Chris Goodnow
Finding Macaronis
A 1980 Expedition to the Mentawai Islands
First Attempt
Grajagan, G-land, is an amazing sight, especially when you know you have it all to yourself for the next five days.
I was staying in what were the beginnings of the world’s first commercial surf camp, then an exclusive arrangement of uncertain legal basis between Californian Mike Boyum and the Chief of Police in Banyuwangi, the nearest Javanese city, otherwise known only for its notorious jail. Aside from my sister and I, there were no other ‘guests’ that season because Mike had allegedly abandoned the project for the hills of Thailand, pursued by US narcotics agents.
There was, however, evidence of at least one famous guest who’d stayed there before us – several of Gerry Lopez’ Lightning Bolt boards were stored in the rafters of our hut.
Ironically, my trip to G-land to surf its semi-known wave was simply the back-up for failing to achieve my primary goal – to fulfil the surfer’s dream by finding perfect, unridden waves in remote parts of Indonesia. My Java exploration had included getting permits from the Indonesian National Parks Office in Bogor to stay in Plengkung (G-Land), from where I planned to search unexplored surfing territory in Ujung Kulon and the island of Panaitan at the other end of Java. I only got as close as the nearest port to Panaitan, where my $5-a-day budget was not remotely close to covering the quotes for a boat charter.
But Java itself was only a back-up plan that kicked in after an arduous and unsuccessful attempt to fulfil the dream over five weeks exploring, on my own, way off the beaten path in Sumatra. I’d had OK surf at Lhoknga near Aceh in the north, and a wild trip on public buses along the Trans-Sumatran Highway down the west coast to Meulaboh; then sleeping on ferry-decks along the island chain, starting at Simeleue and heading south towards Nias. It was obviously rich with potential for surf, and nowadays that potential has almost all been revealed in all its glory. But to get to those waves in 1978 – on the other side of islands with jungles and no roads, a long way from the main ports – you needed more planning and resources than I had come with.
A storm and a fever of unknown origin had aborted my ferry trip towards Lagundri Bay on Nias, where it was already known there was some kind of a wave. The discovery of waves in Nias back in 1974 had spread by word of mouth in the cliff-top warungs at Uluwatu, and surfing at Lagundri was even mentioned in the Lonely Planet guide in 1978, but no photographic evidence had leaked out. What I’d missed out on only became clear the following year, when Surfer magazine published on its cover Erik Aeder’s classic shot of the emerald, then-empty Lagundri righthander, complete with palm-ringed bay.
If there were good waves in Nias, I’d reasoned, there had to be good waves in the Mentawai Island chain to the south. On the way back from Sumatra to Java I took a steamer from Padang to Jakarta past the southern Mentawai Islands, the ship rolling in a 10ft Indian Ocean groundswell. Out on the horizon, those islands gnawed at me as we steamed on by. Out there lay some unfinished business.
Second Time Lucky
Back in Sydney, I was now in the second year of Veterinary Medicine and Surgery at university, but was determined to fulfil the dream by returning to Indonesia, this time much better equipped and organized for the challenge of exploring the Mentawai islands.
From the middle of 1979, I began developing the plans together with Scott Wakefield, who was studying Economics at Sydney Uni. It became our obsession. Weekends digging through the Mitchell Library for anthropological accounts of the Mentawai revealed there was no cash economy and the only currency was bartering slabs of tobacco. Our information proved to be several decades out of date – rupiah were king and the kilos of tobacco we lugged around were only good as paperweights. We scouted through ship-merchants for high quality British Admiralty and Dutch East Indies maps of the islands and reefs. Survival handbooks were memorized, and pages of lists assembled detailing essential supplies for surviving weeks in the jungle.
We knew the Southern hemisphere autumn and winter is peak swell season for Indonesia, but there was zero information on winds and climate in the Mentawai. This was the era before satellite imagery and computer modelling. We chose May to coincide with a between-term university break of three weeks. It was clear we needed at least four weeks, so I took the calculated risk that by missing a genetics exam worth 30% I could still pass if I did well enough in the end-of-year exam. To finance the trip Scott was packing supermarket shelves at Woolies, and I was making backyard surfboards.
As plans developed, my cousin Tony Fitzpatrick joined the team. He had finished two years of studying medicine, but was planning to take a year off and travel. With the over-confidence of youth, we reasoned that two years of medical textbook knowledge was as good as having an emergency trauma surgeon on the expedition. Luckily none of us tested that assumption.
