Travel Journal Entry 007 — Blue Mountains: Ekas, Masculinity & A Quickfire Guide to Surf Equipment in Ekas, Lombok, Indonesai

Entry 007 | 13.10.24

Although our journey was only beginning, our time in Indonesia was nearing its end. Over a riotous month in tepid 33-degree waters, we had formed a fantastic cohort, adopting three additional Kiwis, two Ozzies, a pair of equally sleepy Italians, a cameo from a German, the same from a Brit, one Dutch girl, a Hawaiian, one radically relaxed Moroccan and of course, my favourite American (sorry Tiffany).

Another welcomed introduction was a superb chain of dynamite Southern Ocean swell. Continuing to explode over reefs throughout Indonesia and everywhere else on its way, each pulse charging northward from that obsidian-faced ocean below forty degrees. Each pulse ravaging coasts from Sydney to Sumatra, arriving clean with dependable trade winds licking the face of each wave, curled smooth like blue vanilla. It was June now, the beginning of dry season.

The most accessible breaks near Kuta, Lombok, are wet season options. I won’t get up to my neck in such intricacies again. I’m sure at least half of you want to read something more than just surf shop (to the other four of you, venture back to Entry 001 to get your fix). But although Gerupuk Bay’s breaks were junky, they also remained remarkably crowded.

So, where to go? That was the question. Surely amongst our rat-tag bunch, somebody had some ideas. Anyone?

‘Pffff’ Fede exclaimed between tightly pressed lips, ‘this wow, my god. So nice.’

If that wasn’t enough, he sealed our trust by shaking two-pointer fingers stuck to his thumbs.

The spot was a half-hour ride, and the same again by boat across a tremendous green bay. A place called Ekas, facing west, where giant clay headlands block cross-winds, the tops buzzcut with ashen scrub, a lone abandoned bamboo outpost watching on like a mole on a scalp. A place where open ocean swell is squeezed through the bay’s entrance, smashing into the eastern headland and wrapping around the south-eastern claw. The drama of Ekas Insides and Outsides, the breaks Fede had heralded with zeal.

Only, the more sure you are that something will be great, the better-sensed you are to recommend it to no one. For the more vigorously you recommend it, the harder it inevitably tanks. And when you’re so adamant, sp primordially sure, the coefficient only increases. Call it Fede’s Law or something. I knew his pain all too well.

*Across the tremendous green bay, (L to R) Fede, Marco, Ryan, Memphis, Marlya.*
*Awang Bay, Lombok*

An Indonesian intermediary promised a large fishing boat. A private charter of course — room to relax, drone footage; all the usual tropical promises. A lot of ‘yes brother’ and ‘for sure brother’ voice notes over WhatsApp, undeniably uttered between drags of a cigarette and astutely designed to make you part ways with your precious Dirham.

What we got was to be expected: our boat overfilled, our time at each spot curtailed, and a drone that must’ve camouflaged into the hills. We coloured these first two sessions with hours spent sitting in the beautifully green water, chasing mostly ripples and rumours of swell. Glimpses of excitement came from giant trevallies having better luck, breaching in pursuit of mackerel, their sprays arching in rainbowed reflection, the larger water droplets chanderliering in the morning light.

By lunch, our eyes were rubbed raw from salt and our stomachs empty. Many of us having only operated off a can of cold coffee and a bruised banana since leaving Gerupuk. Bananas around these parts are comparatively small to Western examples.

A short boat trip to the white sands of Ekas Beach made a village accessible. We jumped out into neck-deep water. It was a shorebreak-type beach that dropped away suddenly at the tide line. Great for swimming, less so for disembarking. The better prepared floated their dry bags on top of the water, the lesser, holding raised arms in the air, their phones and wallets sharply cut against the solid blue sky. We then strolled up the cliffside and along a fiercely hot path with the sun howling at our backs, dust settling on our sandals and rubbed to mud with sweat. We took a left down a partially cobbled road, past cats hiding under the shade, then an erroneous right toward a gravelled and shrubbed dead end. Then back the way we came, locals staring at our scorched skin and all the while the wail of a midday adhan reminding us how far we were from home. Well, except one of us.

‘What is he saying?’ I asked Aymen, wiping the sweat off my cheeks.

‘He’s reading the Quran.’

‘Is it live every time? Is someone actually in there singing?‘

‘Sometimes, most of the time, it’s recorded.’

