Sayonara Siargao

Today is the last day in Siargao. Time flies. I take a ferry tomorrow am to nearby Surigao. From there, a flight and overnight to Hong Kong, then to Bali the next day. I leave here a poorer man in some ways (1 pair board shorts, stolen off porch; 1 HD surf cam, destroyed by water damage due to user stupidity) but way richer on the whole.

I'm gong to miss my treehouse bungalow. if you ever make it to Patrick's, I would request it. So sweet. Perched right over the water, at high tide you can hear the waves lapping underneath the floor boards.


And this sunrise was shot from the porch this morning. Not a bad way to wake up and get psyched for bacon.


It's been quiet the last few days. After badly spraining my foot on a bungled take off, I've been icing, resting, playing uke and working on ClassMonkeys. The foot should be back in action for Bali.

The consolation was I had my best session of the trip (or ever) when I got injured, and the surf has faded since then. Fast, fun overhead sets. Just Ryan and I, joined by a few locals during part of the session. We caught the last sets as the sun went down. The water looked like someone took all those cool, weird colors in the giant Crayola boxes and melted onto the ocean surface. We hardly said a word on the boat ride back. Ryan eventually said something like "This is one of those sessions you always remember." Yup.

I never did get to surf Cloud 9 but after watching the scene there don't regret that one bit. Crowd 9 indeed.

Time to go jump on a boat, try some snorkelling. Maybe a little stand up paddling though that might mean I have to get all Karate Kid on the one leg. We'll see.

3 Days of Bliss

Since my last post, the surf has been on. We've been doing 2 sessions daily and I'm exhausted.

We had some fun sessions at a different outer reef break, about 30 minutes off the island . It was a nice point break, which meant you could anchor the boat right next to the break (where Alex got this sequence of me and the Avocado). There was also a nice channel on either side of the wave so you didn't have to paddle through the oncoming waves if it got too big. The first day we went there it was shocking--there were actually 10-12 other people in the water. The first time that's happened. Needless to say we were outraged at this inconvenience. There were a few locals who were totally cool, and the rest were tourists who weren't very good surfers. They were mostly just dangerous as they'd drop in without looking and then lie around on the inside after getting pummeled, boards floating loose. But they all left about halfway through our session and then we had it all to ourselves.

The swell really picked up last night. For our evening session, Tal, Tedo and I headed back to the reef that has been our "home" break (called Cemetaries, as it's off the beach from the local burial grounds). We paddled out and the sets were steady overhead and a half and a few bigger. It was about as big as it gets for me to be able to be out there.

Though we'd probably surfed here 7 or 8 times before, we discovered that this particular reef is really difficult when it gets big. There aren't any good channels through which you can paddle out, so you needed to make it through several layers of breaking surf to get to the (empty) lineup. Pretty much out of gas, I was vaguely surprised I made it out at all. I figured I might not be so lucky a second time, so I took my time and waited for a good one, dropped into a sparkling emerald wall and got a long, fast ride. I should have kicked out sooner but took it as far as I could. I then took a 15 minute beating trying to get back out before I gave up and paddled back to the boat. It would have been nice to catch one more but having the big stuff arrive at the end of 3 days of double sessions was bad timing. My neck, shoulders and back were marinating in lactic acid. I had that empty gas tank feeling that I associate with words like "cycling," "Noel, "Alps," and "Galibier."

It was Tal and Alex's last night, so we left the resort and went to a restaurant run by 2 German ex pats (with a Brazilian couple that just arrived and had been on the boat with us all day). After a long day surfing and island hopping, we were all exhausted. It was Sunday so there no transport around and we hoofed it home under a blanket of stars. It was probably only a 15-20 minute walk but I think we were all so tired it felt a lot longer.

Surf is supposed to be pumping the rest of the week. I'm taking the day off to recover from trying to keep up with Tal the Israeli Energizer Bunny. I'll miss having Tal to push my surfing (and Alex was a total gem too), but we're planning to hook up in New Zealand, where he is going now and I will be after Bali. Safe travels guys!

Jeff, This One’s For You

Musser complained about the lack of surfing exploits in the blog. If there was no surf again, today was going to be the day I chronicled the rampant phenomenon of the 50 year old male tourists and their young Philippino girlfriends (and/or lady boys), but that’s going to have to wait.

Happily, the ocean gave me something to write about today.

