Batukaras – 3rd to 12th August

So elatedly and belatedly I left the sprawling metropolis of Jakarta, it was time to find somewhere quieter. Ever since Phuket, and my first feel of a wave propelling me on a solid platform through the water, I was desperate to get back out there and give surfing another go.

But we rejoin the adventure as usual in transit. I’d missed my evening bus (I underestimated the size and traffic of Jakarta, and my driver overestimated his navigational abilities) but managed to swap onto the 6.30 am bus. There were no direct bus to my destination, and in fact even from my next stop there was no direct connection. 

I arrived in Bandung (a fairly major city in central Java) and began walking from bus agency to bus agency searching for someone offering my onward connection. After about five failed attempts I decided to just go to the main bus station and wing it. This turned out excellently. I hopped off the Grab, and this guy walked out of the bus station waving for me to come to him with great urgency. Immediately alarm bells were ringing in my head – he wants to overcharge me for something here. But that wasn’t the case. Somehow he knew where I was going, and ushered me onto the bus and assuring me I would buy my ticket from the driver. This next lengthy bus took me to Pangandaran (the bus was fairly empty and I took all six rear seats and had a lovely sleep), from there I took another 1hr grab to my hostel in the village of Batu Karas. An hour on the back of a bike isn’t great (depending on the bike) but with luggage its brutal, especially on the old butt.

To my surprise the ojek (bike taxi) took me across a very narrow steel bridge spanning a beautiful river – I would have assumed it was for pedestrians but it turned out to actually be a toll bridge. Thankfully it was a mere 20p a pop. Once across we entered Batukaras, a (I suspect) very typical small fishing village on the south coast of Java. Buildings were a mix of brick and bamboo tucked into the surrounding tropical foliage. The main very large beach was a very active fishing port, with locals deliberately running ashore and communally carrying the boats up the beach by the out-rigging. Tucked away neighbouring the fishing beach was the surfing beach, or general pleasure beach really.

My hostel was a bamboo structure focused around a communal kitchen living room with two comfy hammocks, two uncomfortable sunbeds and a large table / bench set up. Off the main room you could find the dorm (singular) and the fairly open air bathrooms. The communal room opened out directly onto the rice paddy behind and light poured in through the open side and through the roof… 

When I arrived I was greeted by a guest who said the hostel guy might be back soon. I very happily sat in the hammock as I waited. As I was planning on staying for a little while, when the guy did return, I decided to negotiate a little bit – I ended up on the phone with the owner and got a 30% discount on the assumption I would stay a week.

When I arrived there were two other guests, both of whom checked out the following day. So I ended up with a whole private hostel which I kinda loved.

My first full day I was pretty unwell, so didn’t do much. But the day after that it was time to test the swell.

Over the next few days I settled into another stunning routine. I’d start the mornings early by making some porridge that I’d bought from the local shop, and then I wandered 15/20 minutes to the surfing beach for around 6.30am. I’d pay my daily board rental and pick up a rashy (having learnt my lesson about nip friction). I’d surf for a couple of hours then stop for a cuppa, which was 50p a pop (£1 with milk so it was black for me!). Then heading back out for a typically shorter round two. Around 11 I’d head back to the hostel for second breakfast (PB on toast) and then chill at the hostel, grab some lunch, before heading back to the beach for an afternoon surf. Normally soaking in the sunset while surfing the final bit of the day away. 

Well… I say ‘surf’ as I spent the first four or five days just getting absolutely battered by waves. Whenever I would return to the hostel, Esa (the hostel guy) would optimistically ask me if I’d caught any waves. To which I’d say ‘not really, but a few waves caught me.’

This beach might be the best place to learn to surf in the world – at least the best I’ve ever seen. It’s a point break which is always a good start – where the waves break on the bay’s point before then travelling along (rather than towards) the beach. This meant a good surfer could catch the wave at the point, and then ride it down for over a minute until you dive off at the other end of the bay (or hit the rocks I guess). This is fantastic for surfers, as riding a wave for that long is rare and instead of paddling back out through the waves, you just grab your board and walk along the beach back to the point and do it all again.

I opted not to take lessons and learn through trial and error, or in this case trials and errors. Over the first couple of days I figured out the catching waves bit – which is really hard – to get yourself in the right position, angled correctly and then paddling at the right time to ‘catch’ the wave rather than floating over or having it break on you. Oh and of course my paddling technique improved over this time too. Once I had a basic ability at that, my focus was then on standing up. And by the end of my time at Batu Karus I could stand up fairly reliably. I may fall off moments after but I was up. Where I was longboarding the next step after standing up is to take a step or two forward on the board to gain some speed – my first few attempts at this resulted in me sprinting off the front of the board. And, the whole turning malarkey is still a bit beyond me but we made some progress with this too.

