Results 21 to 30 of 62
Jun 5, 2014, 03:23 PM #21Senior Member
- Join Date
- Jun 2013
- Singer Island
Jun 5, 2014, 03:24 PM #22
Jun 5, 2014, 03:46 PM #23Senior Member
- Join Date
- Oct 2013
- Atlantic City
Jun 5, 2014, 04:21 PM #24
Jun 5, 2014, 04:37 PM #25
Jun 14, 2014, 10:47 PM #26Senior Member
- Join Date
- Jul 2012
- Ocean City Nj
this is why i come onto this site. hate all the other nonsense and hashtag bs.
Jun 15, 2014, 05:43 AM #27
What a story, Speed Bump. I honestly think that you could be an author. You described the place so well, it was like I was there. That story is better than most books these days.
Jun 17, 2014, 10:56 AM #29Junior Member
- Join Date
- May 2014
Some nice sets
Jun 18, 2014, 08:59 PM #30
The chanting from the Buddhist temple across the street rouses me from where I sit, sleep/baking under the tropical morning sun in the alcoholic fumes from the previous night's libations. I had spent what was left of the night--and some of the morning--sleeping on a sand-filled traffic bumper, but at least it was the bumper right outside the "hotel" where my boards were. Hadn't made it back into my rented bed, but, hey, at least I got close close.
The little beachfront party town of **n**n* on the southern tip of *a**a* is one of my favorite places in the whole wide world. Every kind of bar; from a converted VW parked on the side of the road, to a wooden plank affair steps from the water, a hopping night market from dusk till the earlies, tons of domestic tourist girls out to have some fun, and a coastline so convoluted that it is always offshore, 85 degrees, and firing somewhere.
So, a streetside green-onion pancake, a "fried emperor", and a liter of tea later, I am feeling human enough to gather up the posse and resume the typhoon swell chase.
We roll into the parking lot of the fishing harbor and piled out; a string of tanned surfers cutting through the throngs of locals and tourists clustering around the huge concrete edifice of the harborside fishmarket. One of our crew haggles with an old man while the blue but kinda oily harbor water swells tiredly against the concrete piers. I know enough of the language to hire a dinghy, but not enough to explain to the craggy fisherman the idea that we want to go to the reef and get out of the boat, rather than pull fish into it.
A few minutes later we're clear of the breakwaters and growling our way toward the reef, leaving a trail of blue two-stroke smoke behind us as we glide over a undulating mirror of tropical glass. We're grinning like idiots at each other because holy crap is it going to be epic! We can see it from here; a perfect peeling line rolling along the shoals in front of green-carpeted mountain. It is dead calm and sweaty weather even in nothing but board shorts and rashys.
We don't bother waiting for the boat to stop, everybody just tosses their gear overboard and jumps. I'm last out. As the only booger, I get to shepherd the beater log and the cooler we leash to it. The ocean is like a glass coffee table with our gear and crew scattered across it. The old man motors off into the distance. Later when I come back to the log to reapply sunscreen, milk tea, and a nip of suntory, I'll catch a glimpse of him with his nets and lines out and care about what he's doing as much as he does about us.
It's a short paddle to the peak with little spheres of water rolling in front of me with each stroke. Yes, it's epic. No, it's not All Time. The lines wrap into the reef pass much like at HT's. The first peak is a fast critical barrel and it's just a little better than Head High. If you make it out, the wave fizzles into deeper water. You can pump through this soft section, but then it's shallow and boily. Nice view of the reef, but a sketchy ride and even sketchier paddle back out if you get caught by the rest of the set.
Bigger sets mount up on a zag in the reef outside the soft section, with a nice slow workable face that shuts down whoever was riding down the line from first peak. It's a big drop, a couple of meaty carves on a well-overhead face, then it futzes out into a channel. The three + 1 of us bounce back and forth between that big clean face and the racetrack blue room.
Looking in across the reef and lagoon, there's not even a breath of air to turn the two giant wind turbines next to the nuke plant squatting under the jungle-carpeted mountain. When I look back, there's a hump on the horizon that looks a lot like... yes, yes it is, an outside set breaking on 2nd reef. 2nd reef is 30 yards out from all of us. I've ridden it once. It starts out as a gorgeous drainer sucking out over the reef waay up the line, then it gets less and less critical with the barrel going from square to round to almond to foamball on the right swell. We all watch it peel off, mouths agape, and get mowed down by the whitewash. We're having an incredible aquarium fishtank session but every one of us stops to mindsurf that awesome wave. It breaks again, 30 minutes later, but the tide is rising and the swell is hitting it's peak. We're well inside the southernmost limb of *a**a*, and what wraps into **n**n* is not going to get any bigger. It doesn't break again.
We empty the cooler and the [white guys at least] all burn to a crisp. Hours later, red-eyed and thoroughly pickled we wave back the fisherman heft ourselves into a boat now full of his flopping smelly catch, and motor back to the harbor. Heck of a day. Not a breath of air all day long. Amidst the squirting mussels and buzzing flies of the tourist fishmarket, we get a huge plate of sushi over plastic-covered ice, everybody happily shell-shocked and zoned out. It will take the rush of glucose and hydration of a string of slurpees from the islands ubiquitous mini-marts to rouse us out of our torpor and prepare us for another night and day in **n**n*.
Its a hell of a town on a hell of an island anytime, but with a typhoon swell running, it's heaven on earth!