We set off from Sydney Airport on 26th April with two single-fins each and a mountain of medical and survival supplies packed into our backpacks. First we overnighted at the Jalan Jaksa youth hostel in Jakarta and then in Padang at the old Tiga Tiga hotel. Dressed in our Sunday best, sweltering but trying to stay cool, we went around in circles between the Padang offices of the army, navy and police: they were all very suspicious about why Australians would ever want to go to the Mentawai islands. When we initially tried to describe our plans to ride pieces of fibreglass on large waves over coral reefs, this was viewed as definitely something they couldn’t approve and would need to be referred to Jakarta. The solution turned out to be to say we only wished to “jalan jalan, lihat lihat” – to go sightseeing – which reassured them we weren’t spies but just crazy westerners.
Padang, Sumatra
Staying in Tiga-Tiga Hotel, got up at 7am and caught bemo to Teluk Bayur. Find out there’s a boat to Sikakap, Sioban and Sikabaluan leaving tonight.
Back in Padang, we change into good clothes and go to Police Headquarters to get a permit to travel around Sipura/Sipora (both spellings are used). They want to know why we’re going to the Mentawais on a business visa. We tell them about surfing. They don’t know what surfing is but they decide that we ought to get permission from Kantor Gub Autorita Mentawai up the road.
They in turn also don’t want to risk granting permission, and reckon we’ve got to have written permission from Jakarta – the Institute of Science, Head of Police, and Home Minister.
We go back to the police, who tell us we only need our passports to go there.Three hours left. A mad dash to change $200 in travellers cheques, post letters and buy a million things. Charter a minibus to Teluk Bayur for 1500rp, unloading all our stuff onto the dock.
The Balam (Prentiss Lines) looks like a refugee boat, overflowing with people and belongings. We rent a room from Indra, a crewmember, but only 2 beds. Tony cheats in picking straws, and I have to sleep on the floor. Scott cheated too.
Sikakap, Pagai Utara
Arrive at Sikakap, Pagai Utara about 8am. We make a quick decision to get off here if we can charter a boat. We quickly do – from a guy named Asril, for 15,000rp a day. So we spend the day walking from office to office, getting signatures for our form from the Kantor Wali Negeri. We also meet the pastor of the Catholic church, who lends us a mask and snorkel.
We stay the night at Asril’s house where we have an unreal traditional Minangkebau meal with rice, fish, chilli sauce, eggs, spicy vegetables and mango. After dinner we relax with Asril’s family and friends and have a cup of coffee.
Rainy at dawn, then thunderstorms, then clear arvo with west winds.
Sikakap to Sabeugukgung
We head out before dawn in a setting full moon. Asril’s worried that the waves are big. Pick up Rasid, who we find out later was told we were only going for two days, and head off downstream.
The day is clear and the wind light NE. Pass Pulau Siruso, our first perfect left pointbreak – it looks about 6-8ft and barrelling. The coast to Sabeugukgung is protected by funny reefs with shifting waves.
Author’s note: I have no recollection why we didn’t head straight for the 6-8ft left pointbreak. This is not a generally surfed spot nowadays, so perhaps it wasn’t as “perfect” as the diary records.
Come ashore at the house of Tuan Tambak. The kepala kampung (village head) doesn’t really seem to know what our form is for. After lunch, which Asril and Rasid cook, we go walkabout around the point looking for perfect righthanders, through swamp and across reef, only to be stopped by a razor-sharp reef. Scott would have kept going, but Tony and I turn back.
The wind switches from S to N as a thunderstorm hits, then glassy and calm all afternoon. Asril takes us around the bay looking at waves. He really seems to be coming to the conclusion that we’re lunatics. So on returning from our fruitless search, Scott and I go surfing on the beachbreak to show them how it’s done.
Author’s note: Ironically, during this “fruitless search” we spent a little while watching and even photographing a shallow left reefbreak in this bay that was too small on the day. That break is now known to be legendary with a big S swell, and goes by the name of “Greenbush”.
Sabeugukgung to Betumonga and Silabu
Set off at dawn for Betumonga. Rounding the last point, Tanjung Toitet, we’re looking into an unreal but sectioning 4-6 foot lefthander. The day’s clear and the wind light ENE. We jump off and surf the 4th bowl.
Scott surfs with typical zongo wave judgement and breaks his legrope. Then we paddle up to the 3rd bowl for a few larger and faster waves. Wind comes up light southerly, so we head back to the boat.
Travel up the coast to Teluk Pasongan. The left point looks promising – glassy, spiralling tubes – but we’re not so sure it’s rideable. The right point, Tanjung Sinjai, looks like an OK wave.
Author’s note: Interesting that we didn’t immediately recognize “Macaronis” as it is now called for the perfect wave it is. On this morning it was 6-8ft, thick southwest groundswell and low tide, with the Bommie in Pasongan bay breaking consistently. As I recall we were worried about the dredging reef being too shallow, and were probably focussed on the outside sections that are unmakeably fast.
The other side of Tanjung Sinjai is a long rolling left with some good-looking sections. The left point at the entry to Silabu looks good: an easy peeling sort of wave, 1-2ft when Betumonga is 3-4ft. A ledgy right guards the other side of the passage.
