Garuda Indonesia Colours Magazine November 2016 | Page 116

114 Travel | Flores to Alor © Narina Exelby Only in Indonesia could a wave this perfect have remained undiscovered. There’s an air of mystery waking in a boat that you never find on land. Every day is a brand-new experience, and you rarely know exactly what you’ll wake to see when the sun rises. tucked into a large but sheltered bay to the east of Alor Island, and I was surprised that Indonesia’s predominantly southern swell would reach this location. The gentle sway of the boat had rocked me to sleep, but it was the dawn light playing like a mirage on the teak ceiling that woke me with a feeling of delicious anticipation for the day ahead. It had already been dark when we’d anchored and I was curious to see where we were. “Look at that!” said a voice at my shoulder. “Sick, bro!” The deck was already warm under my bare feet when I stepped out, clutching a mug of cappuccino, to take in the view. On the western horizon I could see the volcanoes of Flores reflecting the gold of the early sun, and to the east was a picture-postcard landscape with a palm-fringed beach protected by a sun-dappled lagoon. With a nod of approval, the dreadlocked Hawaiian Akoni Kama smiled as he wordlessly offered me a set of binoculars. I scanned the shoreline in the direction they were pointing and instantly understood their excitement. As a surfer, however, my eyes and ears were drawn to the rumble of waves breaking over the submerged reef. Mark Robba, Dunia Baru’s owner, had pin-pointed our location on the charts when we arrived; we were It was Californian surfer Andre Emery, clutching his own coffee and talking with an enthusiasm that seemed inappropriately at odds with the early hour. Along the distant curve of the reef I could see the shadow-line of a wave starting to form. It darkened as it rumbled into shallower water, and seemed to heave itself up, and suddenly I was looking straight into the end of an almond-shaped barrel that reeled with machine-like precision straight