After two days in my private hostel I came back to find two girls (Gabi and Riri), one in a hammock laughing and the other atop a giant pink inflatable flamingo. I assumed they were guests but it turned out they were friends of Esa who used the hostel to chill at. We all became quite good friends during my time in the hostel. They’d both quit their jobs and were just living off their savings for a bit – surfing and not doing much. Re the flamingo it turned out they had been at a pool party and offered to look after the flamingo for a while – which they now couldn’t work out how to deflate (to this day I’m not entirely sure how they got it in the hostel). I sorted that for them – a simple unscrewing of the valves (and don’t ask me why i’m an expert with inflatables).

Finally my private hostel was over, and two guests did check in. I thought I recognised them, but couldn’t place them. Until it hit me and I asked if they were just in Jakarta at the hostel I was staying at. Which they were. And it was the two guys from Kingston/Surrey of all people. So we (Michael, Aiden and me) ended up grabbing some dinner that night. Then the following days we would all surf together etc.

It was really nice to have some friends in the water. I’d met a few people already but more on nodding terms. One dinner I was telling them about my best of 101 pool cup in Thailand with Mase and they said they’d met this guy in Jakarta (Bailey) who had just finished a best of 21 pool game with some mad guy in the hostel. Which, somewhat obviously readers, was me. Off the top of my head I think I lost that one too.

One morning we’d just strapped our boards to our ankles and were walking to the sea for the first session of the day. With the wind blowing in his blonde curly hair, Aiden calmly proclaims ‘surfs up’ and it was one of the coolest things I’d ever heard. I just didn’t see it coming – and indeed the surf was up.

So we had the two boys, the two local girls, and I had also become good friends with a german school teacher in the water. She was also learning to surf but way ahead of me. The final companion of Batu Karus was Frog.

Frog aka Steve, was this older guy I’d met in the water. He wore a red long sleeve fishing tee-shirt and straw type hat (while surfing). And he was phenomenal. He’d catch every wave he went for and just made it look effortless taking the waves right down the beach. Turning up and down the the wave’s face, and pumping with ease (to build more speed).

Aiden and I were having a cuppa when Steve came out of the water too. I invited him to join us, and we spent a couple of hours drinking tea / coffee chatting shit and joking around, which was really lovely. As the days went by the morning tea breaks became longer and longer, with various friends joining and leaving.

Where we were all staying in this little village you’d end up bumping into everyone everywhere which was really sweet.

Frog and I would often meet at the Salt Rock Cafe for brunch (which brought my breakfasts up to three). A quick aside, if anyone in the cafe saw me on my way passed, they would tell me if they had avocados or how long it would be until they were ripe – I guess I had a bit of a reputation. Frog had all sorts of stories, from his time on Bali in the 70s (he’s Aussie obviously) to his very unprofitable career / dabble trading currencies. But he seemed to have it figured out with his current situation. In the Aussie summer he would live in Aus, cutting old people’s grass and chatting to them, then come winter he would rent his house out and live abroad off the rent.

Our whole group had a couple of lovely dinners while we were there too. It was really handy having the girls as they had the local knowledge and they both had a scooter. We’d end up with six of us on their two scooters most nights. While I was chatting to Gabi it turned out she was working an admin job for the local airline earning $75 per month… So that night I bought them both dinner, out of a significant amount of travellers guilt. For the three of us it was less than a fiver (and I had two meals and a juice!)

One night we had two more girls arrive, French Candians. That evening,  they teamed up with Gabi and Riri to cook us all dinner (for £2.50 a head I might add). The locals led the show, and the Candians and I just strictly did what was instructed. We cooked up a heap of rice; fried some chicken, tempeh and tofu; and cooked a pan of veggies. Gabi then told me to come with her to get something from outside. I’d learnt not to ask questions so followed – she hands me a knife and points at a banana leaf. So I chop the leaf and she gets me to do another one.

I carry both of these huge leafs back into the kitchen. She takes one and wets it under the tap on both sides before holding it above the gas stove – ‘sterilising’ it. And because of the water it didn’t catch fire which was a plus. She repeated with the second leaf and laid them out along the middle of the table. You may be able to see where this is going, but her and Riri then layed a line of rice down the middle of the leaves before topping with the tofu, tempeh and a sauce. It was delicious and a lovely hostel family meal type affair.

Getting towards the end of my stay two friends of the english lads turned up. Thankfully and finally I was no longer the worst surfer! But as Frog said – the best surfer is the one having the most fun.

In the end I stayed for 10 days. I would have stayed more but as I said before I was in a rush. I had booked my next flight and only had about nine days to get to the next island across (Bali) for the airport.

My bus was at 6am from the local town about an hour away. Instead of getting a motorbike taxi, Riri offered me a lift. Which I really didn’t want to accept as she needed to pick me up at 5, but she insisted and I was happy to pay her and not a taxi driver.

I said goodbye and that was the end of my introduction to surfing. A beautiful 10 day stay in a small fishing village on the south coast of Java. Sometimes life really comes together.