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