of the dice!

 We were in the van by 5.30 on the last morning, it was cold and raining. The drive takes a while, but as it started to get light I could see a mist sitting on everything. It was grey, thick with cloud, and I’d written off the article at this point.

However, as we pulled up, I saw a set break. It was perfect, offshore, over-head right hand pits. Matt was so excited. He’s hyperactive at the best of times, but he knew we were about to score some madness, and couldn’t stop twitching. Micah was out there first, scoring a deep pit on his first wave. With that incentive, Cain, Nate and Matt joined him. I hung about for a bit, took a few off the land, and waited for some light. As I was swimming out, the sun appeared from nowhere, this had to be a good omen. Everything went perfectly from that point on. For the first hour Matt was on every wave that came, the rest of the boys were waiting for the bigger sets, which left him cleaning up on the inside. He had at least 5 full drainers in a row. Cain had it wired, picking the better waves and making every one. Micah and Nate were playing the waiting game. They both had some solid set waves. They were all getting pitted on every wave they went on. The spot was like a machine, every wave seemed perfect, predictable and so hollow. The smaller waves seemed to connect a bit better but every now and then a bigger set would unload perfectly.

The boys surfed for as long as they could. Matt and Nate wouldn’t let me get out, even though it had stopped breaking, and I had about 50 shots of them both.

We had a bit of Lunch and then met up with Oli and Josh at the next spot. Oli was getting some serious back-hand pits, Josh was frothing and getting some solid ones. Gabe Davies was also in, he was a major stand out. His wave selection was impeccable, he’d sit patiently letting sets go by, then pick an average looking one and get fully shacked and spat out, you’d swear he was a local if you saw him surfing here.

That final day was unreal.

It’s like that every time I leave Ireland. It leaves that lasting image of perfect waves in your mind, the ones that makes you check the report for Ireland, even before your local spot.

For all the driving, petrol stops, early nights, lost passports, begging and blagging  that final day was worth the whole ordeal.

A big thanks to Debbie, Cain and Christine Kilcullen

www.kilcullenseaweedbaths.com