Surf trip 2.0 * andalu * National (wave) field trip month * Go on a (surf) trip month
don't worry, they have treehouses to sleep in for if and when the real thing comes out @night * Bobby's Surf Camp @Gland, Sumatra
If you need to get outta town for a surf ‘round this time of year, ‘tis usually no longer a surf trip for just a week or coupla few, but rather more like a getaway, and for awhile at that. And oft ‘tis not just the surf we’re after, but the exposure to other cultures, if not otherworlds. The quintessential getaway comes by way of Tamarin Bay on Mauritius, or what was famously aka the Forgotten Island of Santosha. Or perhaps you’d rather take your chances up in Alaska and you decide to enter the Montague Island surf, hunt and fish contest. Or if you’re the same guy and your surf shop biz is going south, and perhaps you’re feelin’ that a guest cameo as a Tavarua boat captain doesn’t sound all bad, and likely suits you well and good enough, and for the foreseeable future at that. Or another yet who was holdin’ down fair dinkum as a North Shore lifeguard, and up and decides to go work at a surf camp resort in Samoa.
morning boatman duties.... take the guests out surfing * Ig
kava kava.... served Fijian style
Whatever the case, and however newfangled the plot may conspire as, chances are it’s not your time to look the gift horse of a trip of a lifetime in the mouth. And hopefully yours isn’t as far fetched as the non local Abalonians, who attempted to make an island out of Cortes Banks, in order to exploit their hoped to be seafood empire. Perhaps you more practically aspire to go ‘round the world, as our one friend Michael Garbett did, hiring African sharpshooters to keep an eye out for the sharks, and while he surfed the local point there. He toured Oz by way of used station wagon sleepovers, and actually ended up marrying a Down Under Aussie. Maybe you’ll be “fortunate” enough to catch a glimpse of a great white breaching at Jeffreys, or “better” yet in person free diving outside Mokuleia, and having to fight off not just the local hammerhead, but a bronzer (whaler) shark as well, just after that and for good measure.
Garb circumambulating Oz with "camper" wagon in tow * Australia
Whatever your version of fantasy island is, chances are you are well served by bringing duct tape, tea tree oil, fishing line and a bottle or coupla few of Avon’s Skin So Soft (i.e. for the mozzies left for dead like cherry blossoms on the Hotel La Fonda walls). Maybe I’ll stayover at Jorge’s house at Scorpion Bay, or be like Tom Wegener and up and move to Oz from LA and end up hanging my hat on the long lost art of shaping the once upon a time alaia boards. Or you’re a big wave surfer from NorCal named Robin who opts instead to spend the next six weeks in the Amazon with the local shamans and the plants, and to return home the 25 pounds lighter for it. And best yet, what if we all up and left for the “endless summer” like the Greenland Vikings, and made our way to the true down under, our hollow earth.
“Indecision (breeds misfortune and) brings its own delays. Days are lost lamenting over lost days. Are you in earnest ?? Seize this very minute, as…. Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth that ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man nor woman could have dreamt would have come his or her way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.” - Goethe
andalu * legend of winds * surfer tarot
blue pipe by Maritmo
Surfing fables share of a surf fantasy Shangri-La that is “emblematic of perfection” to us as surfers. The “surfer of fortune” soon comes, drawn by his lust, with the cosmic surfer more a seeker of what may be called a “monastic surf paradise.” More recently, surf discovery has turned into surf camps, which wherever the case, “all your crap just blows out over your back…. the screaming parents, the teachers, the police, the priests, the politicians, and especially the kneeboarders, windsurfers, and kayakers.”
Away from our stress and confusion, our clouds drift off and our vision clears, and we come upon our Forgotten Island within. “Reunion with self” is intrinsic to these Fortunate Isles. Time alone is well spent along the enchanted shores of our magic island. Surrounded by pods of dolphins, with a “quiet and properly paced passage of time,” our solitary wanderer welcomes the mystical and cultivates her aesthetic within. The silence lends itself to an expanded awareness and deeper connection with our “green goddess” as hostess, who begins to “grow” us anew towards a greater “univisceral consciousness.” As sanctuary, our verdant dreamland is a healing place of purity. There is chance of metamorphosis here by way of softening, and an “oxygenating.” In our quest for a “near nirvana” experience we enlist an emotional fortitude, in that “the most remote experience brings forth the deepest intimacy with life,” and knowing that “the most out of touch destination brings us the closest, and most in touch,” with the “darkness like chocolate,” of our soul. We are left with the question, “to be real, or not to be real?”
Andalu is “symbolic signpost unto the Unknown.” Like the ethereal island of Avalon, we’re not sure if it’s “make believe or not.” At rest in the garden of Eden, we know the “island is naturally healing,” and imagine a “New Polynesia,” where we get a “taste of what was.” It’s “so removed, it’s not real.” But it is. With no hurries, and no worries, our luscious wonderland is a beachcomber’s haven, with real grass shacks and palm frond tiki huts to call home, for the duration of our hiatus. Our halcyon days are a timely reprieve and filled with sea dreams and flower power, as we grow a “papaya consciousness.” Not hunkered down, there is a wild freedom to our “dreamtime” and life at large within our ideal idyll, an archipelago replete with magic afoot in all four directions. To the makai side there are undines and sirens for water spirits, with mauka side hiding air spirit sylphs and fairies. Leeward side we know of earth spirit elves and gnomes, with windward side home to the symbolic tiger about, our trusted animal totem alongside us as shamanic “defender from chaos within,” and on our sacred journey of “soul retrieval.”
We see the bigger picture as we step into the Unknown, and soon ask, “paradise or paradox?” Easter Island is austere and formidable, and we seem to be coming down with “rock fever,” with gale more storm than refreshing or invigorating. We can’t handle detachment nor deportment, as our exile mutates into a surf asylum. We again ask, “what are we running or hiding from?” Overthinking muddles our plans for the future, as the ephemeral dream leaves us, and the island, vulnerable to mass “surferism.” Discovery invites ruin, as exploitation and an international imperialism is answer to our inconvenience. Technology soon enslaves, as the subsequent economic inflation runs the original locals into slave labor.
deep jungle by Remi Bertoche * tryptiche
Be farsighted. Get away from it all. Retreat. The location may serve you well. Regain your perspective from afar. Put an end to separation and fear. Forge bonds of intimacy with our ocean and earth, with others, and with yourself. Fall into a rhythm. Reunite with All of Life, and yourself. You can always refer back to your life experience. Author your own story about the “unbearable lightness of being.” The experiences you need will come to you. Go native. Surprise yourself. Build a treehouse. See unencumbered. Erect your own tiki hut and bamboo temples. Live in harmony with other creatures. As truth is reflective of nature, plant life within, and without, and know her as the keystone for regeneration. Let your emotions and feelings ooze out. Let things swirl about. Gain inspiration and new reference points. Relate anew upon return. Eliminate excesses and anything superfluous. See with a “wide angle lens.” Be omnipresent. A fairytale ending is possible. Watch out for Lady Luck, because “home is where the heart is,” and chances are that she’ll be waiting for you there. If you are strong, and have courage enough to let go, the “message in a bottle” will come to you, and “we will all be together again.”