Pull up at Silabu Gedang (Besar), a beautiful lazy village. Too bad there’s no surf. Spend the afternoon trying to organize a trip to Sipura. All we come up with is a one-way trip to Pulau Siduomata (off Sipura) for 20,000rp, or a 2-way trip in a small “speedboat” for 1 day at 65,000rp!
A thunderstorm comes up about 2pm, but misses us, and the wind comes from the NE. Afternoon is calm and sunny. We sleep in the house, which is also a shop, upstairs.
Silabu Gedang
Head to Betumonga Pt at dawn. Surf’s 3-4ft and peeling. Everyone gets plenty of waves. Scott uses zongo judgement and takes the first set he sees halfway between bowl 4 and bowl 3, breaks his legrope, and has to swim all the way around the reef. The wind, which was light E, comes up from the S and we paddle back to the boat.
Decide to stay at Betumonga, in the little shop at the rivermouth there. Nice beach, lefthander at ‘Monga Pt looks good: a short peeling section into a nice shoulder for a cutback. Only 1-2ft today.
Eat lunch, give Paludrine pills to the mother with malaria, sit around during thunderstorm at midday, when wind temporarily switches northerly.
Afternoon we go to the Betumonga village to show our permit to the kepala kampung and give him ¼ slab of tobacco. Boat trip up the river was straight out of Apocalypse Now.
Load the boat in the late afternoon and head for Kasang, since there’s no way Asril will take the boat out if the swell comes up.Kasang is a cubby house in a swamp!
Kasang
Arise at dawn and head to the point, Rasid at the helm. Surf’s good but swell inconsistent and more from the west so it’s not lining up so good. Rasid disappears with the boat and we’re left out in the middle of nowhere in the heaviest bloody rainstorm. Start paddling back into the bay.
Rain stops, Asril returns with the boat, and we all head back for lunch. Rice and TVP (Sanitarium’s Textured Vegetable Protein) – a combo not fit for pigs but we’ve been eating it for lunch and dinner! Still, the coffee’s good.
Afternoon the wind comes up from the north (it was pretty calm till then), so we take the boat and Rasid to Pasongan. We see the house there, and how nice the beach is, and how good the left there really is, and how if we stay here we won’t have to go to church tomorrow and can surf instead. So we decide to stay here.
The right is looking good so we surf that. Cleanest, offshore, 5ft waves I’ve surfed for a while. Just long, fast, peeling walls. The reef slopes off very gradually, with shifty take-off spots.
Stay the night again in the swamp at Kasang. Plenty of rain during the night.
Kasang to Pasongan
Partly cloudy at dawn. We load the boat and head out for Pasongan. Wind is light NNE and swell seems bigger and stronger and more from the west.
Pasongan Point is pumping. We take a few pictures from the boat, unload our stuff to the dilapidated house at Puba Ruwayat, and head out. Paddle round the point and into the most perfect 3-5ft waves. Wind blowing into the tube, but no real problem. Reminiscent of Tamarin Bay only shorter, hollower and more bowling.
Tony cuts his back on the reef.
By midday the wind is too strong from the north and too choppy. Head in and fix up house with plastic tarps for walls, fix the floor, etc. Rain all night.
Author’s note: we stayed in a day-house belonging to a man named Martin. It’s a tiny hut in his coconut garden. To the east was the coconut garden and house of Seratubu, a teacher from Silabu, and his son Parmin. Martin still lives in Silabu. His children are now teachers in Silabu village, and Seratubu’s daughter is headmistress.
Pasongan
Wake at dawn and paddle out around the point after a cup of coffee. Wind is light offshore NE (timur laut), the sky is partly cloudy, and the swell up about 4-6ft with a few 7-footers. Scott and I the only ones out in perfect, barrelling waves. Unreal.
Tony walks around the point, followed by Asril. The tide is high and they’re keeping near the swamp. Tony plods along with camera gear, then notices Asril heading out to sea at a rate of knots. Apparently a 6ft crocodile had come out of the swamp about 15 feet behind Tony!
Wind turns calm, then SW, then freshens NW to W making surf too choppy. Come in to yet another meal of rice and TVP, although this time also with snails.
Spend the afternoon on the beach writing a letter. Rain and wind heavy at night.
Pasongan
Rain stops at dawn, but wind already blowing from NW and grey clouds scudding from W. Doesn’t look too promising. But wind soon drops to light NE and we paddle out. Swell less consistent – still 4-6ft and perfect. Surf till midday, when the wind comes onshore. Go in to a nice bowl of bubur rice porridge (2 grated coconuts, onions and rice), biscuits and coffee.
Very long and heavy rainstorm hits for about an hour at midday. Afterwards the wind is light easterly so we eat a couple of lollies and walk around the point.
