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NORTH AMERICAS WINDSURFING MAGAZINE

WIN A CONTOUR HD VIDEO CAMERA WITH WATERPROOF CASE PG. 32

EXPEDITIONINDONESIA

ANDREPASKOWSKIINTERVIEW

THE BONAIREKIDS AREALRIGHT

+ WE TEST 17 NEW HIGHWINDBOARDS AND SAILS!

WITH GUESTEDITOR JACEPANEBIANCO

SCAN WITH YOURSMARTPHONE TO

SEE MANU IN INDOSEE PG.

DISPLAYU

NTILJUNE,

SPRING

WINDSPORT.COM

.US

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AN ADVENTURE DISCOVERING NEW WAVES

EXPEDITION

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Cooking at sea.

Gathering seaweed.

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AND EXPERIENCING NEW CULTURES

INDONESIA

WORDS AND PHOTOS BY BENJAMIN OUARD

windsport 65

Local sport.

Waves behind the seaweed farm.

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My only knowledge of Indonesia came from a surf videofilmed there, in which Gerry Lopez got his first barrelsat G-Land and Rob Machado rode the seemingly end-less waves of beautiful blue-green water. But now I getto join some of the Oxbow Team, composed of Manu

Bouvet, Carine Camboulives and their daughter, Lou, to explore the Indo-

nesian islands and satisfy my thirst for this famous surfing spot.We arrive in Western Timor, the starting point for our epic two-monthtrip, situated at the extreme east of Indonesia. Aer the first fewdays, during which we could inspect the surroundings and learn a fewIndonesian words that will save us, the swell takes its course and mydreams become reality. Adjusted to perfection, the machine begins itswork drawing lines of endless breaking waves. The end-of-day lightingfrom behind the waves turns the water a turquoise colour, and the windis perfectside-off and non-stop. We have found a hidden paradise.

With the reef located about a half-mile from shore, finding a boatstands as the best way to approach these green lines that the oceanhas formed. As with every trip I go on with Manu, he finds the bestboat and driver around. Anus is the captain of a large fishing boatpropelled from below by a roaring car engine in the hold. Every timeit sounds like a helicopter is about to pass over our heads, we knowAnus is arriving to pick us up. The only thing lacking was a reversegear, meaning the ship has to remain anchored away on the breaksshoulder, making my work as photographer a little difficult since myonly way to take dry shots is by free-handing my 600mm lens (theres

no possible way of using a tripod from the boat). Its like taking a 20-pound weight, holding it at arms length and trying not to tremble inany way. Even though the pictures of the first waves are promising, Iquickly have the desire to jump in the water and shoot from up close.

There is nothing like partaking in the local Bintang beer while enjoyingthe sunset at days end. During these moments of solace, the tide is low;

small pools of water form amongst the exposed coral in which strangeshapes loom. The shapes are men and women carrying baskets aachedto each end of a plank propped on their shouldersthe seaweed farm-ers are out taking care of their marine farms. They hang algae fromlines to help it grow, and, once mature, its gathered, brought back to thebeach and sorted, depending, whether its green or brown. The still-greenalgae are spread over large sheets placed on the beach to dry.In the end, it will all be exported to Japan or China in order to extract avital gelatin used in the food and cosmetics industries.

During this tidal cycle, we soon find ourselves unable to the boat,forcing us to walk. The half-mile hike carrying windsurfing and photogear seems incredibly long, but compared to the weight of the farmersalgae baskets filled with water, I dont dare complain. Plus, these longwalks give us a good look at their work and an understanding of thetechnique and operation involved.

But even in this paradise, we cant remain content. The call of adven-ture forces us, once again, to move on to find the best wave of Indo thatsnever, ever been surfed! This is why Manu has organized a trip aboard aboat, in order to continue our voyage through Indonesia.

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Manu looks for the lip.

Evening fun. Carine freeriding.Anus boat.

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ADJUSTED TO

PERFECTION,E MACHINEBEGINS ITS

WORKDRAWING

LINES OFENDLESS

BREAKING

WAVES.

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Our evening view.

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With its 60-foot planks of Indonesian wood, a ship thatlooks like a worthy pirate vessel anchors in our lilebay, waiting for us to begin the next leg of our journey. Icant help but think of the recent real-life pirate storiesthat currently haunt the region... just last September, a

Japanese vessel carrying chemicals was aacked and robbed.We board the boat with all our gear, and are excited by the arrange-

ment of our new living quarters. Our captain, Xavier, gives us the grandtour, and soon we find ourselves with sails raised for the first nightsopen-water crossing. The excitement of this new adventure keeps mefrom sleeping, so I take the opportunity to get acquainted with the

ships crew members,Yann and Michael. Wecruise straight westunder a sparkling sky andslow-rising moon. I getlost in my thoughts, leav-ing Yann to his job.

