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Indonesia Are you Experienced 2? Boat versus Overland - Steve England Despite the fact that few surfers can call themselves pioneers and most of us are following an already well-beaten track, travelling surfers have a habit of categorising their colleagues. If you’re an Aussie, you must know everything and win everything. If you’re a Yank you must be loud and obnoxious. If you’re a Jap you must travel with 30 of your mates. If you’re a Brazilian, you must drop in on everyone. And of course, if you’re a Brit you must get very, very drunk at every opportunity and cultivate third degree sunburn. Add to this the 'backpacker', ‘tourist', 'traveller', 'feral', 'boaty', 'hardcore', 'softcore' tags and you have an efficient means of instantly attaching cultural status. Nowhere is this most apparent and amusing as in surfing’s most popular travel destination, Indonesia. With everyone having strong opinions, the boat versus overland argument is always a talking point. The 'hardcore’, or as they are now more commonly known 'ferals', seem to delight in torturing themselves as much as possible. “I’m staying somewhere considerably mankier than you,” they’ll claim with some pride. “I’ve eaten somewhere considerably dirtier and more cholera-infested than you.” If you ain’t living the life of a Sumatran leper in 1 BC then you’re instantly labelled “an undeserving softcock tourist” by those deemed to be doing it “right”. The first time I went to Lakey Peak in Sumbawa some ten years ago. I stayed in the infamous La Stari which was the only camp there apart from the upmarket Mona Lisa, rumoured to have fans in the rooms and a pool table. La Stari patrons hated the Mona Lisa posse. It was where the “Brazilian tourists” stayed. This hatred was doubly compounded after half the neighbouring village rioted over a small bucket of fish and fought their way through a small picket fence and into camp one afternoon. Nowadays — being older, wiser and a gainfully employed working man — I’m straight into the freezing luxury of the air con bungalows at Aman Gati faster than you can say “Tamah casi”! (Thanks very much in Indo!) I snigger at the losers from La Stari who come into the relatively palatial restaurant for some respite from the heat and a glimpse of satellite TV! A few years earlier the boot had been on the other foot. I’d survived my last month in Australia on a daily diet of a piece of bread, one tin of spaghetti, and any scraps that my long-suffering girlfriend could blag from her job at the local takeaway. I was too core to work, so I subjected myself to starvation and sent the missus out to secure a paltry income* as I saved for the cost of a boat trip to G-Land. Cunning, eh!
It was early days in boat trips and the first season the Surf Travel Company had run trips into Java. Back then, there was only one makeshift camp at G-Land and the guys staying there hated the recent intrusions by the “boat trippers”. As far as they were concerned, we weren’t core enough. I wasn’t worried though. Having managed to develop rickets in Australia, and get blood poisoning within days of arriving in Bali, my mind was made up. The tigers, snakes, mozzies and jungle lurgies would finish me off for sure if I stayed at the camp. And besides, I had to spend my girlfriend's hard earned cash wisely. So this time I was ocean-bound! Our boat had air-con, a booming stereo, a big TV with VCR, and comfy bunks where the mozzies couldn’t get us. More importantly, our boat’s inflatable dinghy would ferry us into the lineup, negating the hideous barefoot walk across the coral and even riskier paddle-out to get to the heaving lineup. As long as you didn’t get caught inside, the only time you’d see the reef was as it whizzed underneath the inflatable taxi as you sped back for breakfast. We worked out two signals for the crew: one meant “Put the dinner on, I’m very hungry and will need picking up after another couple of waves”, and the other, “Come and get me, my good man, it’s time for tiffin”. In the lineup I chatted to the camp crew who recounted plenty of horror stories. They were on the brink of starvation. The chef had disappeared with the shopping budget four days ago and their remaining supplies had been eaten the night before by some large creature which ransacked the camp. They’d run out of anti-malaria pills. The inflatable they used to get across to Grajagan village was gone. In short they were up a jungle creek without a paddle. In the end, faced with a humanitarian disaster, our captain had to give them some of our rations — much to the annoyance of several of my loud Ocker shipmates (who’d drunk the whole ten-day beer ration on our first night at sea). “Farkin’ ferals, should’ve booked a boat, mate!” This act of generosity just compounded the situation and resulted in a whole lot of stink-eye stares. The whole atmosphere was less than hospitable. One night I looked out of the cabin window and saw the distant camp