Crusin’ Java: Part II
It was all we could have hoped for…perfect waves were peeling for our first five days. Matt got tubed, Eadie got sun burnt and I found rhythm in the mellow village beat. Eat - surf - sleep - repeat. And then it all changed. It’s hard to know what to expect when you don’t know which swell forecast to read. It came as a surprise to find our point away from home looking like a lake. After running myself into the ground I welcomed the slight reprieve from paddling. For severely surf deprived Zye, the fashionably late arrival didn’t work out to be quite so fashionable. Surfers don’t usually take too kindly to surfless surf trips. I was a little worried that Zye wouldn’t cope. The drought had been too severe already. I was wrong. For one, it turns out that there’s more to offer here than surf (even for ignorant surfers). I’m also quite happy to admit that during this time of the year, the swell doesn’t dissipate for extended periods of time. After a couple of days joyriding on motorbikes and realising that there’s more to life than surfing, our lake morphed back into the fabulous surf spot that we’d become so accustomed to. Here’s the photographic mix of our recent spoils. We’re not going anywhere.
Harrison Roach and the Deus Rat Pack.
Photos by Anthony Dodds, Woody Gooch and Giang Alam Wardani