The waves are classic: 3-6ft, low-tide cylinders. Glowing aquamarine waves and white spray, against a dark grey sky to the south. If only we had a water camera. Stay out till sunset, the wind eventually swinging light SW-NW, then back to N late. So many perfect waves….
Rain heavy again at night and into next morning.
Pasongan
Rain in morning and heavy cloud. Wind drops at dawn to light easterly. Walk around for a surf, but the wind overnight has churned up a NW surface chop and the lefts are a bit bumpy. It looks big and mean so we decide to give it a miss. Have breakfast and sit around for a while.
Go for a surf at 10am, as the wind has now turned SSE. The waves are still a bit bumpy, but classy and bowling around the inside. Surf for a couple hours, 3-5ft, till the S wind gets a bit too strong out at the take-off.
Pasongan
Wake early and head around. Tony brings camera. Sky is clear and the wind is calm – maybe a breath of offshore.
Swell’s a lot weaker, bit inconsistent, usually only 1 or 2 waves in a set instead of the 3-4 before. Still there are a few perfect glassy 3-5ft barrels, and we surf till the wind comes up SW-W at about 10:30 or so.
Later, at midday, Martin takes everyone on a walk to Silabu, the last leg by sampan. Wind is too strong for a surf in the arvo. A thunderstorm threatens, but nothing comes of it.
Pasongan back to Sikakap
Wind is light offshore, high cloud clearing, swell is weak 3-5ft from the south more. We leave, saying farewell to still perfect waves.
Betumonga is very small, too, and the swell irregular. Wind comes up light easterly in the straights. Heavy thunderstorm in the afternoon, which we miss by being out snorkelling with Father Pio, who gives us two rooms to stay in.
Eat that night at Asril’s. His wife has made a bit of a feast, including rendang and a vegetable dish that was a scorcher: “pedas sekali!!!”After dinner Asril drives us around to the Catholic school with all our stuff. An eerie night-time drive with the kero lamp hissing at the bow, nocturnal fish glinting in the sheet-of-glass water, and fleeting glimpses of small-town nightlife in Asia.
Sikakap
Sat around most of the morning, either at the shop eating fried bananas, biscuits and milk coffee, or in our rooms writing letters.
Chopped wood for Father Pio, like true Aussie timber cutters, in the afternoon. The boredom of waiting for a boat was beginning to get to us.
Sikakap
Grabbed a few fried bananas and jumped on the pastor’s boat to Beleraksok. Checked out the coast to the south. Wind light east, turned south later, and swell small with quite a surface chop. Nearly tipped over in the sampan which two girls ferried us ashore in. Went to church, introduced by Father Pio as student priests! Nearly fell asleep during the Mass: church is as boring as I remembered it. Afterwards, walked around the village, ate rice and Super-Mi, heard about run-ins between the villagers and the logging company, etc.
Probably an OK left point here when the swell is big. Today it’s tiny and we don’t bother surfing but go diving instead on the way back. I slept: think all the infections are taking their toll.
Eat at restaurant that night. No rain today.
Sikakap
Wake after a night where I really felt a bit sick, and ate brekky at the usual coffee spot. Bought some Rinso and Tony and I washed our clothes. Scott fixed dings, spilled resin all over himself, and timed it all perfectly with the schoolkids lunch-hour, attracting a huge audience.
Ate lunch at Asril’s, took photos of the family, etc. Asril’s wife sure can cook!
Helped Father Pio move some huge sections of a tree at high tide. Looked totally impossible, but that guy’s got a will and determination that is unbelievable. Amazingly, we got the logs out into deep water and floated them down to the church.
Tuesday, 13th May, 1980 – Pagai to Sipura: Asril drove us out to K.M Balam at 9:30am. Tony and I went ashore again to eat and buy food for Scott, and then we were off.
Wind was light NE, then northerly later in the afternoon. Swell seemed only small, but very long period. Apparently it was big, we heard later at Bosua.
Arrived in the evening at Sioban, got ripped off severely for the boat that ferried us ashore with Ronni, to the house of the wali negeri (state official), who was in Padang.
Saw the pastor, Father Petrus Grappoli, who recommended we steer clear of Ronni, gave us bread (REAL bread!!), wine, cheese and salami. He tried to set us up with a boat going to Bosua the next day, finding us a place to stay for the night.Sioban to Bosua, Island of Sipura
Had to do the rounds of reporting to all the officials again.
Basril, the guy who owned the boat, was looking impatient by the time we’d finished, and downright restless after we’d gone to a million shops for supplies. Set off finally at about 11am into a light SE wind (tenggara).