lights flickering in the gloom, attracting all sorts of blood-sucking creatures. As my eyes adjusted in the moonlight I noticed a small shadowy man wander down to the beach and start throwing stones at our boat. I adjusted my pillow and snuggled into my luxury feather mattress. If the mozzies couldn’t get us out here, he had no chance. Today of course the controversy is multiplied by the amount of travellers doing it both ways. Thanks to high-tech communication, improved infrastructures and air routes it is possible to hold down a decent job and enjoy surf travel at the same time. You can be sat at a desk in the Midlands one day, and be sipping a Pina Colada on a yacht off Sumatra 48 hours later. The boat trippers stump up hard-earned cash to take advantage of the mobility, accessibility and comfort of motor yachts. If you’re on a boat that cruises at 18 knots in the Mentawai's you’re pretty much guaranteed to be able to surf three or more times a day, every day, for twelve days. If the swell or wind changes direction, you can move on without subjecting yourself to the rigours of Indo stylee land travel. Access to a boat opens the possibility of living all your dreams. 90% of the time it’s the best way to go. But staying on land has it’s plus points. More time to explore, more time to hang out and the chance of scoring that mystical spot at it’s best. Going overland you’ll also probably have life changing experiences, meet the indigenous peoples and maybe even make a positive contribution towards some kid’s education (provided this isn’t in ‘swear words of the globe'). In short, you’ll get the type of experiences you can’t get anchored 100 yards offshore. Any stay in the wilds of Indo guarantees an eventful existience. From startling scorpions with your crown jewels after they have settled in your baggies after a night of scuttling about, to lying awake after hearing of tales of black magic up the road, and maybe even witnessing death. This is existence at it most unpredictable and volatile. It’s as if life picks you up by the ankles like a new born kid, smacks your arse and blasts Guaram Guaram (the clove cigarettes the locals smoke constantly) scented oxygen up your sinuses. Not that this contact is always so good for the local population. Dont forget, not so long ago the Sumatran tribes neither needed nor comprehended the concept of money. They just traded goods. The incoming surfers act as role models for many of the indignous youngsters. If they’re all drunken, self centred and filled with indearing Western traits such as greed, materialism and little respect for fellow man, then don’t be too surprised if future generations of kids start playing up. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better for them if 'we' did all stay on boats. Whatever the impact and the effects and arguments for and against, there is little doubt that as this decade advances ever more sophisticated surf camps are springing up even in the most remote areas. These can offer both the excitement of overland travel and the security, and the sanctuary of luxury goods that we in the modern world can’t do without. We may or may not book package holidays, but we’re all tourists in this ever changing life. As surfing becomes more popular and we all try to escape our everyday lives it is inevitable that wherever we go there will be other surfers. How we choose to experience surf travel is down to the individual, dictated by circumstance, luck and priorities. So, if you’re young and adventurous why not challenge yourself and go overland for a few months? If you’ve discovered family life and have to hold down a job, why not treat yourself to a surf trip on your two-week break? (Non surfing partners: make a mental note!) Indonesia is accessible and affordable which ever way you choose to go. If you compare the price a surfer pays for a boat trip in paradise to the cost an average holidaymaker would pay for their perfect holiday, and you can see we get off lightly. So why not book that ticket? Just think - while you’ve been sat there reading this, someone’s scoring the waves of their life. * Note to staunch feminists.This was an equal work opportunity! Boat charters
Here’s a selection of charter boats and surf camps that you may want to investigate if you’re planning an Indo trip. (Disclaimer We haven’t checked out all of these ourselves, but they are operated by reputable companies.) Santa Luisia (Pure Vacations budget boat) Huey 1 THE BOAT WE WENT ON Bobbies Surf Camp G Land Freedom: JERSEY BOY'S BOAT Indo Jiwa Mangalui Ndulu SWILLY, TIKI TIM AND CHOPS' MATE The Indies Explorer (Laut India) - CALLAGHAN'S BOAT PARTNER Aman Gati Hotel, Lakey Peak, Sumbawa Nomad Info: Wavehunters When travelling to Indo full travel insurance is an absolute neccessity, and should include Medivac options. You should also get coverage for charter days that may be lost due to unforeseen circumstances or emergencies. |
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