THE
SURFTIME JOURNAL
GRAJAGAN: The great mystery remains. MENTAWAI: Be afraid. Be very afraid. KAILANI JOHNSON: She knows what she is doing.
CAUGHT INSIDE # 130
Remember, we are all in this together. Tip your hat to the boys at KSD ding repair next time you scooter by. The question is can we keep it up? The answer is yes, as long as, like a satellite in outer space, we can keep our orbit from decaying. Our orbit being the entire biomass system of tourists and waves that keep the island of Bali’s heart beating. Right now the best we can do is deal with it. But dealing with something means having it in hand. Which we barely do. What happens when we lose our grip? One need only look at the shortcut in Canggu to see what kind of inhuman chaos ensues. The answer? For everyone on earth to be thoughtful. Which millions of years on earth has proven impossible. It’s just not in our survival mode. So what’s next? Circle the wagons, I guess. Take our surfing world, observe our orbit’s momentum and health and keep it in hand. And we have such a wonderful orbit happening. But now, with the steamrolling effect of greed tourism and irresponsible development sounding like a death knell, it’s time to look at Bali’s surfing healthspan rather than its lifespan. The day to day stuff. The small picture. The decisions right in front of us individually. And that
is up to us. All of us, from the guys that repair our dings to the captains of industry to the members of the sacred culture that surrounds us all. The dollar is not sacred. This island is. Our waves are. We are. Think healthspan, not lifespan. A clean orbit. So that we can avoid disastrous splashdowns. It’s so damn easy. Do one great thing for this island home once a day. Even if it is a simple prayer, a simple promise. And then live by it. And live with it. We can do this. And we hope the beauty of the images and stories in this new issue of Surftime inspires you to do so. We have so much to protect. So much to be thankful for. So much to do. It just isn’t that hard. And remember, we aren’t here to scold you. We are just hoping that all of us, maybe, just maybe, will someday live in a Bali where the noise of scolding will hide behind the noise of appreciation. Let’s get to it. It might start in the line-up, but it ends in your heart. -Matt George, Editor-in-Chief
Ziggy Mackenzie, 2023 warm-up carving out her place in theperfect line-up and lev- roll in over the reefs of our country. But those in the Sometimes it is just too damnsession, hard to believe how many waves eling the playing field with the men. Ziggy Mackenzie, 2023 warm-up session, carving out know that it has nothing to do with luck and more know, the real seekers who know how to get there at the right time, they her place in the line-up and leveling the playing field with the men to do with the desire to get out there and be part of the banquet. Westin Hirst, wunderkind, digging in on a neighbor island. Where were you? Photo of the year by Santos Wau.
THE LAST TIGER
GRAJAGAN STILL HOLDS MYSTERIES
It’s easy in Indonesia to take for granted finding yourself in dreamy conditions. Happens everyday. But there will always be something very special when a talent like Usman Trioko, Desert Point trained, ranges out beyond his own island’s borders and tastes the perfection on the southeast tip of Java. Photography by Harry Pieters
(An excerpt from the new book IN DEEP: The collected surf writings of Matt George, Di Angelo Publications, 2023). Part One Moving from the dry jungle, she padded to her place on a small rise that looks out over the Ocean. She had time yet. The late day sun was cooling and she was waiting for the scent. The scent that came when the Ocean would withdraw and the land beneath would become exposed to the sky. Then she could saunter down among the shallow green pools of water and slap fish and crabs and eels from the shallow pools with her great paws. The monkeys would follow her. And they would dart in for a steal as her pile of fish and crabs and eels grew behind her. She would roar and swipe at the monkeys and, like a flock of birds, the monkeys would scatter and reform and try again and again. When it came time to feed, she would carry her squirming pile of food in her great jaws and go back to her spot overlooking the reef. There, she would hang her head and eat slowly. And she would listen for signs of danger in the silence that came between the great waves that would roll in hissing unison across the edge of the reef in the distance. Later, the sun would set and she would return to her mate and cubs and they would hunt the wild boar together until dawn. A noise. Her head shoots up, ears pricked, eyes searching. Men. Two men. Pale men. Approaching on foot on the beach. Always a danger, men. Though she sensed these two were weak and tired. And they carried things that did not look like danger. Unlike the steel poles the poachers used. And the two men on the beach were not interested in the jungle. They were always looking out to sea, shading their eyes with their hands again and again. Still, she decided, she would have to keep her distance until she knew more about them. How to avoid them. Or how to eat them. She left her scraps for the monkeys and silent as smoke, vanished into the jungle.