Author’s note: we passed Katiet at midday, and while there were small crumbly onshore waves breaking on the reef we didn’t see what we might have: the legendary righthander of Lance’s Right (or HT’s) would not be discovered until Lance Knight arrived 10 years later. A thunderstorm was brewing and Basril wasn’t up for detouring along the edge of the reefs as we rounded the SW end of Sipura. We passed straight by without seeing the excellent lefthander now known as Lance’s Left. Moral of the story: discoveries aren’t made when you’re in a hurry.
Arrived at Bosua just as the afternoon rain hit at 2pm Got soaked, carried our stuff to the house, had some tea. Cleared up later in the arvo, wind was light NW and swell about 6-7ft on the crummy reefs at Bosua.
Later we walked to Gobi and on to Teluk Pasir in hope of waves, through some beautiful gardens. Unreal place, perfect bays and close villages, but the reefs were all weird: submerged coast or something. Really disappointing. Wind turned W later.
Author’s note: had we continued on this path to the other end of the bay we would have seen Lance’s Left, and another 1km would have brought us to the beach at Lance’s Right where, by now, the wind would have swung offshore. So close yet so far.
Ate dinner prepared by Osmar’s wife, Osmar being the local Guru Agama Katolik (Catholic teacher). Tony wrecked his knee trying to sit cross-legged at dinner, and had cartilage damage during our little feast of biccies and Indomilk later, in the privacy of our own room.
Pagai to Sipura
Asril drove us out to K.M Balam at 9:30am. Tony and I went ashore again to eat and buy food for Scott, and then we were off.
Wind was light NE, then northerly later in the afternoon. Swell seemed only small, but very long period. Apparently it was big, we heard later at Bosua.
Arrived in the evening at Sioban, got ripped off severely for the boat that ferried us ashore with Ronni, to the house of the wali negeri (state official), who was in Padang.
Saw the pastor, Father Petrus Grappoli, who recommended we steer clear of Ronni, gave us bread (REAL bread!!), wine, cheese and salami. He tried to set us up with a boat going to Bosua the next day, finding us a place to stay for the night.
Sioban to Bosua, Island of Sipura
Had to do the rounds of reporting to all the officials again.
Basril, the guy who owned the boat, was looking impatient by the time we’d finished, and downright restless after we’d gone to a million shops for supplies. Set off finally at about 11am into a light SE wind (tenggara).
Author’s note: we passed Katiet at midday, and while there were small crumbly onshore waves breaking on the reef we didn’t see what we might have: the legendary righthander of Lance’s Right (or HT’s) would not be discovered until Lance Knight arrived 10 years later. A thunderstorm was brewing and Basril wasn’t up for detouring along the edge of the reefs as we rounded the SW end of Sipura. We passed straight by without seeing the excellent lefthander now known as Lance’s Left. Moral of the story: discoveries aren’t made when you’re in a hurry.
Arrived at Bosua just as the afternoon rain hit at 2pm Got soaked, carried our stuff to the house, had some tea. Cleared up later in the arvo, wind was light NW and swell about 6-7ft on the crummy reefs at Bosua.
Later we walked to Gobi and on to Teluk Pasir in hope of waves, through some beautiful gardens. Unreal place, perfect bays and close villages, but the reefs were all weird: submerged coast or something. Really disappointing. Wind turned W later.
Author’s note: had we continued on this path to the other end of the bay we would have seen Lance’s Left, and another 1km would have brought us to the beach at Lance’s Right where, by now, the wind would have swung offshore. So close yet so far.
Ate dinner prepared by Osmar’s wife, Osmar being the local Guru Agama Katolik (Catholic teacher). Tony wrecked his knee trying to sit cross-legged at dinner, and had cartilage damage during our little feast of biccies and Indomilk later, in the privacy of our own room.
Bosua
Woke and looked at the sea. Wind was already blowing from the south and cloudy. Had breakfast (boiled bananas and coffee) and went to church. Seats were hard and too low, and the service was as boring as ever – if not more so because they’re all EZONCS (Excessive Zeal Of the Newly Converted) and take it all deathly serious. Ate at Osmar’s house afterwards – another great meal of rice and keladi, fish and vegetables. Really good. Wind blew strong S all day, cloudy too. We went for a walk while the locals sat or played volleyball.
After another good meal that night, had a good session of language swapping.
Bosua to Siberimanua
Left with Basril at 8am, heading north. Wind already coming up light southerly, sky clear, swell still a bit bumpy at about 5-7ft. Wind became moderate S.
Stopped for late lunch of Super-Mi, rice and bananas in Sibetumonga. Headed on again past a few likely-looking reefs after the thunderstorm. Wind was now blowing NNE. Arrived at sunset at Siberimanua, where we stayed with a family of Minang descent but now 3rd generation Mentawai.
Ate well, rice, fish, coffee and tea. Slept on the porch.
Siberimanua to Sioban
Left soon after sunrise, after having to pay the lady an exorbitant 1500rp! Since they ripped us off for that, we told her brother he couldn’t be a passenger in our boat. There really was no room, only now we felt we had good right to refuse.