Passing a series of de-serted islands with wildcoastlines, further studyof our map reveals thesemblance of a wave that

appears on the horizon.Is it just a mirage wave,or the spot weve beensearching for? Everythingon the map indicates thepossibility of a perfectsetup. The closer weget, the beer it looks.Suddenly, as we finally ar-rive, at least a dozen finssurface before us, rightat the peak of where thewave is breaking. Silencebrought on by fear and

curiosity seles over us all, as the reality sets in of possibly surfingthis shark-infested reef break. Its still early, so we anchor the boat onthe shoulder and wait for the wind to pick up, just watching the waves.The sets roll in one aer another, with a glassy perfection in the morn-ings still air. Its like the wave is taunting us with its riderless tubes. Butwhat can we do? Screw it, lets go!

Manu is the most impatient and jumps into the water first on his

stand-up paddleboard. I look over at Jace Panebiancoour camera-man who joined us for this part of the tripand without too muchthought, we jumped into the water with the camera. I cant believewe have this magical place with perfect waves all to ourselves. AsI get close to the peak, Manu yells, There are dozens of fins justbehind the peakits freaking scary! I feel pretty tense as easyprey, kicking around with my swim fins taking photos. Just beforewe decide to return to the boat, Manu shouts to us that they areactually huge manta rays, with some measuring over 15 feet across.Swimming in for a closer look, we end up in the middle of a bunch ofthese huge rays playing in the swell.

Carried by the emotion of sharing the water with such amazingcreatures, we enjoy a good windsurfing session before tackling a newnight of crossing. Like most mornings, the wind begins to develop aera dozen hours of navigation and a few hours of sleep. Its the idealopportunity to test the capabilities of our boat. Captain Xavier admits

to us that he had just put this boat in the water for the first time a fewhours before our departure, and was actually finishing the final paintingwhile en route. Honoured to be its first guests, we are more than happyto share in the baptism. The wood creaks under the pressure as weaccelerate to nine 10 and, finally, 10.9 knots. Proud of this, his fourthhelm, Captain Xavier takes us to our next spot.

The swell finally drops, allowing us to anchor in a large bay. It looks likewell be able to get a good, calm nights sleep. Well also be able to get onland for the first time since seing sail. Aer a short tour of a small townand meeting the nice locals, Manu, Carine and Lou decide to sleep at thehouse of a gracious family. Lou immediately becomes very popular withthe other kids by sharing her trip stories in English and French, and all thetime bursting with laughter. All the kids have big smiles on their faces,whether they understand what she is saying or not.

SILENCE

BROUGHT ON

BY FEAR AND

CURIOSITY

SETTLES OVER

US ALL AS E

REALITY SETS IN

OF POSSIBLY

SURNG IS

SHARKINFEST

ED REEF BREAK.

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Manu boom-turning.

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The swell remains small for a while, but the offshore wind is blowing,

and the bay offers a perfect playground for freeride windsurfing. Carineblasts around the boat for a while in a picturesque seing of white sandand coconut trees. The backdrop is definitely paradise, with the sunshining and no one else around to disturb us.

In the morning, we awake to the boat pulling on its mooring: a windswell has arrived, dragging behind it a li ne of white caps. We hurry up thecoast to a spot Xavier suggests, and arrive to swell wrapping around areef. Despite the wind being gusty and an inconsistent wind swell, wescore a money session. But it ended, suddenly, as Manu is washed over ashallow reef by the wave-of-the-day, tearing his sail.

Back on board, our departure time comes and we embark on our finalIndonesian run, but in a more raging sea than usual. With a big wind-

swell hiing us from the side and wind gusting to 35 knots, the boat

is pitching and making creaking sounds like weve never heard before.The hull stabilizers (small rudders on the side) help us keep our course,despite the mountains of water through which we are sailing. Leavingthe coastline, the groaning of the wood under the strain of rough seasgrows louder until, suddenly, a stabilizer breaks. With Xavier at thehelm, Yann grabs the tool box to reaach the stabilizer with a hammerand nails. Next time youre on a boat, try to imagine hiing a nail with ahammer, let alone doing it in 12-foot seas. A few hammer shots later, theproblem is fixed and we finish our journey safely.

Its time to move on to the final stage of our adventure. Luckily, we get toenjoy a hotel room with hot water for the first time since we embarked onthe triplikely our last before returning home again.

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A sheltered bay.

Life in paradise. Giant manta ray.

On board.

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T

raveling in Indo, especially to a place as removed as our nextstop, Papua New Guinea, its critical to learn to stay cool andcalm. Just geing there, we had to deal with cancelled flights,chartering planes and countless unexpected travel problems,all on next-to-no sleep. Upon arrival, we join our guide, Mr.