With dry jungle at your back and the land beneath your feet, Grajagan takes on a very different aspect. Watching on, a wildness, a meaningful union between surfer and wave, the adventure of it all becomes apparent. Nyoman Satria, taking the mystery and the muscle on at Speedies. Photography by Paul Viney
Demian Amar, throwing his weight around, sets up what everybody comes to Grajagan for. That inside final section that is guaranteed to take your breath away. Photography by Willy Souw
Raju Sena, deep in the heart of the Grajagan experience. It changes you. And you never get enough. Photography by Willy Souw
Raju Sena entertaining the boys in the channel. Photography by Donny Lopez
Demian Amar, gathering the needed speed for Speedies. Photography by Donny Lopez
With confidence comes style. Nyoman Satria, surfing with both. Photography by Donny Lopez
Left: It’s the hand that tells the tale. That sensation, that communication that comes when you skim your hand against a perfect wall of breaking water. Komang Kopral Yudha, being the impeccable timing within a splendid moment. Photography by Donny Lopez
A perfect tide on the edge of a still wild jungle calls Nyoman Satria and the boys for a blazing noon time session. Amid all the mysteries of the Alas Purwo, the waves of Grajagan provide answers for those who seek perfect moments within the wild. Photography by Paul Viney
Part Two: She limped on three of her four powerful legs. The three bullets had entered her right hip and two of them had split her intestines in two. She limped on, ahead of the poachers, her bottom jaw slack, her breathing rattling with the blood in her throat. Her cubs were gone, having eaten the poisoned garbage left out for the wild pigs by the humans. Her mate had died a while back, trapped in a net by poachers so as not to harm the precious fur for the taxidermist. Now it was she that was their prey, being driven toward the sea. She would have to turn and fight soon. But she limped on, weakening. She tried to stay concealed, but reaching the edge of the jungle, she crossed a clearing, palm-sized blood drops marking her trail. She made the rise and could go no further. She lay to rest but kept her head up, waiting for the end. The familiar scent of the low-tide sea overwhelmed her. She watched the waves march down the reef and heard their familiar hissing. She roared in outrage once. It took all her
strength. The monkeys, smelling the blood and fearing the roar, gazed with their blinking, thieving eyes from the canopy above. She could see the lights of the surf camps. So bright these days. So many humans. She could also see the flashlights of the approaching poachers and hear their clumsy snapping of twigs as they crept closer through the trees. A monkey screeched warning and the canopy hissed and moved and rained leaves. She could not keep her head up any longer and she rested her bottom jaw on her great paws. The moonlight cast a silvery stripe on the face of each wave that broke on the reef. Like a flashing fish making good an escape from the following whitewater. The flashlights had found her. A poacher drew a bead on her left eye with his rifle in order to protect her valuable fur. And in one last great effort, she lifted her head and roared at the sea. The report of the rifle cut off her roar and, like smoke, both sounds echoed out over the reef and dissipated into the moonlit sky. (In Deep is available at finer surf shops and online at Amazon,com).
TAO OF KAI
KAILANI JOHNSON IN BLACK & WHITE By Leo Maxam • Photography by Nate Lawrence
Kailani Johnson threading through the Padang Padnag bowl under the watchful eyes of a thoroughly stoked Taj Burrow. Once the domain of men only, women like Kailani are carving out their place in one of the most competitive line-ups in the world.
Poised and comfortable in the pocket, Kailani is drawing the kind of clean lines at Padang Padang that are the envy of most visitors, earning her waves with every barrel she pulls into.
Drop in late on a bomb, time the bottom turn perfectly and hang on for the ride of your life. Kailani has got it down. No longer do the boys shoulder hop her, they know this local girl is going to make it.
One more big wave and our little boat is going down. Ours wouldn’t be the first ship to sink in this notoriously stormy channel between two Mentawai islands – although this wooden bath toy barely qualifies as a ship. With each battering swell, the weathered planks flex and moan as if to say, “I wasn’t built for this!” I turn to check on Kailani Johnson. The 21-year-old pro surfer from Bali has her earbuds in, head nodding to a rhythm. Her eyes are focused on the whitewater steadily rinsing over our boat’s tiny portholes like the inside of a car wash. If Kai is nervous, she’s not showing it. We’re stretched out on our backs, side by side like sardines in a tin can, the boat’s roof mere inches from our noses. I can’t help but feel like we’re in a floating coffin. In the rear of the boat, our captain is squinting into the storm, eyes locked on the horizon while swells converge on us from all directions. He’s soaked from head to toe, a damp cigarette slotted defiantly between his lips. He pulls out his phone and shouts something into the receiver. I can’t make it out, but it sounds like panic. Kai removes one earbud. “What did he say?” I smile and try to act as though our current situation is as normal as sitting in Bali traffic. “I think he told his wife he was gonna be home late for dinner.” I first met Kai years ago in Rote Island when she was a wideeyed 15-year-old grommet on one of her first surf trips outside of Bali. I was helping produce the water scenes with Kai and fellow Bali youngster Varun Tandjung for the film Kulari Ke Pantai by award-winning Indonesian filmmakers Mira Lesmana and Riri Riza. Kai was soft-spoken and thoughtful, easy to work with. Since then, Kai’s surfing career has taken her to places that quiet grommet only dreamed of. Winning a WQS event, becoming the No. 1 ranked female surfer in Asia and qualifying for the WSL Challenger Series two years in a row. Most recently she represented Indonesia in the ISA Olympic qualifying competition in El Salvador. But it’s still hard for me not to think of Kai as that shy 15-year-old kid, who last winter in Hawaii still couldn’t order a glass of wine at dinner. She’s the precious cargo on board and I can’t help but feel responsible for her. What am I gonna tell Kai’s family if something happens? Will the Indonesian government have me deported for endangering one of their best hopes for the Olympics? Will Kai step up and charge the XXL swell due to hit during her first trip to Mentawais? More importantly, will we even make it to the Mentawais? The good news. We made it safely to paradise. The not so good news. So did everyone else. We pull up to Hideaways on the Kandui Villas resort boat for our opening salvo and are greeted by spinning lefts over the shallow reef, but with this south wind, every other camp and charter boat in the area has the same idea. It’s a hungry lineup, made ravenous by the long lulls between sets. As is often the case, Kai is the only female surfer in the water.
