The peaks they were shifting from forward to back and horizons cluttered with churning whitecaps. Alone in the water, just me and my mate, we arrived right on time, not early or late. The surfboards were waxed and the camera was primed, our Lombok excursion seemed perfectly timed to capture the rising and powerful swells that this wee green island delivers so well. While riding on scooters that would not go fast there were many farmsteads and herds that we passed, dirt compounds and groups of water buffalo that moved with gaits plodding and measured and slow. Ekas and Gerupuk were our favorite bays, we surfed and we played in their waters ways, we drove motored explored them from east to west in search of such waves as would propel us best. Fried rice did sustain us and keep us alive, did fuel our unending and incessant drive to keep right on paddling, injured or whole, with joy in our hearts and hope deep in our souls. There were many rainstorms and thunderous peals that woke us from slumber and made children squeal but they didn't stop us from mounting our steeds or quieting our daily water-time needs. Goodbye then, fair Lombok, we shall meet again, farewell to the women and children and men whom we met and played with on your verdant hills – thanks for the love friendship food surf and goodwill.
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
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