Kelly, and climb aboard a boat that will allow us to trek upriver to our

hosts: a local tribe discovered only last October.We stop at the last available village for a night, before we disappearinto the thick jungle. Its an interesting stopover, in which we have to givemoney to the local police controlling the area.

The next morning, we get back on the narrowing river, concentrat-ing on avoiding the numerous partially submerged logs. The sights andsounds of the wildlife around us, including gigantic bats, crocodiles andrare birds, creates an atmosphere of true exploration.

The first step onto the muddy bank immediately cakes our legs in greyup to the knee, while one of our guides excitedly shows us a bright greensnake he has just killed with a stick a snake that, if it bites you, cancause death within minutes. Welcome to the jungle!

Warned of the presence of leeches, snakes, spiders, mosquitoes andother insects, pants and long sleeves are seriously recommended. Withinminutes of reaching shore, our guides start clearing trees, and a camp issuddenly built before our very eyes. As we sele in, we begin to noticesome of the native tribes people peering at us through the foliage.

Aer embedding ourselves in their territory, its time to go and payour respects to the host tribe. We proceed hesitantly, knowing only twowords of their language, filled with feelings of curiosity, fear, and joy to behaving the rare experience of meeting people of such an untouched cul-ture. The tribes people are dressed wearing simple fabric and palm-treebranches around their waists, and all have headdresses of bird feathers

and noses pierced with bone. We shake their hands, while a strange andsort of embarrassing atmosphere floats between them and our team. Nowords are exchanged, even amongst the tribes people themselves.

While admiring their dress, complete with bows and arrows slung totheir backs, our outfits in this seing must make us look like aliens. Thedifferences are so large that the curiosity from both parties is obvi-ous. Aer being welcomed, Mr. Kelly tries to share our names with thetribes chief, but the sound and pronunciat ion makes it diffi cult for him.Gradually, aer several minutes of observation, a more seled feelingspreads through the camp. Watching them engage in the constructionof an additional hut helps us begin to understand their relationship withnature. They use all the jungle provides for clothing, shelter and food.

Wanting to learn more about their culture, we ask them to show ushow they prepare and cook one of their staple foods known as sago. Asago palm-tree is cut down and fied with spikes in order to break andremove the bark to reach the centre. A stick tool is used to shred theentire interior of the tree into small chips, which are transported to the

WE PROCEED HESITANTLY, LLEDWI FEELINGS OF CURIOSITY, FEARAND JOY TO BE HAVING E RARE

EXPERIENCE OF MEETING PEOPLE OFSUCH AN UNTOUCHED CULTURE.

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Dancing.

The river.

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Manu drops in.

Making cloth. What are yo u doing with yo ur hand?

Lou gives a gi.

Happy kids.

Ouch!

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edge of the river where women mix them with water for hours to get areddish juice. This juice is recovered using large containers made fromthe bark of a tree, and allowed to sit until a paste-like deposit forms atthe boom. Once removed, this dough is then cooked on the fire andserved to eat. It doesnt really have much taste; its rather sticky and notvery appetizing, but it is a very important part of the local diet.

Aer a night of pouring rain, our second and final day with the tribewill have them showing us their technique for making cloth from tree

bark. With care, they cut the bark off a fallen tree without breaking it. Itsbrought back to camp where the women bend the bark in every directionand hammer it to make it soer. Aer hours of this labour, the barkbecomes flexible and as so as chamois skinthis is what they weararound their waist. Wanting Carine and Lou to enjoy the fruits of their la-bor, they encourage them to don the local garb. The smiles on everyonesfaces show the joy of the women in sharing their culture.

Its now our turn to tell them a lile bit about our passion. Manubrings out his board and paddle and demonstrates, on the river, his wayof his paddling, though Im not sure they really understand what stand-up paddling is until we show them pictures from a magazine. Theystand gaping at the pictures in amazement.

Next, its my turn to explain what these objects are that I keep point-ing at their faces. I photograph the face of one of them and show it to himon the cameras small LCD display. To my surprise, he has no reaction. Itake a picture of his fri end and show him again, and he suddenly breaks

out in laughter. They simply have no idea of their own faces. Mr. Kellylater explains to me that the only idea they have of themselves is fromthe reflection in the puddles aer a rainstorm.

The time has come for our departure. Lou is still playing with thelocal kids, and despite spending only 48 hours here, its hard to think ofleaving. We say goodbye to the whole tribe, and they launch into a dancewith a hypnotic chant. We board our lile boat and wave while returningback downriver from where we came.

After several more travel horrors, we finally arri ve safely homefrom a two-month adventure we will never forget. The question is:how do you return to a normal, modern lifestyle after such an authen-tic and exotic experience?

The tribe.

Local tribesman.

Can I take your photo?