Tal and I agreed last night to get up at 5am to go to Cloud Nine in a search for surf. The spot is a world famous wave. It was featured in “Endless Summer,” is the site of a surf competition etc. etc. A right short right hander, it’s got a big open barrel. It’s also called “Crowd Nine” because it’s always got thirty people on it; and there is really only one take off spot. I wasn’t even planning on trying this wave because I’m here to avoid crowds. But this little working anywhere else, we’ll give it a shot and see if we can beat the people with a dawn patrol.

We load two boards on a motorcycle and drive 15 minutes down one of the worst roads on the island, which is saying something. We get there and there it is, the famous wave. Five or six feet of dumping, close out mush. Not one person in the water and for good reason.

We go back, eat breakfast and decide to take a boat out to the reef—there is a definitely something breaking out there. We can hear it. On the way out, we see one a few flying fish break the surface (a pretty common sight, and in fact, one launched into my thigh last week) but this time we see what’s chasing them—a big barracuda or a wahoo, leaping out of the water 4 or 5 times after its prey.

We have our own prey in sight—finally, after days of drought, we can see the low tide peelers breaking fast out on the reef. Tal and I paddle out with one of the local kids, Tedo. He is maybe 15 years old, 130 pounds wet and shreds. Tal is 25, an ex-Israeli Navy Seal, is a sick, charging surfer who rides a potato chip of a board, catches anything he wants, and then rips on it. And then there’s me.

And that’s it. And waves. Lovely, glassy, turquoise waves, walling up with some nice open shoulders. I’m on my new 7’8” hybrid board (which Greg B. dubbed “The Avocado”). I had a lousy session on it yesterday (in crap waves) but I’ve only been out on it a handful of times and I’m starting to get a feel for it. It paddles slower than my longer boards and requires a lot more strength. I’m still getting used to the timing and later take-offs required (not to mention the steep wave faces that are on tap today). While I bungle a few waves and catch a rail a few times, I also catch a bunch of fun ones. My best wave of the session is head high. I fly down the line trailing a hand in the face, catch an inside section, then see it walling up to close out ahead of me. I jam down into the trough of the wave and fly out of a hard bottom turn over the lip… I’m airborne for a few seconds, long enough to wonder if there is enough water between me and the reef (there is!). So fun… not something I’ve ever experienced on a long board which can’t really make a maneuver like that.

We have a good 90 minutes of super fun, solid surf. Then a rain squall comes in and the ocean turns super choppy, game over. Which is fine. When you can catch wave after wave with no competition you don’t really need much longer than that to get worked and ready for lunch

It was so good, we decide to do a double session. We push the boat out and Ryan tries to start the engine. Around 40 times. No go. By now, we’ve drifted hundreds of yards out and down the beach, so we have to pole our way back to shore. Then the real show begins. The restaurant staff are eating on the patio as we pole our way home. They are all cracking up and one yells “Big waves?” Then a progression of local boatmen get on to try to start the engine. No go. At one point everyone starts chanting the name of one guy named something like “Doh Gung” who steps aboard our little craft with great authority. Nope.

Anyway, 45 minutes later, we have a new boat, load the gear and we’re off. Conditions are even better. It is a sick session. A few 8 foot waves roll through which none of us are ever in position to get but it is a solid 5-6 foot on the sets. I finally really started feeling natural on the Avocado and getting more aggressive with wave selection. It is speedy and can really cut some sharp turns. What a blast. I also discovered that despite its length and relative thickness, with enough strength you can duck dive it (which was necessary more than once—I took a beating during the first session because I didn’t get the board deep enough when a big set caught us by surprise).

And what a scene… The sun is at our backs as we watch the horizon for the sets. In this light, the water is a deep emerald with translucent blue/green at the edge of the white water… paddling back out through the breakers after a wave is amazing… as the waves rear up, the deep emerald fades to a softer green and picks up the refracted colors and textures from the reef below, creating the illusion that reef is curling up over you. Tal, Ryan and I catch more waves than I can count. (Tal catches 5 waves for every one that Ryan and I catch, so I really can’t count his—oh, to be 25). I get another whee-fun aerial kick out. At one point an overhead beauty rolls through and Ryan and I both paddle for it… he is deeper in the wave to my right, so he has priority and I sit up… but he looks too deep… and sure enough, his face registers a “D’OHHHHHH” as the peak collapses on him. When he emerges from his beating, he says he fell to the bottom of the trough and then got sucked back up and over the falls…

Despite the increasing fatigue in the arms, shoulders and neck it’s too good to stop. We have drifted way down the reef and realize we have a long, long, long paddle back to the boat which is anchored on the other side of the reef. But we are so stoked we just keep catching one more wave, one more wave. I don’t know how long we were out. At least 2 and a half hours, maybe more. All I know is I limped back to the boat. After riding the white water as far as possible, there was still 300 yards to go to the boat. In my state, it felt like 300 miles.