A pack of six Brazilians is jealously guarding the main peak like hyenas defending a dead carcass. One heavily tattooed alpha male insists on paddling for every single set wave that comes in and then cutting in front of everyone straight back to the top again. Kai jumps off our boat and paddles confidently into the fray, patiently working her way to the front of the line. But after 15 minutes without her catching a wave, I’m starting to stress. How are we gonna get clips of Kai for our project if everyone out here is surfing like panic buyers at the grocery store before a hurricane? “Fuck these guys,” I say. “Come on, let’s take the next set. I’ll block for you.” “Just chill, I got this,” says Kai. “No one’s gonna give me waves, and I don’t expect them to. Once people see that you’re going for it, that’s how you get respect.” Kai is the youngest daughter of Richard Johnson and Ade Handayani. Richard was a young California surfer exploring Hawaii and Bali in the late 70s and early 80s in search of perfect surf and adventure when he met Ade, a beautiful Balinese girl from Klungkung, East Bali. The two soon fell in love, got married and settled in Nusa Dua, Bali, where they started a building supply company, making custom doors and windows for resorts and villas around the island. At four years old, Kai was already surfing with her father and older sister, Pua, at the Nusa Dua beaches around her home. One of her earliest memories is stand-up surfing on a bodyboard at the inside waves in the lagoon at Geger Beach. When Kai was in the first grade, the teacher asked everyone in the class to draw what they wanted to be when they grew up. There were doctors and firemen and even a movie star. But Kai was the only professional surfer. She drew herself riding a big wave and holding a first place trophy. With her father as her coach and sister Pua, four years older, pushing her with a healthy rivalry, Kai’s surfing developed rapidly. She and Pua competed in all the local grom and boardriders comps around Bali, and by 2018, Kai had become the WSL’s No. 1 ranked female surfer in Asia. “To this day, I’m a firm believer that you speak things into existence,” says Kai. When the next Hideaways set looms on the horizon, Kai is up and in the spot. The alpha hyena is already licking his chops and making plenty of unnecessary splashing in an attempt to mark his territory on the gem of a wave. But he backs off when we sees Kai paddle with commitment from deep behind the peak. We all watch buckets of spray from the back as Kai makes a sharp bottom turn and belts a steep section, recovers at the bottom and continues the wrap four more turns before kicking out over nearly dry reef on the inside. “To this day, the majority of the lineup is men,” says Kai. “I’ve always felt this expectation that because I’m a girl, I have to go for it in order for a lot of the guys to respect me. I grew up with that mindset from my dad, you don’t have to catch every wave, but the waves you paddle for, you better go.” This might be Kai’s first trip to the Mentawais, but she’s
made it clear to everyone in the lineup that she’s not just here to watch. She will go. My back is on fire. “How’s it look, doctor?” I ask, wincing from the lime juice searing into the freshly grated flesh across my shoulder blades, courtesy of an angry west swell Kandui closeout section over sharp dry reef. “You’ll live,” says Kai. She catches the worried look across my face in the bathroom mirror. “Don’t worry,” she adds. “I’ve been dong this since I was little.” When her dad would return home with a surfing injury, Kai and Pua would be enlisted to administer first aid. “Mom wasn’t good with blood,” explains Kai. “One day my dad might come home with a big slice across his back. Another day I might have to learn how to dig urchin spines out of his feet with a needle.” With the calm of a seasoned medic, Kai asks me about work to help take my mind off the pain. We talk about the Rip Curl Padang Cup holding period we just wrapped up, and Kai’s historic performance at Padang during the event Warm-Up, when she was the standout performer and snagged one of the best barrels of the day in front of legends like Taj Burrow, Clay Marzo and Mason Ho. “I feel like I showed just a little bit of what I can do,” Kai says of her breakout performance in heavy tubes. “It was really cool and really special and I would love to show more of that side of my surfing.” Kai asks me what’s next after our Kandui trip and we compare upcoming travel plans. Kai will return to the WQS travel grind, with three events still remaining on the 2023 Asian regional schedule, Cloud 9 in the Philippines,Taiwan, and Korea. After the Asian leg concludes, she’ll head to the North Shore for the upcoming winter season. “Traveling has taught me how to adapt,” Kai says as she swipes on some triple antibiotic ointment and expertly bandages me up. “Whether it’s traveling, or competing in a heat, or just life in general, you have this perfect idea of how you want things to go. But sometimes things don’t always go that way. And when you’re trying to force things, it takes you out of the flow. Surfing and traveling have taught me to just go with the flow.” Kai’s wise words ring like a salve and my shoulders finally relax. I’m starting to understand that she is no rookie. She’s a pro. Professional athlete. Professional traveler. And she’s been working to achieve this lifestyle since she was in the first grade. This whole trip I’ve been worried about watching out for Kai, but it turns out she’s been watching out for me. “I love solo traveling,” continues Kai, “but it’s really important who you have around you.” After our Mentawai adventure, I couldn’t agree more.