We finally reached Ekas Surf Lodge; a cold pool and one of the greatest toasted sandwiches I have ever tasted. Forget gold, this was our very own Eldorado.

*Laidback Aymen under Mount Rinjani.*
*Ekas Beach, Lombok*

Forecasts foretold growing swell for the following days and better winds… perhaps more tropical promises? As with much else organised in pursuit of Gerupuk Bay and beyond, this time, we consulted Mr.Dee, the local surf shaman. A good, honest man as far as board and boat merchants go. He’s an excellent guide, particularly for learners and will always give you a hand if you’re in a group, even if only one is paying. He offers his services for 350K / 35 NZD for two hours, including board and a boat, which is a fair market price. He can guide you into the right positions, clear the way amongst other Indonesian instructors and foreign surfers, or do more than that and push you onto the peak itself, yelling ‘Goo, gooo, goooo! Go now, paddle, paddle, harderrr! Eyyyy’.

Importantly, he picks rideable waves and is interested in your progress rather than simply dumping you on to any peak. Guides who prescribe to the latter forge a dangerous arena of flying boards, slicing fins and screaming Europeans. Dee can also prepare a boat for you in the bay, even if you don't need a lesson, but beware, they don’t run like a Japanese train schedule. See previous entries for Indonesian Boat Negotiation. His WhatsApp is below.

*The Right Honourable Mr Peyeng Die.*
*Gerupuk Bay, Lombok*

We met Dee under grey skies before dawn. Stacking boards in the back of his ‘cousin's’ ute, we took off in pursuit, nipping through valleys and villages as a warming sun parted the morning cloud. Its warmth was welcomed, but the glare made riding tough, as gold rays blinded us on our bikes, casting rays across the ribcages of mangey strays and the cheekbones of sunken-faced women bent double, a brief moment caught in a beam from above as if they had all finally earned a flight to somewhere much better. I mounted the mud shoulder to undercut a truck, taking its time over potholes. After not long at all, we arrived at Awang Bay.

Another boat ride. This time, a genuinely private, smaller boat. The harbour was calm, the water milky. The winds were right but what of the waves? Another day of ripples and rumours? We put-put out past two giant wooden galleons, sleeping fisherman’s colourful laundry hanging down the stern and starboard side. Unable to see right across the bay we had to sit and hope. Waiting, wondering, until, finally, we made out salt spray off the eastern headland. And then visions of white wash. And then the backs of big blue lumps moving across the coast. Could it be?

‘Wow.’ Fede exclaimed, ‘Pfft, I think it’s really big.’

Two consecutive days of swell, big and clean, the wind right and Ekas in all her fat, wedgey glory. Breaking over deeper waters, a blue mountain would rise from out back, catch the sun and shimmer like emerald stained glass illuminating a cathedral, then crash! Bomb zone up in salt smoke and a steep and short left or a long, wide wall heading right.

Two of my finest sessions in a fantastically average amateur career. First, on a 6’4“ twin fish and next on a round rail 6’6” set up as a twin. On that first morning, I sat well out back and found good luck amongst the mountains, the best of which I took off late, just behind the peak. I shaped to go left to capture total momentum, swept back right below the wash and pumped past the section. My late entry had me poised for the best of the wall; the wave had reared its back and now granted me access to her blossom. I shot down the line, taking full advantage of the reeling, porcelain train at its widest, most intimidating, quickest and most powerful.

‘Did you see that one man?’

‘Yes. You made that other guy do a flip down the face of the wave.’ Aymen grinned.

‘Oh shit, did I drop in on him?’

‘No, you were on the inside. It was funny.’

‘Inshallah, I will get another.’

Aymen had been sitting shallower, looking for the odd wave missed by the rest between sets. He seemed off, like he was shying away from it all, but with his disposition, I assumed he was just doing his own thing. Paddling back out to the foothills, I caught the eye of a slender, scruffy-looking man in a basketball singlet and a bucket hat. An interesting getup.

‘You guys from across the bay are ya?’

‘Across the bay?’ I asked, not picking up what he was putting down.

‘Did you get a boat over?’

‘Oh yeah, early this morning. Have been in the water an hour or so. Did you?’

‘Nah mate. We don’t really like boat people here.’

‘Aha,’ I stumbled, ‘boat people?’

‘Yeah, getting a boat over. You get four or five boats of ten people arrive here and it gets silly.’

