With technological advancements almost an everyday occurrence we can now
rely more so than ever before on the weather to tell us when and where the
pressure systems are going to intensify or dissipate.
In some instances it’s not the technology at fault, but our own! Lack of
knowledge with regards to metrological weather and dissevering accurate
information can cause a potentially disastrous trip. Understanding the weather
and waves will greatly improve your chances for a successful trip. We didn’t
know it yet, but we were about to experience first hand, the trials and tribulations of a very shaky trip.
Low-pressure systems adhere to known patterns
but are in a constant state of flux. The weather and
waves they produce cannot be reliably predicted
beyond three or four days. You have to be ready to
travel anywhere at the drop of a hat. The downside
to such spontaneous decision-making is the
immediate costs involved. Ticket prices soar, direct
flights are often oversold, girlfriends are pissed off
and photographers have already made
arrangements with other clients. Is it all really worth
it? You bet your little arse it is!
Based in Australia during certain months of the year
I have the entire Indian and Southern Oceans at my
fingertips. Spanning from the Tahitian Islands
through to Fiji in the east, to Indonesia in the north,
I have the luxury of monitoring the winds and swells
that are born in Antarctica and slowly grow as they
make their way north in the cold seas of the
Southern Ocean. Like a dog on heat, I wait
feverishly for the right moment, trying to find the
right bitch to ride!
Five hours by plane will get me to any one of these
tropical locations.
Jealous? Well, you should be!
The first spine-tingling moment came around the
beginning of May, with a huge low pressure moving
upward from Antarctica about to slam itself into
Balinese waters. Myself and my buddy ‘Dog’ were
debating whether or not we should go, as there
seemed to be a good size low pressure at home in
South Eastern Australia. We had made the decision
to stay at home and try to sail this solid right-hander
near my hometown. With all our knowledge of local
weather and vast amounts of information we still
made the wrong call. They say that two heads are
better than one, which I guess means that between
the both of us we barely passed for one! Indonesia
was apparently 15-18 foot for three days, with
strong trades. We ended up sailing 3 foot mush at
home. What a mistake! You see, the weather is such
a fickle thing. If you take her for granted or ignore
her too much, she’ll eventually turn around and slap
you in the face. Like all women, she needs
understanding and respect … well maybe not all
women. Lessons in that department seemed to be a
common occurrence for us too!
It wasn’t until mid-August that we saw another low
pressure developing, ripping up the waters of the
Southern Ocean. The size and magnitude of the low
was almost that of the previous low, which hit
Indonesia with such brute force that not one surfer
was seen in the line-up G-Land. The forecast for
Indonesia estimated that the wind was to be a
moderate trade direction with swell readings topping
out at 12-16 feet at twenty seconds. If this was our
reward for our continued patience with the weather,
then ‘she’ must have blessed us with wisdom and
understanding; or maybe ‘she’ was baiting us,
waiting to play another cruel and twisted joke. At any
rate, we had made the decision to go. Neither hell
nor high water was going to stop us now!
The early afternoon arrival into the airport meant
that we had just enough time to check out the
location upon which most of our research was
focused – Uluwatu. It’s a world-class surfing wave on
Bali, with numerous barrel sections and vertical walls
to throw huge cutbacks and airs. A basic description
of Uluwatu would be that it’s like a huge big ball
sack that faces about three hundred degrees of
ocean, and this combined with the myriad of bluffs,
coves and bays means there’s usually a swell/wind
combo. Pathways that look more like tunnels have
been etched through the cliff rock, eventually
weaving their way down to the shoreline.
We had heard stories of wind on the upper part of the
Uluwatu reef. Super glassy waves that break too fast
for surfers and peel down the reef, eventually
connecting up with the main break. It was time to
make these stories our own! As the coastline bends in
and out, soaring majestic temples stick out on the cliff
top faces. One such temple is the Uluwatu temple,
which perches high on a needle of rock at the
southwest extremity of Uluwatu. The temple is
considered as one of the region’s main temples that
every Indonesian will come to pray at during a temple
ceremony. As for the rest of the area, there are more
people living in this mountainous bluff region than
meets the eye, and during certain times of prayer or
festival, thousands seem to appear out of thin air.