No movie captured the madness of the Vietnam War better than “Apocalypse now”. And writer John Milius’s beloved Yater spoon Ever since the last occurrence of a significant earthquake in the Mentawai megathrust zone in 2000, no significant represented both the madness of the conflict earthquake eventssurfers have been recorded, according to the earthquake repetition cycle, suggests that the zone is and the length will go to keep which, the feela potential epicenter of future earthquakes. Make no mistake, even though the Mentawai may seem like paradise, it ing of individual freedom in their lives. can turn into a nightmare in an instant. Ian Crane, walking the fine line between heaven and hell.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MENTAWAI PLAYGROUND Text by Matt George • Photography by Lost Indo
The betrayal was complete. A roaring wall of Ocean water bursting through the jungle in the darkness of night. A sea where there should be no sea. Her child ripped from her arms, her husband found mangled and reeking in the debris two days later. She still could not bear the thought of what had happened to her sleeping infant. Below her left ankle, her foot had been half-severed from her bones after a tumbling nightmare through the grove of palm trees, tin rooftops ripping against the night like scythes. Here, on her home island of Silabu, she walks and remembers all this. She will always remember. A lot of her died that night. Her eyes had swum before her as the doctor’s big, hooked needle entered her skin around her raw wound. Her foot was now a swollen, bleeding pumpkin. She had passed out at the sight. She was afraid to sleep. The nightmare might return. That hoarse, steady roar of the Ocean, the screams, the entire village running past her home, that last wild look at the impossible sight behind her as she dove with her child into the safety of the small church. Then the explosion of wood and water and pews and prayer missals and hymn books and tin roofing. An ungodly force ripping her little girl from her arms forever. The tumbling eternity underwater. Lungfuls of it. The vomiting. And then the jungle silence. She remembered, in that moment, everything had changed inside her. She had reached up to her throat and ripped the cross pendant from around her neck. Now, she walks and remembers much. That next morning, a group of women who had lost their children and their men had come to her for help. They were to all to form a sort of orphanage. She was asked to be the headmaster. She was already holding another woman’s infant to her left breast. As her milk flowed into the tiny creature, the sparks of a new connection to her island were formed. But this time far different than before. This time not with the enraptured sky of her abandoned religion, but with the mud between her toes. Because she could feel this suckling baby’s heartbeat through her nipple. A faint, pulling whisper. She had her secret. A new belief. The village women had told her not to worry. That Jesus Christ, in all his wisdom, had planned this all for them. It was a test of faith. Their doorway to heaven. The women had spoken of the Lord and his mysterious ways. That Jesus Christ was hope. He would provide. She had fought back a frown and nodded. Because she had a plan of her own now. She would whisper the truth. In the orphanage, she would whisper the real truth into the ears of the young. She would whisper to them to never trust the phantoms of the sky ever again. That no thickbearded God, no old white man, was sitting on a throne in the clouds and waiting for them with milk and honey. She would whisper to them that their world would always be here. In the mud. A world of bone and gristle, of blood and sand and more blood and jungle steam and the malevolent sea. And that nature would truly scream again. And that it would have nothing to do with Jesus Christ. Be ready, she would whisper into their small ears. This is your home, no one else’s. You must know how the Ocean can betray you. And she would whisper these truths. She would tell them that in their world, they would find no peace from hardship. That theirs was a world of savage beauty. She would tell them. She walks, sweating in the jungle heat, and remembers all this from the years before.
Griffin Colapinto, flying above the Indo-Australia plate and the Eurasia plate, both grinding against each other as inexorably as time itself. Sooner or later, something’s gotta give.
Ian Crane, in his own epicenter of why we travel to the Ring of Fire in the first place.
Ian Crane on afterburners. Kolohe Andino saluting the effort. An exhilirating moment. Yet it seems that paradise always comes with a price. And in the Mentawai, one of the most seismically active locations on earth, that price can, and has, cost lives.
She had kept her secret. Kept her promise. She had whispered to the children and they had understood. Magical tales of magical beings and magical lands that await the obedient were just that, magical tales and no more. Their lives were here and not up in the sky. Now there were more white men around. Anchored in big boats in the greater bay not far from her jungle home. They were here to play in the Ocean and they needed more food. She carried a large basket of fish and fruit and eggplants and palm sago balanced atop her head. As she walked, a band of village orphans scrambled about her feet on the narrow trail. The moist jungle opened to the beach, its coral sands white as flour and dry as bones. And the greater bay spread out before them. A number of big boats were at restless anchor near the reef’s crashing waves, and she could see the dots that were the white people playing in the Ocean. They would catch the waves on their small surfboards and stand up on the waves and shoot across the faces of them over the reef and into the deep channel. It looked like a kind of merrymaking. And that made her wonder if they new, really knew, just how vile their playground could become. The children who had followed her fanned out into the sun and sand, marveling at the shells and the hermit crabs and the bone dryness. The open dome of the sky, unobstructed by the jungle canopy. Full of all the possibilities of reality. She could see a sea eagle soaring above the greater bay. And she thought about how lucky that creature was. To be able to fly from harm in an instant. If only she could have flown away that night, her baby in her arms. A smaller boat from one of the bigger boats had seen her and was coming her way. So, she put her burden down to wait. The kids were excited, knowing the white men would bring sweets and sugar drinks for them, as they always did. She remains standing. She never sits near the Ocean. Not anymore. Not ever. She feels the soles of her feet rooted to the ground, able to run, feeling her regrets from that night long ago. If only she would have had warning. So she stands and sweats in the heat and watches the beach and the sea and the white men on the sea. Then, as she always does, she squints her eyes toward the undulating blue horizon. Wondering when. Never trusting. Never again. And a shiver runs up her spine.