Just great. Conditions at their best and an expat crowd at its usual worst. A hot feeling rose up from my gut and pickled the back of my neck. Should I push back now? Assert my rank in the lineup. Let off on how this was just as much any other foreigner’s break as his, which was not at all. He hardly looked Indonesian nor sounded it. Another westerner exerting a neo-colonial grip on a place they call home after six months and not a lick of the language. Or should I leave it? Do my own thing, paddle past without saying anything. Or better yet, give him the old dog blank stare. Or what about my other plan, in perfectly good English say ‘Sorry, I don’t speak English.’ That’s possibly the best balance of passive confrontation mixed with comedy to get a victory out of a diffused situation. Rinse and repeat. Then in earshot, have a perfectly BBC English-modulated conversation with a friend in the lineup. Yeah… that will get him that will…

‘Not you though. You know how to surf. It’s the learners. They just get thrown into waves and it’s dangerous.’

Ahh. I kinda like this guy.

In actual fact, I understood his point. It can be dangerous when instructors take their clients into conditions far above their skillset. Witnessing a grinning rash-shirt careering down the face of a blue cliff is only humorous when you’re not in their way. There had been a few learners at Ekas in the previous days. Of course, it is a comparatively mellow, forgiving break and although conditions were a touch heavier, the lineup had split into learners well on the inside and more capable surfers waiting their turn to ski down the mountain.

*Aymen leading us to toasted sandwhich salvation.*
*Awang Bay/Ekas, Lombok*

We got to talking anyway. It’s best to opt for diplomacy with salty dogs in unfamiliar waters. If they get a sniff of weakness they’ll circle you like a shark, trying to throw a look your way at any chance, waiting for you to catch a wave to either drop in or critique your performance with their pack of parasitic Remora fish hungry for the crumbs. Better yet, if they decide your number is theirs, they might even paddle right up to you and block you from catching any wave. Worse even, like my friend Alex in Mexico, you could have your board snatched out of your hands right there in the drink. Admittedly, he did paddle out at a ‘locals only’ spot. It’s important to note he has an indomitable charisma and honesty that quickly earned his board back and the chief dog cheering him into the next few waves. He just had to bob out in the Pacific for a lonely few minutes.

I was once the young, unfortunate recipient of the wave-block tactic, at my local break of all places, a grey, drizzly day before the black sands and rugged cliffs of Karioitahi Beach. I was green and took a wave without looking, not realizing I had dropped in on an old bullshark. He decided the best way to respond to a teenager making a mistake was the method detailed above. Perhaps fair. I learnt my lesson. But I still argue words are a more effective method of sharing suggestions. I took a last close-out and boogie-boarded in.

Whether it be surfing, football or anything else in life, the older I get the more I realise how ridiculous some adult’s behaviour is toward people who are essentially kids. I’ve had a grown man watching his own son play football try to heckle me from the stands as I warmed up on the sideline. He took great offence to the asymmetric colour of my boots (okay, I was wearing one baby blue on the left foot, one hot pink on my right foot - but all my favourite players had them and they were extremely comfortable).

‘Did you leave the other one at home!’ He chirped, nudging his other adult friend and laughing.

I said nothing, only staring at them both in disbelief. They dropped their smiles pretty quick as I let the absurdity of the one-sided exchange marinate in silence.

This isn’t exactly a traumatic moment in my life. His line was pretty sharp to be fair. I was only surprised he even took the time to notice what a kid was wearing and go as far as commenting to a mate. But then again, baby blue and pink are pretty ‘gay’ colours. I was probably a bit of a ‘homo’, maybe even a ‘poof’.

But I’d take ‘raging faggot’ a million times over tribal lunatic. Maybe it’s just sport that brings out the worst. Slow-motion footage of a goal scored in the English Premier League exposes hundreds of mortgage-bearing, child-rearing, general-manager-fearing middle-aged muppets shaking their first or flipping the bird at a nineteen-year-old professional. Perhaps it’s an expression of class warfare. The honest proletariat accosts the putrid bourgeoisie! Or, maybe, ‘It’s just part of it all.’ As I’m assured by people who can neither define, ‘it’, nor, ‘all’. Whatever ‘it’ is, worms its way into the male domain so persistently, malignantly, that vast swathes of young men give up their passions and ditch their hobbies before their acne makes way for a beard, opting to pursue something less like ‘all’ with their hard-won free time.