Wind was light ESE in the morning when we jumped in the boat at about 7:30. Floating in the water wiping the kerosene off my feet, I couldn’t help thinking about Asril’s stories about sharks in Sipura. The waves at what is now called 7 Palms Point were good, 4-5ft, some long walls, fairly powerful, ‘tho a bit inconsistent. Later the wind swings S and freshens, but the end sections still smooth and improves with the dropping tide. Good to be in the surf again!
Back on board, after two well fought-over cans of Indomilk, we go as far as an island off Tua Pejat. We stop for a surf in crummy waves, but aquarium conditions and lunch in a classic tropical coconut palm grove. Super-Mi for a main course with kelapa muda (young coconut) and sugar for dessert.
Author’s note: this surf spot is now called Icelands, and apparently only gets really good when huge. On the way there we also marked up on our maps a reef that had very small waves on the day, but looked like it would have Tamarin Bay-style perfection with a large west swell. That spot is now called Telescopes.
Go straight through to Sioban after lunch, arriving at sunset. Stay at the local PPA office. Basril wasn’t too happy about 30,000rp around the island! Fall asleep like a rock after a late dinner.
Sioban
Slept in, picked up our passports, hung out wet clothes, and went swimming. Sorted out who owes who what. Spend the afternoon at the eating-house on the water, with kopi susu and super-biscuits.
Had coffee and dinner with the secretary to the wali negeri and his wife. Food was unreal: potatoes cooked in margarine, potato-puffs with meat, fried noodles, etc. Easily the best meal so far.
After dinner, went to wali negeri’s house and watched Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea on the television, and talked. The wali gave us a map of Sipura: an unreal one.
Wind fresh from the south today.
Sipora to Pagai
Wind SW-S today, and half cloudy. Posted my letter after breakfast at the secretary’s house (meat and eggs!).
Boat left at 12 noon. Swell large and a sea running from the south. All the women got sick when we went between the islands, and managed to spew in the most strategic places. There was spew everywhere – in the toilet, on the deck, on the stairs, and even over the railing.
Huge thunderstorm and wind hit about 2:30-3pm. Arrived in Sikakap late afternoon. Asril didn’t bring his boat, but met us on deck. Stayed at Asril’s that night: great meal with dishes including potatoes and little fried fish.
Went first to the timber company and saw Mr Hans, a German now resident of Australia, who works as chief mechanic there, has a “girlfriend” in Bangkok, etc. “No chance” of getting on the company plane with surfboards.
Sikakap
Wind fresh SE-S, no rain although cloud in arvo.
Drove Tony to the boat this morning, said farewells, etc., including making him promise not to tell a soul about Pasongan. The third horn sounded, and he was off towards the next chapter of his journey.
Scott and I were covering old ground waiting for Pak Wali to show up so we could get another letter full of stamps, etc. Didn’t take so long this time, though he didn’t show up for work till 10, on account of some Indonesian official parade, which gave us time to go see Father Pio. Father Pio was his usual jolly self, which caught us in the nick of time from sinking into depression. When we set off again I felt fresh and light-hearted again: essential for red-tape hassles.
With completed form, we went back to Asril’s for a nice lunch. Afternoon I wrote letters, bought bananas (4.5rp each), etc. Dinner at Asril’s, then slept.Sikakap to Pasongan
Woke by alarm at 4am. Sky was dark and clear, wind light. Boat and Tiar arrived at 4:30 (rubber time) and we were off. The boat was slow, and a small SSE chop really upset Tiar, who obviously wasn’t used to open ocean.
Arrived at Pasongan about 7:30. Beautiful morning with blue sky and water clear, wind light SSE, and so peaceful once the boat left. Swell unfortunately was a weak 1-3ft.
Spent the morning organizing the house and belongings, getting water, went snorkelling. Plenty of big fish straight out, too bad we don’t have a speargun. Lay on the beach. We also discovered that badar kering (dried minnows) are shithouse. “Not those little fish again?!”
With only two people here – Scott and I – the local wildlife was a lot more adventurous: a lot more noises from the jungle at night, and a running battle with the squirrels, which keep stealing food at night.
Pasongan
Wind light early, waves 2-4ft and a bit weak and bumpy, but still good. Wind comes up a bit from the S at about 7am, but backs off.
We see four sharks (4ft reef sharks I assume) and paddle in. They were swimming in the face of the waves, just near the impact zone. Paddle out after half an hour: waves OK and good to be in the surf again. Surf 'til midday, then come in and make lunch.
Afternoon we just sit around talking, reading and drawing. Wind freshens from the south later. No rain. Tried fishing after dinner: boring.