When all it takes is a geological slip, the future of surfing in the Mentawai will always be up in the air.
GIRL POWER:
A Poets Heart:
A meditation on Flora Christen Baturbatur By Isis Flack • Photography by Didit Prasetyo
Batu Bolong, Java, you have caught a flash of the infectious smile belonging to Flora Christen Butarbutar, Indonesia’s first professional female longboarder. Aside from the effortless way she weaves through the crowded line-up with a natural grace, Flora’s poise doesn’t stop at the nose of her single fin. She has consistently broken every stereotype when it comes to surfing in Indonesia. In the quick flash of seven years, Flora has not only found, but propelled a career within the surf industry as professional female surfer. She’s also the face of an Asia-wide beauty campaign for Dove soap, has been featured on ESPN’s women, and has taken the podium at the Asian Women’s Surf Championships. All the more impressive when you realize she first picked up a surfboard at 25 years old. Whether she meant to or not, Flora’s rise to prominence set a precedent for Indonesian women. One that has highlighted inclusion, cutting against the country’s historical lack of female participation in the sport. Finding herself set among the trials and tribulations of a woman conquering a reformation. One of reinforced ideals. A pioneer, a pivot of career. A journey, from city to serenity. Delighting in a ride found once in a lifetime. Having supported her entire family through her adolescence, Flora dropped her corporate 9-5 job to take some well-deserved time off, much to the surfprise of her extended family. And, to absolutely no surprise, that time off lead her to the beaches of Bali. “Like everyone these days, I was trying to catch whitewash down in Batu Balon with all those beginners. The only difference being, I was the only
Indonesian girl out there, alone. I kept hearing ‘What are you trying to do? Go home, you’re not supposed to be here’. Honestly, from that moment on, I knew I was going to have to show everyone exactly how it’s done.” It’s the ease at which Flora broke Indonesian stigma’s ingrained in the local surf culture. It’s the way she found her calling so comfortably in her mid-twenties. It’s her seamless yet powerful trajectory to finding her passionate voice. When you speak to her, it’s hard not to get emotionally engulfed in admiring the humble way she tells her story, one that’s as unique and tangible as it is relatable. One step, two step. Glimmering as the water hits her temperamental feet. Finding her stability, in the unpredictability, of a mother ocean. A silhouette caught in crested sunlight. Embracing femineity, imploring femineity. An intermediary, carving her own path, between the men dropping in around her. Flora helms an undeniable empowerment in the way she carries herself, a contagious calm that stands out in stark naked to the everyday island tourist chaos that is Bali. She is a vivid trailblazer reminding us that you can quit that nowhere job, you can decide to start again, you can be an adult and pursue your calling. “Just walk out there. If you fall, you fall. It’s only water” she smiles. A unique trajectory, showing no signs of stopping.
Flora Christen Baturbatur, ever looking toward the horizon for just one more.
An incredible talent, especially when considering she began surfing at 25 years old. Flora does not observe limitations, she ignores them.
Georgie May, Berawa, photographed by Jason Reposar, on 11/10/2023, 1640pm.
GIRL POWER:
ELATION:
GEORGIE MAY HAS GOT IT DOWN By Isis Flack Great happiness and exhilaration. “If I’m jet-lagged I go for a surf, If I’m not feeling great I got for a surf, if something has happened… I go for a surf.” - Georgie-May Hicks. Elation, that feeling found in the spaces left by big moments. A smirk under the sunshine, a win, a moment frozen in emotional purgatory. Floating in that expanse, held between idyllic turquoise waves and foamy breaks, you’ll find Georgie-May Hicks. The England National Surfing Jr Champion and ISA World Jr #19 is no stranger to reinvigorating her heart, and smile, in the ocean, “I honestly find happiness in support. It’s those moments when you’re in a low position. That’s when you sit back and realise, wow this is unbelievable.” “You have so many people backing you, you feel like you can do absolutely anything.” With a wisdom beyond her years seldom come across, Hicks has unearthed her maturity - and adjacent calling - getting voluntarily thrown around and spat out in the Indian Ocean. “No matter how good you are, you’re still always against Mother Nature… You’re never going to win.” “It’s full of heartbreak and absolute trauma, but when you come out on top, it’s pure addiction.” Connecting with the sea, in her own characteristically brutal, yet subtly feminine way, Georgie-May has solidified her own raw talent through the inevitable highs and lows of carving out her career in the reality-bending breaks surrounding Bali. “I think it’s taught me so many life lessons, being out there. Having to battle with something so raw, it’s unreliable. Especially when you’re surfing big waves, you witness the rawness, the power to it.” “You’re always conscious of what’s going on around you: okay, where do I need to paddle, where is this rip going to take me, which wave is best in this set. It’s my own personal form of meditation.” The feeling of internal calm warmth we all strive for, a meditative state of true bliss. That enduring state of mind that encompasses joy, contentment, love, fullness; relentlessly trying to find your own meaning in the madness of life. A constant battle, as recognisable in the ebbs and flows of the tides, as it is in the brief flash of a pearly-white smile. For you, it can mean getting barrelled for the first time, landing that air you’ve spent months building the courage for, finding your breath again as you reach for the water’s surface. If you’re Georgie-May Hicks, elation’s found in “those moments when you feel uncomfortable.” “You don’t know where you are, you haven’t been there before, you don’t know any of the faces around you. You just know, you’ll eventually look back at a photo and think, what I would do to relive that one moment.”