*Aymen hanging five at insides.*
*Ekas, Lombok*

Later, Aymen told me he’d noticed the lineup was off, that we had received a few stares when paddling from the boat. Unfriendlyness in the lineup isn’t uncommon and I supposed the waves charging in as we arrived had marshalled most of my attention. Looking back, I did notice a couple of straight faces. Mostly oldies. I just chalked it up to Australians thinking their local domain and the archaic rules they impose on strangers extended over 4,0000 kilometres from the shoreline of their home break.

Singlet Man was an Aussie expat. But after disarming him with some light conversation he turned out alright. Perhaps I was the more judgemental of us both. He was overseeing an accommodation x restaurant build in Ekas village and had lived there for some time, probably from when nobody surfed it besides the odd local. He was, like many people who have given considerable time and investment into a passion they love, slightly peeved at the recent uptake of surfing as a pastime for the masses, most of it being pushed by the coercive power of social media and made accessible by discretionary income and currency imbalances. I could not complain. We talked shop, about the spot and the swell, when it works better, on what tide and what time of year. He pointed out that the GTs chased mackerel and if I jigged a line of my boat I might be able to get one. In between chatting forecasts and fishing, another mountain rose from the back. No one else shaped up to want it, so I went right and he went left.

The set-wave scooped us both up like two leaves swept from the pavement by a gust. Like the others, it reared its back before folding under its own sheer mass, sending a surge of mist up like a waterfall. I caught a glimpse of a bucket hat freefalling to my right, was blinded by the spray, wiped my eyes clean and did my best to keep my balance. Into the blinding blue day, I slingshotted out, with only just enough time to turn between the inside section of the line-up. I shifted my weight left, climbed up the shoulder of the dissipating wall, dropped back down then slipped over its fat shoulder. Another great ride. Another smile from Aymen. But back in the bomb zone, I spotted a bucket hat bobbing and some sinewy arms waving toward an apologetic Indonesian.

In such instances, my first instinct is to assume I’m in the wrong. I don’t know what it is, but if I see people discussing something angrily, I assume it’s about me. I sheepishly paddled back out, angling toward that black bucket hat buoy and prepared an apology in my head. ‘Sorry, was I in your way?’ No, that would only aggravate him… what about. ‘Sorry man, I didn’t see you’.. no not sincere enough. Uhmmm, ‘Hey man, I’m really sorry I couldn’t see anything behind the mist I thought you were going right’… He caught my eye again.

‘Sorry did I do something!’. He was out of earshot. Was his face confused or angry? Now I had to paddle closer and repeat myself. ‘Sorry man, was I in your way? There was so much spray and I thought you were heading right and…’

‘Nah mate, not you! It was one of those damn learners. Look!’ He held up the underside of his board, a deep gash ripped right through the glass exposing a teart of white foam inside like a tiger’s claw mark, lit a blinding white by the sun. ‘One of the instructors pushing them in again!’

’Jeeez… that’s gnarly.’ I agreed, quite sincerely.

‘Could’be been my back! Or my head!’

He was right. About the gash and maybe about the boat.

*Maybe not quite a mountain, but never let the truth get in the way of a good blog.*
*Ekas, Lombok*

I had borrowed some keel fins from Aymen when the day and board probably demanded uprights. Like many specialised passions, surfing offers gearheads every opportunity to relish in a myriad of ever-improving tech and highly commercialised, performance-enhancing products. A far cry from the days of ‘mahana’ and counter-culture, renegade behaviour. It’s at the Olympics, after all.

First, you have the board shape and length. Longboards, the genesis of surfing, are typically around 8’5” to 10“, with board length measured in feet and inches. This metric is likely thanks to surfing originating out of the West Coast of America in the ’60s. However, I have read Hawaiians are the original locals, riding wooden planks as spiritual practice, praying to pagan gods for waves. Allegedly, Christian missionaries put a stop to this, arguing the practice contradicted the Good Lord. A couple hundred years later, many long-haired and bearded sandal wearers ride endless waves of irony.

By today's standards, mid-lengths range from 6’5“ up to something just before a longboard, and short boards are anything under, all the way to about 5’4” for the truly small and nimble. Even smaller for groms (young kids). When picking a board, many who honed their craft in the 2000s adopt a somewhat wilting, but helpful standard: a shortboard 2 inches taller than you with a three-fin thruster setup.

