Mentawai Boat Trip - I
am a terrible surfer. Let that be stated now. Dropping into my first
perfectly forming left-hand roller at Beng Beng’s, a popular surf break
in Indonesia’s Mentawai Islands, I was about as terrified out of my wits
as I have been in any situation. After crashing into the white wash
after a mere several seconds of glory standing up, the fear of falling
subsided and the paradise that encompassed me came back into view.
Beneath my feet, parrot and clown fish danced in and out of the vibrant
reef and around me the Mentawai’s, one of the worlds last remotely
preserved surfing destinations, scintillated my perspective.
Traveling in Southeast Asia today, it is
hard to believe that a mere hundred years ago much of this tropical
paradise was still very much uncharted ground for anyone but the most
wayward travelers. Present day, Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam are all
hotbeds of packaged and peddled tourism. Foreign culture has overtaken
much of what stood before in places like Bali, where ex-pats have set up
camp in search of a little piece of paradise to call their own. Not to
say that these places are not still amazing in their own sense, but
finding a place away from the hustle and bustle of Twinkie tourism,
where the culture has been built around the ocean, and wave riding
remains as the pure essence of living takes some local knowledge. I
nosed out this removed pocket of dogmatism in the Mentawai Islands.
I found myself sitting, playing cards,
with a carefree lot of rebels aboard an antiquated and packed ferry
slipping through the night on our 12-hour sail to the islands out of
Padang, Sumatra. As the 5 a.m. prayer of the Muslim world blasted over
the loud speakers of the ship, I left my small bunk and joined the first
officer on the railing. Together we watched sunrise usher in our first
day in the Mentawai Archipeligo.
Our guide, Diego Angel, n expatriated
Colombian and local surf guru who owns Mentawai Surf Camp, met us at the
ferry port that was little more than a dock at the mouth of a dirt
road, which wound off into the jungle. We would reach our destination on
the northern end of the largest island in the Mentawai, Siberut, by
speedboat. Pristine, white sand beaches rimmed with palm trees bound
every shred of land within sight and without sign of inhabitation beyond
the occasional fisherman in a dugout canoe. With the main island
running out beyond sight and bits of land no larger than a city block
speckled across the horizon, we disembarked at the Mentawai Surf Camp,
our home for the next 8 days.
The Mentawai Islands are home to some of
the most untouched and secluded surf breaks in the world. The power of
storms fuming off the southern Indian Ocean is turned and loudened by
the prevailing southeast trade winds and driven directly into this grip
off islets of the southern coast of Sumatra. From the month of April
through November, the Indian Ocean acts as a smash-mouth groundswell
machine. The result is perfectly forming and utterly consistent waves
across the span of the Mentawai.
We had arrived toward the end of high
season for swell and surf seeking travelers, but as Diego said, “The
waves don’t know about high and low season around here. Sometimes they
come large and sometimes they come small, but they always come.” Diego
recognized the Mentawai as his embodiment of Eden, and in 2007, found
another connection to these far-flung islands in his wife, Lora, who he
met at a surfing competition and married several months later. Lora,
then head of tourism working under the governor of the islands, helped
Diego acquire a small piece of land near the one dirt road town of Pei
Pei to bring his dreams of starting a surf camp to fruition.
Now his four-year-old son Joaquin,
lovingly referred to as “monkey,” accompanies Diego to the surf breaks
Joaquin has learned to love and know like his own. The young boy—whose
face is constantly painted with an ear-to-ear grin as he gleefully leaps
from the top of our long boat following Dad into the fray with his
pint-size surfboard all the while chiding me with “don’t be scared white
boy!”—is an island soul, true and true. The Mentawai Surf Camp, which
exists as a simple yet homey cloister of island style bungalows, nestled
amidst the tidal push of the mangroves, with a path leading directly
from the deck into the lapping surf, and filled with his wonderful
family, Diego has manifested his own paradise and I must say that it
fits the bill.
Like any other unique place of wonder
and majesty, I am sure the Mentawai will become more and more populous
with those seeking that which exists outside the circles of trend. Diego
laments that several large, resort-style hotels have begun construction
on Siberut, right off of some of the best surf breaks, souring them to
the taste of the locals. But as he adds final touches to a new building
on the grounds of Mentawai Surf Camp, which will be a new home for his
family on the top floor and a large beach bar and restaurant on the
floor level, he admits that change is inevitable. From my point of view,
I think we are lucky to live in the age where there are still places of
seclusion beyond the reach and grip of civilization, as there will be
fewer and fewer in generations to come. If the impetus and ability to go
and see what the world has to offer, I strongly suggest that you do so.
Sumber : http://adventureblog.nationalgeographic.com