GIRL POWER:
free flow
Our female groms are coming of age
Imari Hearn, 15 yrs Smooth, Intelligent, Hungry. Training Ground: Racetrack, Uluwatu Surftime Call: “With great body control and momentum Imari is a graceful surfer. But this does not mean she lacks power. She also rarely wipes out, which allows her to rip down the line without anyone thinking about dropping in on her. As her power increases, so will her success. Photography by Thiago Okazuka
GIRL POWER:
Fiona Alexandra, 10 yrs Joyful, Enthused, Observant. Training Ground: Halfway Beach, Kuta Surftime call: “It’s always charming to see the stoke in a young surfer and Fiona displays it on every wave. Like most younger groms she is more interested in jamming around than working on perfect technique, but with age and muscle and custom boards will come a very promising surfer indeed. And she always surfs with a smile, and that will carry her through the rough spots”. Photography by Paul Viney
GIRL POWER: Una Young Lee, 15 yrs
Courageous, Committed, Mature. Training ground: Big waves “One look at this photo and you just know where Una Young Lee is going. You can’t buy respect, you earn it, and Una Young Lee earns it time and again. Fearless in the heavy stuff, means very dangerous in the small stuff. Her aura will surely intimidate in heats. We are all looking forward to the development of the new backside hopeful”. Photography by Jack Lakey
BOY POWER:
Rajo Saputra, 15 yrs
Radical, Expert Tuberider, Aerial Master. Training ground Lakey Peak Surftime call: “From out of Sumbawa comes a true talent. For years Rajo has been blowing minds at Lakey Peak with his wild tuberiding abilities and high flying airs. His challenge will be translating these formidable skills to real world competition and having the confidence to travel far from home. Wire this, and future championships are his for the taking”. Photography by Antonio Vargas
BOY POWER: Kalani Ryan, 14 yrs
Intelligent, Tube Master, Determined. Training Ground: Secret spots Surftime call: “Kalani is easily the most intelligent surfer of the new crop. Though possessing a powerful and mature backside attack, the word creative still comes to mind when he surfs anywhere. This is a wave reader. And with his extensive Mentawai experience, Kalani, fresh from his close second at the recent gromsearch, has a bright future waiting for him in not only the surf, but in the industry as well”. Photography by Connor Flanagan
BOY POWER: Micah Smith, 13 yrs
Poised, keen, confident Training ground: Canggu Surftime call: “We have had our eye on Micah Smith and his brother for years and it is so refreshing to see Micah Smith come into his own. With his healthy attitude toward surfing, life and the environment, this kid deserves a special award of some kind. His surfing, committed and exciting, reflects a life already being well lived. Micah Smith is a success, and we are sure he will have many more in the future”. Photography by Antonio Vargas
The audaciousness of a woman, swimming out into giant Waimea Bay during the Eddie Aikau contest with nothing but a pair of fins and her water housing is testament to the unbelievable commitment Ella Boyd has to her photography. “I was looking for a different perspective, one that would be like from a guy that had lost his board”. Think about the courage that would take, boys.
IMPACT ZONE: ELLA BOYD IS IN HARMS WAY
Who on earth swims out at Waimea Bay to get close-ups? Ella Boyd, swimming and shooting on the edge of madness, captures an image that explains all the drama you need to know about Waimea, giving “bringing it back alive”a whole new meaning.