But oh, everyone was smiling in the boat. No talking, too tired. But lots of smiling.

Tal, who had missed lunch because he was paddle-boarding with his girlfriend, got back and immediately ordered a plate of pasta Bolognese. And a plate of pasta carbonara. He’d been talking about it in the lineup for a while but I thought he was kidding. I had a huge fruit smoothie with mango, strawberries, banana, jungle honey, and yogurt. That and the stoke gave me energy to type this. Now I’m going to have a beer, eat dinner, and crash. And if the forecast is correct, tomorrow is supposed to be as good or better.

Desperate enough to try stand ups....

Surf continues to be at a 5 year record lameness for what is supposed to be peak season.

The other day the nice Israeli couple I've been hanging out with and I took a boat to Daku island across from where we are staying. There is a wave there that works with a bigger swell and Ryan, our Australian guide, said it might work with paddleboards. So we packed the boat with snorkeling gear, surfboards and stand up paddleboards--ready for anything. When we arrived, the wave was kind of mushy but we actually had a hilarious time on the standups in the soft waist to chest high waves that rolled through (Greg B: Don't hate the player, hate the game). It was like learning to surf again and we had some amusing collisions and frequent wipeouts.

After, we landed on the island, which had one of the most pristine "I'm in a postcard" beaches I've ever seen. There was a small village on the island, about 600 people. No electricity. Pigs, chickens, dried octopus. Very simple life.

Good On Ya, Ben

Yesterday, one of the guys I’ve been surfing with went back home to New Zealand. Ben cut quite a figure. A lean and rangy guy probably in his early 50s, his arms and shoulders were be-decked in Maori tattoos. A strong, charging surfer, he had intense blue eyes, and walked over the reef in his bare feet like it was grass. He reminded me of Wez in the Road Warrior.

Once I got to know Ben, he was a really gentle guy and not at all like Wez who, I believe it’s fair to argue, is one of the all-time bad guys in movie history .

If you consider the sum total of Wez’ actual dialogue consisted of a few sentences—and that much of his villainy was portrayed nonverbal ly—one must at least consider the notion that Vernon Wells was unfairly bypassed for a Best Supporting Actor nod (the 1981 Academy Award was won by John Gielgud in “Arthur.” Remember him? I don’t.)

From a brief bit of research, the sum total of his dialogue appears to be as follows (not including any yells, grunts etc.):

“Go, go, go”.

Context: Demonstrating his leadership skills, Wez is exhorting his team to leave their tents and pursue Mel’s character, who is driving through their camp ground in a semi and will likely crush the team if they do not follow Wez’ instructions. While clearly not a manager of, say, GE’s Jack Welch capabilities, the scene nonetheless communicates that Wez is a decisive and effective leader; especially given that one must assume he has had minimal formal leadership training.

“You!!!! You can run, but you can’t hide.”

Context: Wez communicates that he has become increasingly frustrated with Mel’s tendency to foil his various schemes. We have witnessed Wez direct and/or commit murder, rape, lethal headbutts and other violent behavior—and those victims hadn’t even pissed him off. Well's brilliant use of nonverbal techniques in conjunction with this line (angry pointing, growling and blazing, homicidal glares) communicates the words left out: that if Wez does catch Mel, things will turn grisly and in all likelihood there will be no sequel.

“No more talk! We go in! We kill! Kill! We kill 'em! They kill us, we kill them! Kill 'em! Kill 'em! Kill! Kill!”

Context: Wez’s boy lover has been killed by a steel boomerang to the skull. Heartbroken and beside himself with grief, he recommends to his boss (The Lord Humungous) a new course of action with regard the siege of a small community in which his gang is involved—i.e., terminating their existence with extreme prejudice.