Pasongan
Wind light offshore at dawn, with some fairly dense high cloud around. Surf still only 2-3-4ft, a bit lumpy, but very glassy and good fun. Wind flukes between SSE and E til 2pm, then comes moderate S. Some heavy clouds threatened to rain, but nothing comes of it. Bloody hot day.
Had more bloody little fish fried with onions and peanuts again, added to Super-Mi and Scott’s keladi balls. Not too bad, at least this one was edible.
Washed our hair this afternoon: first time in four weeks. I also squeezed out the pus from the zillion little infected cuts and mozzie bites.
Pasongan
Glassy at dawn today, and swell very straight with more power. Wind stayed offshore or glassy till noon or so, and we surfed till then. Three to four foot and some perfect and very hollow waves. A good surf.
Some high cloud, wind finally came up southerly, but never got very fresh. Scott saw the sharks again, but this time the surf was too good to go in. We just didn’t sit up on our boards for a while. Later, I get a wave and line up the tube. Scott’s paddling out and it seems as if he’s staring awfully hard at me. I keep going along in the tube and fall off just as I’m coming out. Scott’s right there looking a bit worried. Apparently there was a shark skimming along inside the wave about five feet ahead of me, and when I fell off Scott thought I’d had it. Later, Scott sees a shark surface about 10 yards out the back, but it’s heading out to sea, and the surf’s still really good, so we stay out.
Exhausted, after lunch of noodles, fried rice and TVP, sleep on the beach having already washed and squeezed pus from the zillion cuts.
Scott is up at the swamp, standing on a log naked and brushing his teeth, when two Mentawai men from Tatiri paddle round the corner in a sampan. Scott sees them and jumps into the bushes. They see Scott, their first view of a white man, and head back out to sea at a rate of knots. God only knows what sort of ghost or spirit from the swamp they thought they’d seen, but judging from the shaky way they paddled that sampan back I’ll bet there were some lively stories in Tatiri tonight.
Pasongan
Surf was really flat today: 1-3ft and inconsistent (ie 15 minute waits or longer). Wind light offshore from the east, then glassy, then light SSE Thunderstorm at 11, glassy surf in afternoon when we went round the point to fibreglass a memento of our stay here. It read like this:
Australian expedition to the Mentawais, first surfed here May 1980 by:
Scott Wakefield: The surf’s bloody perfect but the regular drop-ins by the sharks worried me a bit ‘tho. It was no pleasure cruise.
Tony Fitzpatrick: I didn’t fancy getting chased by the crocodile from the swamp behind the point – a lot of hassle just for a surf!
Chris Goodnow: I’m complaining to the North Pagai County Council about the shocking living conditions and lack of seating arrangements!
All from Sydney, Australia
Then went for a nice, easy afternoon surf. Came in at sunset and got totally ravaged by clouds of little biting sandflies. Ran across the rocks and home to dinner of fried rice and keladi chips.
Pasongan to Sikakap
Woke to find the surf was even smaller. Didn’t even bother to go surfing. Packed up, leaving wok, pots and pans, plates and cups to Martin along with a note saying thanks.
Tiar arrived soon enough with the boat, and we left as the wind began to freshen from the north. Out on the ocean the swell was larger, maybe 3-5ft. Seems it was so much from the west that Tanjung Sinjai was blocking it from Pasongan. Maybe we should have gone and looked at the little point at Silabu. Next time!
Betumonga had some fairly good waves breaking hard around bowl #4, which was as big as bowls 3, 2 or 1: an indication of the west in the swell.
Back in Sikakap we picked up our passports. Got a lift across to K.V. Bella, a huge timber cargo ship in port at the lumber company.
The captain was a jolly Israeli who thought our being “tourists in the Mentawais” was the funniest joke he’d heard in years. He gave us cold, Californian soft drinks out of the fridge, and salted almonds, and offered us a free ride to Padang.
Ate lunch (another great meal) at Asril’s, gave him jerry cans and left over food, etc. Said goodbyes to all the family, and headed off to the ship.Ate dinner on the ship: steak, tomatoes, onions, peas, bread. Unreal! Kept our heads down as all-out war erupted in the ship’s mess hall between a crew of 7ft tall Nigerians who swarmed in on the cook with some complaint about the food. Next thing the Nigerians are being pursued by the little Chinese cook, waving a massive meat cleaver. We just keep eating and hope we survive the trip.
Slept that night on the floor of the officer’s mess.
Padang to Jakarta
Arrived at dawn to a wet Teluk Bayur, wind from the west, fishing boats chugging and rocking to safety. Unloaded ourselves, with the Indonesian crew of stevedores, into a tiny covered boat. Got soaked by rain.
Arrived at Tabing airport smelly, wet, dirty, wearing boardshorts and raincoat. Disapproving looks from fellow travellers, but in 10 minutes we board the plane. Cloud seems heavy all along the west coast of Sumatra as we fly to Jakarta.