From what I understand, it was all single-fin logs in the early days, then the advent of twins, and finally, the thruster. In between, various shapes and methods were developed, and now, we have more choices than spots to surf. Pintails, rounded tails, square tails, fishes, swallows. Entry rocker, exit, rails, glassing, volume. Epoxy, PU, wool technology, even foil boards and asymmetric shapes!

There’s too much to cover in this one entry, and I’ve already promised to lay off the shop. But as I believe this highly meditative and essentially healthy pastime to be somewhat gatekept by oldheads and those much younger but equally as thick, I will provide a swift briefing. With the little knowledge I hardly possess, I will do my best to briefly educate you on the equipment needed to voluntarily participate in the overly competitive, toxically territorial pastime of riding a bit of plastic on the ocean. An engagement made possible when one boasts privileges in time, geography, abled-bodiness and often, money. Yet, an engagement so consistently participated in by scowling fuckers who stare so intently, you wonder if they received eyes for Christmas. A strange and rare realm indeed.

*Boards in all their shapes and configurations.*
*Muriwai, New Zealand*

The dimensions of a board are more than just the length. These measurements are usually written on the stringer (the thin strip of wood that dissects surfboards once, twice or, at times, thrice and strengthens the foam inside that would otherwise snap). A shaper will have marked the dimensions (alternatively, this may be on the rail somewhere, the rounded perimeter of the board). Dimensions might read something like 6’0“ x 19”1/2“ x 2”1/2“ x 30L — length, width and rail thickness respectively, with litreage a relatively new metric. Litreage offers a more accessible understanding of board size. When starting surfing, wave count will help most, not performance, appearance or wave size. Volume is great for knowing how much float you have. The higher the volume, the easier it is to catch the wave until things get steep and hollow. I will explain this better below.

Many argue that litreage influences people’s board choices too much. Many shapers won't discuss it at all, preferring you outlay your ability, local break, fitness, and a rough idea of what you’re looking for in and what you’re looking to get out of your new board. The shaper then shapes, with ‘dims’ provided on completion and often omitting litres. As my surfing improves, I’m inclined to agree with the retro snub of litreage. But for the sake of all those with less time and leisure than myself, reading is a helpful tool. I still look for it.

Today, surfing progression often funnels downward, first from an 8-9 foot soft top or ‘foamie’. Foamies are fantastic for beginners. They float well and don't hurt as much when colliding with your face. They’re also a nice insurance policy when you inevitably ram into someone else or get run into. Your foamie shouldn't damage their fibreglass board as much (hopefully), and at worst, you might get a slice down the top of yours with a fin. Still, a foamie will only serve you well up to shoulder-high or above waves; you risk snapping it in two unless you know what you’re doing.

From there, the more laid-back a person is, the shorter their shorts, the longer their hair and moustache and the more inclined they are to pick a daisy from the car park berm by the break and tuck it behind their ear, the more likely they’ll be drawn to the world of longboarding, adopting a fibreglass (hard top) board of roughly the same length or greater. In George Orwell’s early 20th-century account of the British working class, The Road to Wigan Pier, he posits;

“One sometimes gets the impression that the mere words ‘Socialism’ and ‘Communism’ draw towards them with magnetic force every fruit-juice drinker, nudist, sandal-wearer, sex-maniac, Quaker, ‘Nature Cure’ quack, pacifist, and feminist in England.”

The same can be said for ‘single-fin’ and ‘twinnie’.

*Single fins and moustaches.*
*Piha, New Zealand*

But others go the modern route, moving to a short board shape with good volume and progressing down to tighter, looser short boards. Other learners may start with an old shortboard, a fridge door or a chilly bin lid. The shorter the board, the darker, the more dangerous, the sunglasses. The more wool in the flannel shirt, the blacker the jeans, the more cushion in the Reef jandals and the thicker the knitted beanie. They’re inclined to trample on the berm daisy, making their way to the stand before the break for an hour without taking a single sip from their oversized coffee thermos. The permanent five-o’clock stubble and genetically superior peripheral vision — for their side eyes are something of legend. These are the lucky fellas on Christmas Day, whose vocabulary consists of ever-more esoteric surf slang peppered with the odd bark that someone's a ‘fucken kook’.