While the harsh post-apocalyptic environment that is the movie’s backdrop is clearly not a fecund one for romance, Vernon Well’s convincing homicidal/maniacal response to the death of Wez ‘boy speaks volumes regarding their relationship. It is also a poignant reminder that love can take root in the most unlikely of places—and between the most unlikely of people. It’s hard for any viewer who has loved and lost not to relate to Wez’ anguish, though the impulse to respond by wiping out an entire community seems like an overly violent response through the lens of our own social conventions.

The character of Wez even more striking when considered against the backdrop of other top action movie villains. Scanning the top of American Film Institute’s “100 Years, 100 Villains”, one sees Darth Vader, The Shark (Jaws), Norman Bates, Nurse Ratchet, Hannibal Lector, The Terminator, etc. Common to all of these characters is a lack of a significant other and meaningful relationship—certainly nothing approximating love. Perhaps it is precisely the implacable nature of a foe that has no feelings for anyone or anything that contributes to their high-ranking villainy.

Not only does Wez have a partner, it is a young man; it is worth observing that one might have to go back as far as Achilles and Patroclus for such a vivid portrayal of male love amidst war in Western media and myth. Ironically, it is perhaps Wez’ ultimate humanity and vulnerability that helps to make him such an indelible part of celluloid history.

Or maybe I just really need this wind to stop blowing out the surf.

Incredible dawn this morning.


Quiet day so far, wind is up and has spoiled the surf. Spent the morning working on the start up and am going to probably laze the rest of the day away.

Still glowing from yesterday. Glassy smooth, long peeling waves in flawless aqua marine water. Best surf of the trip so far. Aleks was right about reefs over here. Razar sharp, as I discovered yesterday during our long hike and paddle over the low tide reef. Had a minor grazing in some shallows as we paddled out through the last section; I don't want a major grazing.


The boats brought in fresh mahi and mahi which I enjoyed for lunch, along with green beans and carrots in a ginger sauce and some rice. So good I had the same thing for dinner.

Surf is up

Ok, game on. I have been ensconced at the new spot on the island in the town of General Luna for a day and half.

The 2 hour drive was beautiful, through a lush green landscape—rice paddies, jagged hills, and mangrove swamps and tons and tons of palm trees. The occasional guy riding a water buffalo on the road. A map of where I was (Burgos) and where I am (GL): http://patrickonthebeach.com/maps/

This place is what I’ve been fantasizing about… relaxed, super hospitable, great food, simple but clean and functioning huts. I even have a fridge, such luxury. The place is right on the beach, with a set of hammocks, benches, and lounge areas placed strategically here and there for getting your chill on. That typhoon may have helped me out as they were fully booked—but some of their guests got stranded on another island and couldn’t make it. And a group of miners who were coming didn’t make it because their mine was attacked by insurgents. (What? Not on this island, no worries.)

This morning was the first day of real surfing of the trip. Around 7am after a big breakfast, 4 other guys staying here and I took a boat to the reef. We were the only ones out there on a stretch of reef with breaks for maybe a mile. We sat out there trading waves for 3 hours and the vibe was great, everyone yelling for each other when someone got a good one. I guess the surf has been unusually mellow here the last two weeks and everyone was fired up. One of the guys is from Hawaii and has been coming here at this time for the last five years. Shoulder high and occasional overhead waves were pouring in like a machine for the first 90 minutes we were out. It was heaven. Another boat came out with 5 folks, but that’s as “crowded” as it got. It started getting less consistent but I got all the waves I could handle. Everyone had been talking about an afternoon session but we were all knackered and that was that.

Being used to surfing in largely opaque, sandy water, I will say surfing over a reef feels very different. Because the water is so clear and there is all this topography and color and fish moving below you, when the sun is in the right place the illusion of flying in 3 dimensional space is created. Add that to no wet suit and a new lighter board I’m on… today I had this amazing experience of just feeling weightless and free. Maybe it’s also because I’m not in all day budget meetings.

Of course, the one down side of surfing over a reef is when you go for a bigger wave and you can see the water sucking up and draining out of the reef below you … it’s distracting. And I definitely pulled out of one very solid wave today because my eyes got stuck looking down at the reef instead of tracking where I wanted to go… It’s like descending at speed on a bike and looking off the side of the road where you don’t want to go instead of cutting the apex of a corner. Guess where you’re gonna go?

