-
54. “Indonesia: Just Another Paradise” (1979)
- University of Hawai'i Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
chapter 54 “Indonesia: Just Another Paradise” (1979) Erik Aeder 1955– Erik Aeder, a photographer at Surfer since the late 1970s, introduced the 1980s version of Cape St. Francis (from The Endless Summer) to most of the surfing world, “a fabled perfect right point break” called Nias in the wave-rich region of Indonesia. An entire industry has since developed around surfing in the area—surf shops, pro contests, yacht tours, media promotions, travel packages, private surf camps—inundating this latest Mecca with surfers trying to fulfill the dream of finding the perfect, uncrowded wave. Beyond the discomforts and dangers expected in such narratives since the days of Naughton and Peterson, amenities to Aeder’s dream include the same ideals that drew travelers to the Hawaiian Islands in the nineteenth century: the sensual experience of life pared down to the basics, the friendly welcome of curious natives, and the exotic allure of island women. Rather than ending, like Naughton and Peterson, with the continuing search for another perfect wave, Aeder returns from his surreal experience in a tropical daze, completely sated on paradise. Dream Wave Discoveries in the World’s Largest Tropical Archipelago As soon as the Thai Airlines 707 left the ground, my friend Mark Oswin and I each stretched out on some empty seats to catch up on some very needed sleep. As I drifted off, I dreamed of a beautiful stewardess laying a blanket over me, which I pulled around my neck and fell deeper to sleep. We were landing sooner than I expected and switching planes to a small twelve-seater, which would take us a bit nearer our destination. After an hour’s flight, we landed at the village from which we would catch a boat the following day to the other side of the island. The morning broke clear, and we were soon chugging along, the diesel engine hammering into my head even after I stuffed my ears with cotton. After eight hours, the boat docked in a small village, and we quick221 ly found the local accommodations, and I attempted to sleep except for the ringing in my ears. The next morning the coconut truck drove us up to another village for the final leg of our trip to a fabled perfect right point break. A hired fisherman was soon paddling us down a river that slid noiselessly through the tangle of bush at its edges. We approached a large hill that the river seemed to flow directly through and then the cave appeared. Dripping, jagged teeth cluttered its yawn which the boat was drawn to. We passed slowly through the cavity, ducking and pushing the hanging pinnacles until we emerged into flat water at the mouth of the river. There all my imaginings solidified as a set swept across the reef outside. I nearly fell out of the boat in excitement, and couldn’t get dropped on the beach quick enough to stash my belongings in the village and head for the point with my board. Life in the village became a routine of surfing in the morning, then eating, reading, writing, napping and surfing again in the evening. An incredibly simple existence revolving around how much energy we had to surf. Since there was little else to do and we were heading inland after we left there, surf was about all we did. The weather didn’t assist my photography, being nearly always overcast or rainy, and I was convinced the area wasn’t meant to be photographed for fear of exposure, with easy justification. The family with whom we stayed had a young boy, Johnny, who would greet us with “Gidday mate.” The Aussies had taught him well. He was like a monkey, and would raid our food supply or get into anything his curiosity might compel him to. They also had a beautiful 13-year-old daughter who I fell foolishly in love with, and who could persuade me out of anything with one of her flirting smiles and long, deep looks. The father asks with sign language if I’ve brought any gunja with me, and I tell him unfortunately not. He shakes his head, too bad, and offers me a beetle nut instead. The sisters prepared all our meals, which consisted almost entirely of rice. Luckily, we had brought some essentials like peanut butter, honey, raisins, dried apricots and a tin of Milo chocolate mix. The peanut butter and honey went well on the coconut bread they baked...