But this is all hyperbole, of course… or is it? I have met many beautiful humans in the water. Perhaps many others think of me in equally disparaging terms. You will notice that much of my negative commentary does not apply to females. The opposite sex, to me, seem far more accepting and amicable. They even have surfing pages set up for tips, carpooling, and sharing live reports. Their male counterparts, for example, frequent pages like ‘Indo Surf Recommendations’, a Facebook group where someone will ask for an Indonesian Surf Recommendation and the first comment from an old, salty dog with a wave as his profile picture will read ‘google it’ or if he finds the time between scowling at youngsters in the drink or and complaining about his wife, ‘in my day you got down to the spot and looked at the waves’.

Here’s an interaction I’m particularly fond of; sourness, anger, some truth and the perfect profile picture:

What I’ve been saying is not all fair, though. Firstly, I learnt to surf because of some fantastically accommodating young guys in Mount Maunganui who took me and a mate under their wings. I also have made many of my best friends and most friendly acquaintances through the sport. I’m thinking Alex, Jason, Matt, Chris, Steve, Evandah, Dexter, (in that order through a first encounter with Alex), Dan, Jarrod, Drew and others from home, Elliot, Ryan, Fede, Marco, Niko, Noah… everyone we’ve met surfing overseas! Tyler from the Philippines who made our trip what it was, Tiffany, Martina, Marlya, Sharon and every other girlfriend Memphis now cherishes. Of course, those Mount boys in the early days, the Karioitahi Board Riders, and the perhaps hundreds of others I’ve missed. I only want to make this blog as entertaining as I can.

Secondly, you’re almost more likely to be dropped in on by a member of the opposite sex. The gleaming new longboard enthusiast yelling ‘party wave’ whilst paddling on your inside. Or she says nothing, looking you dead in the eye while she glides down the best of the wave. Particularly when it’s busy, you’ll find that the misinformed stereotype of the chill, pot-head surfer was lost somewhere in the late seventies. When the waves are scarce and the line-up full, homo sapiens take on a crazed frenzy, justifying their actions with the all too familiar ‘everyone else is dropping in; if I don’t, I won't get a wave’. The marine equivalent to the cretin who drives up the shoulder of a motorway entrance, just to flick on their indicator and get someone to let them.

But back to boards. Your new foamie will have a three-fin thruster setup (inverted triangle). From there, you might join the juice-drinkers on a longboard or eight-footer hard top. Progress further, and you might get on a thruster again, or you can begin to experiment with single-fin short boards, twins (parallel, medium fins) and quads (four fins, the outer two larger than the inside two) for a different feel. You notice the difference when you improve your ability; that’s why, when beginning, it’s best to focus less on the gear and more on getting out there. The same can be said for those trying to progress to a short board too quickly. Unless you live on an island in front of consistent breaks every day, you want to maximise your time on the wave every session, or ‘wave count’. Longer boards with greater volume will help as they sit higher off the water due to their surface area; they paddle quicker and easier and get planning on the wave far earlier. Your take-off point is less critical or steep, and you have more margin for error when getting up slower or clumsier. You might then ride the wave for longer without having to ‘pump’ (the act of shifting your surfboard up and down to generate speed) or get into ‘trim’ (riding parallel to the wave so only your side and or back fins and rail is engaged to the wall of the wave). To get better, you need to get in front of the whitewash, the breaking wave, and make it down the face of the wave. Remember, it’s not the size of the wave or board; it’s the size of your smile when riding.

*Following my own advice for once — Gerupuk Bay, Lombok*

Anyway, that was about three entries worth of writing, so I hope you forgive me for delay. Plus, I promised no more shop. Other jargon in this entry is in the glossary below. All else can be found at the bottom of previous entries. Perhaps soon, I'll create a dedicated section on this website in the hopes that a keen and eager ‘kook’ will google surf jargon and stumble across my blog instead.

On to Malaysia.

*Indonesia, goodbye for now — Gerupuk Bay, Lombok*

Links & EXTRAS

Mr. Dee’s WhatsApp: +62 852-3871-2500

Memphis Book Club: Laurie Colwin - Happy All the Time. ‘A warm fuzzy read about two friends.’ Memphis is now 38 books down for the year.

Essential travel purchase(s): Looking back, I would have loved to have had my leash with me for this trip. Although it would’ve taken up room in my bag, the superior comfort and convenience of quickly renting a board and tying on my leash once out there would’ve made up for it. I’ve also had a few come undone on this trip. On the bigger days, that’s not what you want.