Photographer Ella Boyd recently arrived in Sumatra fresh from her photography campaign at Waimea Bay. It was in Hawaii where she swam out with her housing with no Jet Ski assist, in order to get what she called “The perspective of Waimea on a big day from someone who has lost their board”. Dangerous, yes. Foolish? Perhaps. Courageous? Certainly. When Ella heard we were looking for her to talk about her Waimea adventure, she was already on to her next with Nathan Florence. Ella took the time send us this latest dispatch from the road: Nathan Florence, placing his GoPro in his mouth, calmly positions himself deeper. One wave rolls through. He passes it up. Seconds later, a bigger, hollower beast. Nathan, grinning, takes off, right hand stroking the face of the towering face. He rides deeper and smoother than I’ve ever seen someone surf at this secret spot. Must be that Hawaii in him. He reappears from the pit, kicking out inches away from my head and hopping belly first onto his board in one fluid motion. He lets out a little hoot of joy. “It’s pretty out here today, isn’t it?” I smile. I just want to sink into this moment. I didn’t know it then, but that session was the end of Nathan’s trip, and of my experience chasing this fickle and mesmerizing wave. I had to go in, sunbaked and starving. Nathan was still sitting in the line-up, the reef shelf poking its nasty head out. It took a half hour to walk in over that low tide reef. Later, Nathan told me, casually, he “tweaked his elbow” pretty bad. That was an understatement. He’d broke the nose off his board with elbow and it had cut deep. He went to the emergency room to get stitches. Turns out fiberglass was embedded deep in his arm too. The cut infected immediately. Nathan had to get home. The wave had, once again, claimed a victim. It doesn’t care who you are. But it had given all of us who found it moments you live your life for. Book a flight from Hawaii for. Scooter for hours in the pouring rain for. Break boards for. Break bones for. I had gotten lost chasing the perfection that was this Sumatran wave. And when I left, it felt like a book clapped shut in my palms. But in that ending was the beginning of something else, what keeps every surfer travelling. That new chapter ahead, the challenge of finding another wave. And bringing it back alive.
“I wanted to capture what it was like to be front row on the beach on a big day at the bay when it loads up during a big set,” Says Ella “it’s not the greatest view of the action, but you will never forget the power that is coming to get you”.
“I think this image says it all from a swimmers perspective. The rescue ski on stand by, the photographer capturing the moment, the guy barely making it over the top praying the next one isn’t bigger, and the heroism of a Waimea Bay drop. I paid the price though, this one landed right on my head. But later, I still got in on my own”.
Life
LIFE STORIES:
A Damea Dorsey Portfolio
Suspension
Wall
Skin
Within
Together
Freedom
POWER FLOW DESIRE TRIUMPH
Feeling his way through that first wave of the day and calling on his Mentawai experience at such hell breaks as Kandui lefts, Dylan Wilcoxen powers through the early morning light at Padang Padang. Different than at the end of the day, surfing at dawn will always bring out the hope of the great things the day will bring. Photography by Liquid Barrel
POWER FLOW DESIRE TRIUMPH
Once again, Tai Graham finds himself mastering a wave in the wild. Perennially one of the best surfers this island has ever produced, Tai is forever a modern adventurer, seeking the delicious possibilities of the unknown, the unridden, the untamed, and making them his own. Photography by Putu Juliartha
POWER FLOW DESIRE TRIUMPH
Taking a break from the dark hollows of our eastside, bone breaking barrels, Blerong Dharmayasa blasts out of one of our playful beachbreaks. Never forget, we don’t stop playing because we get old, we get old because we stop playing. Photography by Thiago Okazuka
In Loving memory of “Biawak” Febriansyah. 1999-2023
Photography by Liquid Barrel
FASHION
FASHION
INFO PRODUCT
CONTEST
Dwi Putrawan
This year’s Single fin classic has come to an end. To say we scored would be an understatement with the ocean delivering perfect 8-10 ft surf. With a mix of the world’s best tube riders invited, the level of surfing was incredible. With a fairytale ending for Arpad Leclere taking out the high flying men’s final surrounded by international stars Bruno Santos, Creed McTaggart, Taro Watanabe and Kobe Hughes. The event paved out an iconic masters final with Surfing royalty Jim Banks securing his first single fin world title. All ages were here with the junior men baring their teeth and putting on a high performance clinic for the spectators. Teddy Bille pocketed two 10 point rides, proving himself unbeatable and reassuring the Uluwatu community that there is no shortage of talent in the years to come. One of the event highlights was the women’s division. 8-10 ft perfection would test anyone’s nervous system and all the women took it on with Spain’s own Maria Riera charging her way to the win. This year will go down in the books across all aspects and proved its rightful place in the pantheon of Indonesia’s greatest surf contests. Big thanks to Single Fin, Kura Kura and Billabong for their support and we all look forward to hosting next year’s event and the crowning the next single fin world champions. Don’t miss it!
Kobe Hughes
Benny Mabo
CONTEST
Made Joi
Agus Frimanto
Made Diki Mahendra
Set against the backdrop of Atlas Beach, the Atlas/Vissla airshow surfing contest showcased the incredible skill of surfers from around Bali. 24 Surfers managed to executing jaw-dropping aerial maneuvers that pushed the boundaries of what’s possible.
of camaraderie that transcends the competitive arena. Spectators can expect a display of creativity and courage as surfers showcase their unique styles, creating a visual symphony of athleticism and artistry.
But it’s not just about the competition, it’s a celebration of the surfing community. From seasoned professionals to emerging talents, this event welcomes surfers of all levels, fostering a sense
The airshow surfing contest at Atlas Beach Club is not just a competition, it’s a celebration of the surf culture and a reminder of our responsibility to protect the oceans we love.
