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Published: November 27th 2011
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Bankvaults
Self indulgent Yeatesy at Bankvaults. Photo Catherine Chamberlain I've managed to break down tired into 2 rough categories. The first is the biproduct of sleep deprivation and is what we felt following 36 hours of non-stop travel and transit stops enroute to a wee little surf camp deep in the Mentawai Islands off Sumatra's west coast.
Travelling is not an exact science and to paraphrase Steinbeck: "the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry". Such was the case initially with our 12 day package to Pitstop Hill. The entire process looked watertight on paper until Steinbeck's line began ringing in my ears as our flight out of Sydney was delayed 5 hours, which in turn negated connecting flights and reservations that evening.
Frantic phone calls, emails, the cool runnings of Pitstop Hill management and liberal dobs of smiling co-operation from Garuda staff all conspired to ensure we still managed to stumble into our digs on schedule, although with precious little shut-eye under the belt. Tired number 1 was deeply etched into faces as we lumbered up the 95 or so steps (that's one way to tsunami proof your investment) to home for the next 10 days, much of the discomfort allayed by the sight
Pitstop Boat
Through the tyre. of the Indian Ocean lapping the shores below and a small swell showing.
Tired number 2, on the other hand, is a whole different kettle of fish. It's that genre of contented exhaustion you feel after a day of physical exertion and you're plumped snugly into a lounge chair with a cold one firmly planted in the right hand. This type of tired we experienced for 10 consecutive nights following 10 days of solid surfing and: "life was good, life was sweet".
Coming to the Mentawais in mid November was viewed as a risk by many: "the season is over" or "it could be flat the entire period", they said. To all those naysayers - "I LUFF IN YOU FACE!" My plan was simple. Come after most of the yacht charters had packed up sails along with all the other resorts, leaving the lineups relatively deserted and don't you just love it when a plan comes together.
Day in day out we would surf and then surf again in waves that would occasionally defy belief. The sheer number of breaks shoehorned into the immediate area is mindboggling and cater to all levels of ability and endeavour.
Water transport
95 steps down and back up again The staff and guides are in total sync with the prevailing conditons knowing exactly which waves might be firing at any one time. They discretely broke our mob into 2 fairly distinct groups, one for the chargers and the other for the less inclined to put life and limb on the line. Myself and John Boy, being 2 old farts and all, managed to squeeze ourselves neatly into group 2, which particularly pleased the blushing bride who for once was able to greet me at the airport still in one piece. Believe me, not all chics dig scars. JB and myself did infiltrate group one a few times on some of the more epic sessions and managed to feel young again, if only temporarily.
Maybe we were just plain lucky. We caught a zillion waves, the rest of our band of merry men (and woman) were a fun and ecclectic bunch and the staff and owners go way above and beyond the call of duty to ensure everyone leaves with a smile on their face. Then again, perhaps we weren't lucky and the so called "off season" isn't really "off" at all.
I'd always rated my Maldives foray
in August 1995 as my most memorable short surf sojourn. Finally it's just possible that the Maldives have been relegated to silver by the Mentawais 2011 - close call.
And in closing, I would be remiss to tail off this blog without a confession: I've prostituted myself. Don't panic sweetness, not in the literal sense (can't see myself getting a lot of work in that field these days anyway) but with the logistics of hauling camera gear safely into the boats, my photo gallery is minimal. Thus most of the images you see here are the work of surf guide Michael Chamberlain and his ever smiling wife Catherine. I thank them dearly for their efforts but can't at the same time feel a little dirty for having posted someone elses travails on my blog, as if I've supported England in a rugby test match - ooh that hurts.
Til next time.
Yeatesy
More images at:
www.colvinyeates.zenfolio.com
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Greg Burke
non-member comment
Nice
Hey Gary,, nice work.. well told.. Never got crook from the" Yummi" restaurant in Padang but got a flu when I got home and been crook for a week. (Same thing happened last year).. Hey you should be on that beer had mate,," Blokes punching above their weight". Penny number sartu.. ha ha take care greg and Matt.