Some resources I used: Again, this entry was a lot of unevidenced malarky.

Glossary

Pulse: An increase in the energy of the ocean, a ‘bump’ in swell. Waves get bigger and roll in more consistently. Often used to describe the feeling of a period of consistent wave activity.

Pumping (swell): Consistent, vital waves groomed by favourable winds. Just great surf.

Set wave: The largest and most powerful (or perhaps best groomed) waves of a set. Waves typically arrive in sets of seven. Often the best are the final two, sometimes it’s the middle two. Waves come in lines separated by periods/intervals (the seconds elapsed between waves — someone please correct me if I’m wrong here). I have explained periods in a previous entry.

Junky: Much like the term ‘messy’ but more related to surface conditions of surfable waves. Think choppy, slightly inconsistent or wind-affected.

Outsides: A spot where waves break further from the shore, typically up a point or coastline. These waves are larger and more powerful as the headland or seabed/reef has not yet depleted the swell.

Insides: A spot where waves break closer to the beach or down the point or coastline, often smaller and with less energy than the outside break.

Fat: A broad and heavy wave but often lacking the energy to break. This may be due to the tide being too full or depressions in the sea bed or reef. The opposite of hollow and steep. Although large fat waves with much power are rideable at some breaks, where they offer an easier takeoff and a lot of fun when moving up and down the face of the wave.

Hollow: Waves that form a tube or barrel shape.

Steep/Critical: Waves that have a sharp drop. Challenging to take-off on due to the increased momentum and gravity. Often encountered when taking off on a wave late. Late-take-offs are necessitated by the nature of some breaks.

Wedge/wedges: A wave that forms at an angle, creating a wedge shape that allows for unique, dual-direction rides. Go left or right.

Crest: I may have already explained this one. The top part of a wave, where it begins to break, is often considered the most critical area for surfing.

Twin/Twinnie: A surfboard design featuring two fins. Provides a unique riding experience emphasising speed and maneuverability. Without a third fin in the centre, water races through a channel created by the two fins without friction, increasing speed. However, turning sharper at tighter angles is more challenging without a centre pivot fin.

Fish: A shorter and broader surfboard, ideal for smaller waves (or used expertly on larger swell, particularly wedgey/fat blue mountains) and offering a different, more playful ride. The shape of a fish, with a swallow tail pulling in and splitting in two.

Swallowtail: A surfboard with a tail that is split into two points, enhancing turning ability and wave control. Without the increased width under the chest region and snatched in the shape of a fish.

Pintail: A surfboard with a tapered tail designed for better control and maneuverability in larger waves. Ideal for barrel riding.

Rounded Tail: Not as tight a point as a pintail. Curved and smooth, providing good maneuverability and flow through turns. Rounded tails are often found on boards designed for smoother, more fluid surfing styles and are suitable for a variety of wave conditions and levels of surfers.

Squash Tail: Less round than a rounded tail. Flat and slightly squared off, offering a balance between stability and quick turning ability. Squash tails are popular among shortboard surfers as they provide good control and responsiveness. Ideal for fast, aggressive surfing.

Square Tail: Even more square than a squash tail. A distinctly flat, squared-off tail that offers maximum release and drive when turning. Square tails are typically used on performance boards, allowing for sharp turns and quick maneuvers, especially in powerful waves. Great for big snappy turns and whippaaaiiiingggg.

Asymmetrical Boards: Surfboards designed with different shapes or features on each side, typically tailored to suit a surfer's dominant turning direction (regular or goofy). These boards often have varying widths, rocker profiles, or fin setups that enhance performance and control when turning in one direction, allowing for a more dynamic and specialized riding experience. Asymmetrical boards can be particularly beneficial for surfers looking to optimize their performance based on their preferred style.

Regular/reg: When riding a surfboard/snowboard/wakeboard/skateboard etc. your left foot is in front and your back foot is your right. If this is naturally your stance, then you are regular.

Goofy: The opposite.

Single Fin: A setup/configuration of one large fin in the centre. It is often associated with a more classic, smooth riding style, particularly for longboard or mid-length riders. Retro shortboard and fish shapes may also feature a single fin configuration.

Set-up/configuration: The number, arrangement and placement of fin(s) on the underside of your board. Sometimes people refer to a ‘set-up’ as also including the leash and tail pad on a shortboard.

