on my way back to Bali bandaged up
Tim Barton, Nick Summerton, Indo bloke, Al Hardy, John Gilespie
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Desert point the hard way
In memory of my best mate Bob
Nick Summerton – ‘Bloody good award’
It was our first surf trip out of the country. We headed to Bali (1985) or to be
exact Lombok (Desert Point). We started the mission by catching a ferry to Lombok
where we hitched a ride on a truck, there were five of us, Bob, Al, Tim and myself
Nick. Because it was over 20 years ago there were no roads all the way to DP. So
once we had passed through many villages there was plenty of hiking ahead. Took
us about two days to get there going through thick bush. Finally we made it to DP
where the surf is about 3-4 foot, glassy and perfect with not a soul in sight. We
set up camp and started thinking about heading out, since I had only been surfing
for 2 years I was a bit hesitant about surfing on razor sharp reefs. After watching
Tim and Bob for about 15 mins I thought fack it, I’ll be sweet, I’ll just be choosy
on my wave selection and take it easy on my 5’10. Well she was a lot heavier than
Dunno’s St Clair, that’s for sure.
Solid green brick walls that went on forever, down the line I was fired like a freight
train. The water was so clear it looked 6 inches deep. After catching a few rides
and behind pitched by the odd one I though I might head in as the reef was sucking
dry some spots. Since I had never surfed there before I didn’t know the best place
to paddle in. So on a lull I paddled straight in towards the beach. Unfortunately
when I was in less than waist deep water a big set appeared behind me and I had
no choice but to dive under getting rag-dolled in the process and smashing my forehead
on the reef. So when I staggered up onto the beach with blood pissing out of my
head I had an implant of the reef on my forehead about the size of a 50 cent coin.
Great. The boys patched me up and I basically said I want the truth, how bad is
it? They all agreed.... bad. So I tried to sleep that night knowing that I would
have to hike back through all that bush to get to a doctor in Bali before it really
got infected. Bob offered to come with me and we started off. Unfortunately we got
lost straight and headed out the long way around the island.
After hiking through bush for a couple of hours we came to a village where the locals
could not speak any English. While trying to find out when a truck would pass by
the entire village came and sat in front of us in a semi circle, there was over
100 of them just sitting and staring at us. Finally we got a truck to the ferry
terminal where we had missed the last ferry – we had been travelling all day and
my head was started to feel worse. The plan was to crash at the terminal for the
night but the only problem was it was where all the underworld also spent their
time at night.
Lucky for us a woman came out from the local church which was next door and asked
us if we would like to sleep on the floor, we didn’t and got farken nailed by mosquitos
all night. Next morning we had a plan to catch a plane back to Bali, so started
walking to the airport during a local parade, which meant the streets were 10 deep
on either side of the road waiting for the royal family to drive by. So here we
are walking down the main street with thousands of locals chanting and cheering.
We decided to flag a taxi down as it was looking a long way to walk. This mad man
picks us up and just floors it down the main street, then it starts to bucket down
like nothing. Don’t know how he could see where he was going at this speed, one
slip and he was going to hit the crowds on either side at about 90kmh. We made it
to the airport where the chick at the front desk tells us its like 250,000 rupi
when in fact it was only 25,000. We had the money but she fukt that up for us as
well.
Oh well, back to the ferry terminal, hours later we are on the ferry back to Bali.
Headed straight to the only white doctor on the island, a German bloke who said
I was very lucky I made it back as it had become infected with coral. Spent the
rest of my holiday sight seeing, and didn’t go surfing for the next three months.
It doesn’t sound so full on when its on paper but I would like to thank my best
friend Bob Turvey who helped me through the ordeal. Unfortunately Bob died a few
months back in a tragic accident in Sydney. He was only 39. I guess I’ll never forget
him or my first surfing trip at Desert Point. Cheers Bob I know you’re watching.
Cheers,
Nick Summerton
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