Anyway, hope to go repeat the day.

Seriously?

[Written Tuesday, 10/11 during blackout]

The purpose of this trip was of course one of spiritual odyssey and discovery, a-once-in-a-lifetime-adventure, eat/sleep/surf etc. etc.

Of course, the other purpose of this trip was to leverage technology—portable video filming and streaming devices, pictures, Facebook, blogs, email-- to rub 3 months of incredible waves, perfect beaches, and an incredible tan in the face of everyone I know. If you have a job, are experiencing or expect to soon experience winter, or like surfing, beaches and/or warm weather--this means you.

So far, the laugh is on me.

I’ve documented the pleasurable travel experiences that got me here to Burgos. Yesterday, it seemed as though things were turning around. I woke shortly after dawn to see the sun back-lighting the spray off through my window, creating a golden mist above the surf. It was the start to a lovely day, the kind of day I'd quit my job and traveled around the world to have.

I went to bed content after a day of surfing, reading and playing some uke; I was probably asleep by 8:30 or 9. I woke several times during the night to the sound of driving rain and strong winds. When I woke up around first light, it was pouring. The surf was pumping but messed up by the storm, pounding the outer breaks.

It being an unknown break with no pals to paddle out with, I decided to see what the weather was going to do.

Fast-forward to afternoon. It is practically dark. I would say the rains were monsoon-like, but maybe it actually is a monsoon. The power has been out for hours. The winds are now straight up scary. My hut is rocking on its stilts. At one point the wind is shrieking solidly at, I don't know, 40-50 miles an hour, for what seemed like 10 minutes. No gusting, just full on wind tunnel.

I am alone in a hut outside a tiny village with no power, no phone, no Web… At one point during that sustained wind blast, I consider crapping my board shorts. I decide to wait in case it actually is a typhoon. I’d like to make sure I can crap myself if it’s official and I don’t know if I have two in me.

I spend the afternoon in my hut alternating between reading and teaching myself ukulele.

[Sidebar: Let me make my very humble homage to Steve Jobs even though he was supposed to be difficult and personally screwed what would have been an important licensing deal with iTunes for me in my last job: That iPad kept me sane. Seriously. With nothing to do, no light no juice... well, iBooks, iTunes and a long battery was a lifesaver. That guy's ability to marry technology with our everyday lives in ways we never expected was a contribution beyond measure. I know he's building some cool shit on the other side right now... iEternity, here we come.]

Today’s ukelele lesson in the book was a new Hawaiian strumming technique practiced to “If You’re Happy and You Know It Clap Your Hands.” This should give you some idea where my skill level currently resides. Once I mastered the proper up/down/up/down/up/up technique, I started experimenting with some new lyrics, e.g. “If You’re Nervous and You Know It, Crap Your Pants.” “If You’d Really Like Some Power, Clap Your Hands.” I couldn’t really tell if I was getting better or not because the crashing surf, booming thunder and howling wind pretty much drowned everything out. To try to put a happy spin on things, I tried to pretend I was playing for a stadium of toddlers, the raging storm outside their thundering applause for my shredding rendition of my #1 smash hit (in the 2-6 age market).

Around 6, I sit down for dinner in the kitchen. Two candles flicker on the table and it’s nice to have some light. I ask Charlie when he thinks we might get power back, and the shrugs and laughs in his warm way. I might as well have asked him who won Monday Night Football. Does he think the storm will blow over by tomorrow? He says he’s not sure. The last he heard, it was a “Category 1” storm but since the power is out, "No radio, no TV, no news."

I consider asking how bad Category 1 is in the general scheme of things, but I figure between the translation issues and the fact that we’re stuck here anyway what’s the point. It's not like we're going to run away. We're here come hell or, gulp, high water. Speaking of which, he relays the creek down the road has overflowed and several houses have flooded—he gestures above his thigh to convey how deep it is over in the Joneses living room. Now, Charlie is a short guy but, still, you don’t want that much water in your house. I’m loving my hut’s stilts.

I’m going to finish my warm beer and hope this bullshit is over in the morning. I’m supposed to go the main surf resort area on the island tomorrow, though Charlie said something about the road not being able to pass the river.

(Editor's note: The next day I found out that indeed the storm, now named Ramon, was officially upgraded to a Category 2 typhoon. They closed schools and everything.)