‘Twas Just a Dream – Part Three

Even with a two-scoop rule attached to the rinsing water we were out so journeyed to Poochang Island to re-stock, via a peaky left breaking on the mainland named Angels.

Manto said he’d named the break so I asked why he described it so.

He replied: “It’s a beautiful area.”

And it was.

We perhaps disrespectfully surfed it all at once while at least half-drunk on Bintangs.

After cooking and eating most of a good size mackerel caught earlier in the day on the island, we camped within its bay on board Just Dreaming.

I walked up and down the beach that was greeting holidaying Indonesians, puzzling at my inability to avoid swaying like a drunken pirate from too many days at sea.

We woke Friday covered in mosquito bites despite drenching ourselves in repellant the night before, and headed to Rangers.

Think of Rangers – which sits near a ranger station – as Croc’s opposite: a long right hander on Panaitan’s outside eastern shore that was on this day blown out, and a short, punchy left that was presently breaking strong but briefly.

While journeying back around into the bay we were all conscious of our fish-deprived stomachs due to an incredible lack of bites considering the constant trawling of both a deep-diving and surface-skimming lure.

At the island’s southern tip named Pinnacles, strewn with jagged rock rising from the sea, one of us finally hooked a 15kg Spanish mackerel which was gaffed by Civvy just as it spat out the lure after a 20 minute battle.

It was enjoyed as sashimi with some laughs, beers and a delicious sauce I think may have simply been soy.

We made a bee-line back to Indies where the wave had reached the height of perfection and was even throwing some lips over anyone lucky enough.

In shifts we all attacked it savagely with fore and backhand, depending on our styles, re-entries until our abdominal muscles could pivot no longer.

Huey the surf god had all but abandoned us on Saturday, so we returned to Pussies.

Oh, sorry: Pussies is a deeper water and consequently full but long left breaking just west of Napalms, that we surfed on the first Saturday straight after “Napes”.

We’d finished the story more or less the way it had started, only this time there was a fisherman’s boat carrying six Indonesian male and two Scandinavian female surfers there to join us.


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