From 1980 to present day
When we returned to Sydney, everyone we surfed with at Manly and Curl Curl beaches knew where we’d gone and wanted to know what the surf was like. We resisted the temptation to boast and stuck to “a few waves, nothing to write home about, and shocking living conditions”. This decision was made while Scott, Tony and I were in Sipura because we could not see a way to expose the region’s waves for the benefit and not the harm of the wonderful people of Silabu and other villages around Macaronis.
We were acutely aware that these people had already suffered a great deal of adverse change. At the start of the 20th century Western missionaries arrived and taught them that, in addition to the hundreds of ocean and jungle deities they already feared, there was an additional almighty god whose son had died for their sins. With the formation of the Indonesian Republic, its Java-based government forced the Pagai people to live in policeable villages near the coast, and abandon a thousand-year old lifestyle that kept them deep in the jungle and safe from the region’s devastating tsunamis. Once they were shifted out of the forest, the logging company had set up a factory in Sikakap and was in the midst of clear-felling the Pagai islands when we arrived in 1980. I’d seen the “gold rush” that descended on Nias after Erik Aeder’s photos were published, and the last thing the Pagai people needed was the arrival of hordes of surf nazis.
There is an Indonesian saying that translates as: “To step on a man’s ground, to break his twigs, you must understand his culture”. We figured that if we resisted the exposure that occurred in Nias then, at least for some time, the only other surfers that walked on the twigs around Silabu would also have done their cultural homework. We told Martin, our host, that his village was sitting on a gold mine and that one day people from around the world would want to come ride its’ waves, but whether or not that was a good thing would depend upon how it could be managed.
Remarkably the secret held without a leak for more than a decade. I returned to Pasongan/Macaronis for several weeks in May 1981 with Tim Annand, a fellow veterinary medicine student from Sydney. But the four of us soon became busy with other challenges, and anyway we swore we’d never go back unless it was with a boat that had a fridge!
Who was the next to arrive, and who gave Pasongan its current name of Macaronis, remains unrecorded. I’ve heard that a surfer, possibly Peter Reeves from Newcastle, NSW who had spent a lot of time at Lagundri in Nias in the ’80s, was camping and surfing there towards the end of the decade when Martin Daly turned up in his salvage boat and asked what the spot was called. Reeves was eating a bowl of macaroni and said “Macaronis”. In March 1991, Lance Knight was out surfing at Katiet in Sipura when Martin Daly arrived there, giving it the name of Lance’s Right.
Rip Curl’s 1992 Search video shot from Daly’s boat started the gold rush of Mentawai surf-charters. I was running a research lab at Stanford University in California by that time, but while in Sydney for Christmas I dropped in at the surf shop of an old friend, Julian Taylor. Up on the screen was footage of Tommy Carroll surfing a perfect lefthander I recognized immediately. Asking Julian where it was shot he replied, “Oh you won’t know, Chris, its some ultra-secret new spot”. I laughed and said, “I think I do know”.
Scott and I returned to Macaronis in July 1996 with a group of Sydney friends aboard the yacht Katika, skippered by the wise John “Bucket” McGroder. The good news was that we were out of the jungle away from the malarious mosquitoes, and we had a fridge. But by then there were usually 1 or 2 other boats anchored off the break plus a few tents in Martin’s coconut garden in the bay.
Scott, Tony, Tim and I returned again with our families in 2013 as guests of Macaronis Resort on the other side of Pasongan Bay. With a swimming pool, air conditioning and a fridge (of course!), our living conditions had certainly improved. We caught up with Martin in Silabu, who like us is now in his fifties with grey hair, his kids proudly expanding the family teaching tradition. The village of Silabu has grown a little, the kids are better nourished, and there is intermittent electricity from a generator and a little income flowing from the resort.
Out in the Bay there are always between 2 and 6 surf charter boats at anchor, and the postage stamp-sized take-off spot was always packed as densely as pictures you see of the Superbank. As our teenage sons pointed out, the line-up was way more crowded than any of the waves we surf at home, and much more tense. More than 60 surf-charter boats are now heavily overfishing the wave resource at Macaronis. Some contribute a tiny mooring fee to Silabu village, but many refuse even to do that. Looking at the packed line-up of surfers and boats, Joni Mitchell’s 1960’s verse popped into my head: “take paradise, put up a parking lot”.
The Future
On an optimistic day I can imagine Macaronis not as a parking lot, but managed as a sustainable resource: a destination that remains attractive with an openly accessible waiting list and a finite number of surfers at any one time, each paying a substantial daily fee into a trust that funds education, medical services and infrastructure for the Pagai villages. If surfers could achieve that goal we would avoid following the surfing “race to the bottom” that unfolded in Nias, or the pattern set by the logging companies in the Mentawais.