STANDING UP, FALLING DOWN

The Australian pro surfer eating nasi ayam with me at the only restaurant on this island in the South Pacific tells me that it’s the best wave in the world. Andrew has surfed Fiji, Hawaii, Bali, Costa Rica, Mentawai, all the big waves, all the best spots. None compare, he believes, to “The Peak.”

When the swells are right, sometime between November and February, The Peak is surfing nirvana. A 10 foot left and right-hander that breaks half a kilometer offshore, far but not too far to paddle out to. Long glassy barrels. Perfect set after perfect set.

There are 9 people in the world who know where in the South Pacific you can find The Peak. I am one of them. I don’t surf.

Which is probably why I was a non-threatening presence to Andrew, the Irishman, and the 3 Frenchmen that had somehow deciphered the code and made their way to this island devoid of internet, largely devoid even of cell phone reception. Since we are talking about what was not there I should also mention running water, flushing toilets, a doctor, a supermarket, and anything resembling banana pancakes.

There was however plenty of fresh jungle water (don’t drink it, the malaria-infested mosquitos have been laying eggs in it and you don’t want those hatching in your stomach), plenty of places in nature to do your business, a handful of witch doctors, and most houses were selling a couple vegetables out front so you could always find something to eat with rice for dinner. You could stay in a stilt house on the beach right in front of The Peak – the locals happy to let you sleep on their wood floor for 4 USD a night (3 meals included).

The casual surfer does not make the trip to The Peak. Coming from Hong Kong for me it was 15 hours in the air with multiple stops on the way. I went along as wingman, shark lookout, and all around ne’er do well while the boys surfed wave after wave after wave. All surfing, all day.

There is of course more than just that one perfect wave. The ocean surrounding the island is rich with waves, perhaps some that haven’t even been discovered yet. 62, Mikala Point, Concrete Swells, Illusion (looks like the perfect barrel, surf it and you’ll end up in surgery because of the shallow reef).

I sat on the beach and watched the surfing. It was something like a seat at my own personal Triple Crown.

When I write that I “watched the surfing,” what I really mean is that I “watched the surfers.”

Surfing always seems to start the same. The surfer stands on the beach looking out at the waves. Sometimes for a very long time. Always very still. I’m not sure what is going through their minds then but I imagine it is something like “what have I been given today?”

As obvious as it sounds it perhaps bears saying that you don’t decide anything if you are surfer, except what kind of surfboard you are going to use.

Everything else is up to the ocean.

“What has the ocean given me today?” I imagine them thinking, “And how will I work with that?”

The island is infested with malaria. You do not want to be outside between 5PM and 5AM unless you are wrapped head to toe in clothes and doused in mosquito repellant. Even then you are taking your chances. Islanders insist that the mosquitos can bite through denim and that even jeans offer weak protection.

How will I work with that?

Malaria may be the least of your worries. Dengue fever of course. And then other diseases that don’t seem to have English names. Long words in Bahasa that sound like things you really really really do not want to get.

How will I work with that?

Oh yes, and there are sharks. This isn’t well-manicured beach with shark net. This is an oceanfront that has been exactly the same as it is now for the past howevermanythousands of years.

How will I work with that?

All of us are always in the middle of something. One could assert that we are always working with what we’ve been given, like it or not.

Some of us may be ultimately resistant to what we’ve been given. Some of us may welcome it. Some of us are not resistant nor are we welcoming; we are simply working with what we’ve been given in the best way that we know how.

Watching the surfers work with the weather and the tides, I was reminded of the Japanese proverb, “If you fall down 7 times, get up 8.”

Early on the fourth day Andrew broke one of his boards when The Peak came crashing down on it, and paddled in to sit with me.

“I had one really good wave today before my board broke,” he told me.

“How many good waves do you need for this to be a good trip?” I asked him.

He was quiet for a long time as his eyes scanned the horizon, watching the others surf.

“Just one,” he said finally. “Just one good wave.”

Standing up. Falling down. Repeat, ad infinitum.

Questions for self-reflection:

What have I been given today?

How will I work with that?