Upon my first look at the Uluwatu break, I was
immediately worried about how the wind would
funnel down the sheer cliffs and remain constant as
it hit the waterline. The surf had not yet arrived and I
could not really make out where the outside reef
was. Photography was also going to be a major
problem. The cliff tops made it difficult to get the
correct angle, and there was no real channel for a
photographer and ski to sit. It wouldn’t have been a
problem for us to sit and take shots in the impact
zone, but to convince a photographer with $20,000
of camera equipment to was quiet another,
especially when he had a newly appointed
Indonesian driver behind the wheel. I knew my task
was going to be difficult and the next time I would
see Uluwatu would be from the water.
From that moment, things just went from bad to
worse. A high pressure had stalled the low’s
advances, and the swell that was meant to hit within
24 hours had now been delayed for two days. The
‘old girl’ had obviously wanted to teach us one last
lesson! Essentially, our three days of epic 10foot
plus had turned into only two days with ‘nice’
waves. Predicting the weather is much like playing a
game of golf: you never F-ing get it right!
Doubts that the swell would ever arrive were quickly
answered by a loud pounding on the outside reef at
around 11.30pm that night. Morning saw some of
the shoreline washed away, indicating that it was a
good size. Dog had taken the ski from the hotel and
was on his way to pick me up at another famous
surf break called Pedang, which is just about the
closest beach access to Uluwatu. With two
surfboards, one sailboard, two masts, two sails and
a boom, the ski was definitely overwhelmed with
equipment. We looked more like a Jacque
Cousteau expedition than a couple of surfers!
Rounding the point we could see that Uluwatu was
pumping. Nobody was out at the main break. It was
big albeit not super clean, but further up the reef it
was reeling off super-fast – I could see these glassy
barrels heading towards me. The current at Uluwatu
was so strong it was unbelievable. We tried to
anchor the windsurf equipment on the outside by
tying the anchor-line to the footstrap. With the
combination of the sets and current the entire
windsurf equipment would disappear underwater for
thirty seconds and then pop up again 50yards away
from where we were! I swear, at one stage I felt like
we were in the movie ‘Dumb and Dumber’. We tried
to tie the front of the ski to the anchor-line and
almost lost the entire vessel underwater!
Windsurfing equipment and surfboards floated
away; hats and sunscreen sank; and somehow a
knot at the front of the ski appeared, which even the
best Boy Scout would have had a problem undoing.
I have been up to ‘Jaws’ so many times and had no
problems. I guess it was some kind of Voodoo cure
that had been put on us by the weather Gods. It
seemed that the only solution was to take the
windsurf equipment to the beach and then tow surf
until the breeze started kicking in…
The morning tow session saw sizable sets rolling
through the upper part of the reef known as
‘Outside Corner’, which needs a low tide for it to
start barrelling. It was still high tide, so we just
dropped into a few bombs to familiarise ourselves
with the conditions while we waited for the tide to
drop. There was also a slight bump in the water,
which made the wave a little tricky to ride. Further
down the reef towards the main break, the wave hits
a spot called ‘Race Tracks’, which is basically the
mid-section of the reef. The wave gets really
smooth, fast and hollow. An 8foot set on the outside
seemed to grow as it hit Race Tracks, barrelling and
growing as it made its way along the jiggered reef. I
watched as Dog pulled into an 8footer that grew to
about 10foot plus. It was so hollow that it reminded
me of Teahupoo in Tahiti when I was there in 2000.
With no way out of the barrel, the poor bastard got
nailed!
With that Voodoo curse still hanging on our
shoulders, I then wipe out, hitting my head hard on
the reef. Blood was washing over my face and I
knew I was hurt. I asked Dog if he could take a
look. He replied, “No mate – it’s just a scratch!”
Now, when it comes to medical emergencies Dog is
without doubt the last person you need to be asking
advice from! A hole in your head the size of a
gunshot wound would simply be ‘a slight chafing of
the skin’. Naturally I took his advice with a pinch of
salt … and kept surfing.
Around 2.00pm the breeze started to ever-so-slightly
fill in on the outside line up. I decided to grab my
windsurfing gear and see if I could get into a few
cheeky waves. Venturing past Race Track was
almost unbearable. All I could see was barrel after
barrel, with these huge perfectly shaped walls
peeing towards me. If only there was enough wind it
would have been the best session of all time. The
huge cliffs that span the entire beach seemed to be
the obvious reason why the wind couldn’t fill in
here. Maybe on the perfect day you could score it,
but all the elements would have to be in perfect
harmony. Even the Outside Corner seemed to be
affected by the cliffs. Wind swirled around, and
glassy spots would appear out of nowhere.