Leash: What straps around your ankle, ties to the board and stops you from swimming to shore after every bail. Believe it or not, for many years surfers rode without a leash, is it was a realtivalley ‘modern’ invention. It is now regaining popularity today, with many arguing leashes promote ‘lazy surfing’. This is much to the dismay of the foreheads of white-wash dwelling learners and children on boogie boards. But hey, so long as it looks cool. In the case of longboarding, riding leashless can help free up one’s legs to walk down the board (cross-step) and hang five or 10 (the amount of toes hanging off the nose of the board whilst continuing to ride the wave).

Quad: A setup/configuration of four fins designed for speed and stability. The configuration of choice for big wave surfers — more fins = more friction'/grip on the face of the wave.

Keels/Keel Fins: Fins positioned on the bottom of a board that enhance stability and drive while surfing.

Uprights/Upright Fins: Fins that are vertical, offering quick responsiveness and better maneuverability during turns.

Thruster: A popular tri-fin setup that combines stability and maneuverability, favoured by many surfers.

Pump/Pumping (ride): The technique of using your body weight and movements to generate speed while riding a wave. Pumping your board by shifting your weight up and down or side to side, creating momentum and harnessing the wave’s energy to maintain or increase speed.

The Line: The ideal path a surfer takes down the face of a wave. Crucial for maximizing speed and performance. Typically, it is the quickest point from A to B, in trim and whilst pumping.

Drop-in/Dropped-in/Snaked/Burnt: These terms are used when a surfer takes off on a wave that another surfer is already riding and is often considered poor etiquette. The surfer closest to the white water or part of the wave that is breaking/about to break typically has ‘priority’. This is usually superseded by rank and locality in some places. Also, if a surfer is already up on their board and riding, you cannot paddle and catch the inside between them and the peak/whitewash. They have priority.

Hardtop/Fibreglassed: Traditional surfboards made with fibreglass for durability and performance. The fibreglass is wrapped around and then glass coated on a block of foam that has been shaped to the rider or shaper’s intended dimensions.

Glass/Glassing: Applying resin to a surfboard to provide strength and a smooth finish.

Soft Top/Foamie: Surfboards with a smooth, cushioned surface and plastic underside. Ideal for beginners due to their forgiving nature.

PU: Polyurethane is the traditional material for surfboards, known for its flex and feel and popular among many surfers.

Epoxy: A lightweight, durable material used in surfboard construction, providing a snappy ride and resistance to damage.

Stringer: A wooden strip running down the centre of a surfboard, providing strength and flexibility.

Entry Rocker: The curve at the front of a surfboard helps it paddle smoothly into waves. The stepper the curve, the stepper wave you can get into, but the less overall surface area of the board on the water, notably, under your chest and in front. This makes paddling harder.

Exit Rocker: The curve at the back of a board affects performance during turns.

Rail/Rails: The edges of a surfboard, which help with grip and control when riding waves. Tighter rails offer more excellent maneuverability. Thicker offers better stability (I think).

Dimensions/Dims: The specific measurements of a surfboard, including length, width, and thickness, which influence its performance, rideability and suitability/versatility for various conditions.

Volume: The ‘three-dimensional?’ size of a board measured in litres. The amount of space a board occupies affects its buoyancy and ease of paddling. This is most heavily influenced by the board’s surface area on the water. Not to be confused with weight or heaviness. Also, altering the dimensions of a board so that more volume is positioned at different areas, for example, under the chest, will change the performance of the board and conditions it suits.

Loose: When a board feels very responsive and easy to maneuver, allowing for quick turns and adjustments. Typically associated with low-volume, short boards or boards retro shapes or fin configurations.

Trim: Maintaining the optimal position on a wave to maximize speed and glide. When a surfer is in trim, they are balanced and aligned with the wave’s energy, allowing for a smooth ride without excessive maneuvering. Typically, just the rail and a fin or two engaged (I think).

Engaged: Being in complete control of the board’s relationship with the wave while riding, allowing for smooth and effective maneuvers.

Kook: A beginner surfer or someone who lacks experience and makes basic mistakes in the water.

Blue Mountains: Ekas, Masculinity & a Quickfire Guide to Surf Equipment

Links & EXTRAS

Glossary

Thanks for Reading!

Blue Mountains: Ekas, Masculinity & a Quickfire Guide to Surf Equipment

Links & EXTRAS

Glossary

Thanks for Reading!

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