CONTEST
Dylan Wilcoxen
Aditya Somiya
Paris Nalendra
Darma Wisesa
The annual Rip Curl GromSearch turned 18 this year and hundreds of ripping young surfers from around our nation packed Halfway Kuta Beach to compete in its most awaited event presented by Samudera Indonesia. And Rip Curl and Samudera Indonesia are committed to support surf development of the U-16 winners with the main prize of a all expenses paid High Performance Coaching Camp by Surfing Australia. Dylan Wilcoxen from Under 16 division put on a show on the last minute of the final heat scoring 12,00 points claiming the win from his best friend Kalani Ryan, followed by Rajo Saputra and Taije Lijestrom. On the Under 16 girls division, Guo Jin Ting finish 1st place followed by Imari Hearn, Hanasuri Jabrik, and Jasmine Studer. As highest placing Indonesians, Both Dylan and Hanasuri scored the Aussie trip. “Everybody ripped” says Rip Curl’s Harrison Mann, “See you next year!”
IN LOVING MEMORY OF
JOSHUA ALAKAI MOLINA 1972-2023
CLOSE OUT
BLENDER BABE
(OR HOW I ENDED UP ON A SURF TRIP OF A LIFETIME) By Pete Matthews
“Now listen, I have two development projects on two islands, two ex wives, chewing on me, I got two savage pre-teen daughter pullin’ the plug on my bank account, I got a Covid lockdown, my business is in shambles, and now I have been invited on this hell trip to Mentawai with my surf star friends and I am in Sumbawa and I have to be at the Bali airport by dawn and because the Bima airport is shuttered I am going to have to drive to Bali with precious little time to spare for the whole goddamned thing. So I did what any self-respecting surfer would. I bet the farm. So now, my clock is ticking. I leave my kids here at Lakey Peak with their Indonesian. Grandma, you know, it takes a village and all that, I load up and start driving across Indonesia again to get back to my place on Bali. By myself, three islands, 24 hours straight, of hairy roads and sketchy ferries and I am all alone. Driving at night, which is suicide in some parts of Lombok, with bandits and downed power lines and crappy highways and giant water buffalo eating in the middle of the road, all on blind curves, of course, their favorite. You know, plow into one of those damn things and ain’t no insurance on earth is gonna help. Then Dino calls from Taiwan, or wherever the hell he is now, he’s calmed down and he says…How good does it feel, Pete? How good? To get in your van and drive all night just to make a surf trip? To get in that car with all your boards and turn the key and hit the gas and drive all night and listen to that music and you are going on a surf trip, man. Huh? Huh? How good is it? Pretty good, huh? He was right. I did feel good. I mean, we’re all people that do surf trips as a way of life, as a living, a lifestyle. It was like, with Covid, it’s like I’d forgotten how cool everything around surfing is. So alright. Stoked, I will never forget that feeling. I remember Dino rallying me, then getting off the phone and I was looking at the highway and driving to the Lombok Ferry and the moon was out and, well, you get it, sure. So I pulled the drive, door to door, in 20 hours. Someone write that down, man, that’s a record. Now I get back to my home in Bali, which I had abandoned for six months. Something you should never do in Indonesia, cuz the jungle eats houses here. And some pregnant dog had moved in to my bedroom and my swimming pool looked like an African watering hole, I mean, it’s just a different world then when I left, so now, with very little time to spare, Dino is tellin’me I
gotta find a glass blender? So the crew can make their bullet coffees. A what? For what? So I drive around looking for one of these things…nothing…and I am thinking of breaking into a restaurant, and finally it hits me. My dating app. That’s the best source for all things. So I go on my dating app and I put out an APB for any chick that has a glass blender. God knows what they all thought, but these are modern times, so what the hell. Anyway, I swear to God, desperate measures, man. And so remember I haven’t seen a naked woman in six months and this was gonna take some game. So I got a ping and she was hot and she’s all, in a sexy voice…yeah, I gotta glass blender, I got one right here. God, I was so relieved, but then I thought, oh shit, I gotta go through with this, man. So Blender Babe was making it happen, but I still had her send me a photo of the blender, just to make sure. So Blender Babe says ok…you want this blender? You gotta take me to a nice dinner right now. Oh Jesus… Now I’m dealing with the long drive jitters, sleep deprivation and Blender Babe. I gotta make shit happen. Matter of fact, I gotta make a few things happen, if you know what I mean. Here I am, trying to make a dawn flight to Jakarta with Dino, Griffin, Crosby, Ian Crane and Luke Davis and the swell is on the way and the Bali airport is rumored to be shutting down at noon. It’s literally my last chance to meet up with the boys and I am the one that got everyone to do this shit in the first place… but first…first I gotta go on a hot date, with Blender Babe. Then I gotta make a bunch of promises to her that I can’t possibly keep and then I gotta bail with the glass blender under my arm before the sun comes up. But, no choice… I had to take one for the boys, you know? So you can imagine when I met up with Kolohe and the boys in Jakarta and they said where the hell you been? And I said I had to go on a dating app and go on a hot date with Blender Babe just to get their God forsaken glass blender, so they can make their goddamn bullet coffees and that’s where the hell I’ve been. It’s 2023 and Dino still doesn’t believe me. (The full book, The Last Crusade, featuring Griffin Colapinto, Crosby Colapinto, Kolohe Andino, Ian Crane and Luke Davis available now at the White Monkey Surf Shop and Amazon.com)