WIN A CONTOUR HD VIDEO CAMERA WITH WATERPROOF CASE PG.

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NORTH AMERICAS WINDSURFING MAGAZINE

THE MOVIE ISSUE

WITH GUEST EDITOR JACE PANEBIANCO EXPEDITION INDONESIA ANDRE PASKOWSKI INTERVIEW THE BONAIRE KIDS ARE ALRIGHT
DISPLAY UNTIL JUNE

SCAN WITH YOUR SMARTPHONE TO SEE MANU IN INDO SEE PG.

WINDSPORT.COM . US

SPRING

+ WE TEST 17 NEW HIGHWIND BOARDS AND SAILS!

Cooking at sea.

EXPEDITION
Gathering seaweed.

AN ADVENTURE DISCOVERING NEW WAVES

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Local sport.

N INDONESIA
AND EXPERIENCING NEW CULTURES
Waves behind the seaweed farm.

ES

WORDS AND PHOTOS BY BENJAMIN

OUARD
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Manu looks for the lip.

y only knowledge of Indonesia came from a surf video lmed there, in which Gerry Lopez got his rst barrels at G-Land and Rob Machado rode the seemingly endless waves of beautiful blue-green water. But now I get to join some of the Oxbow Team, composed of Manu Bouvet, Carine Camboulives and their daughter, Lou, to explore the Indonesian islands and satisfy my thirst for this famous surng spot. We arrive in Western Timor, the starting point for our epic two-month trip, situated at the extreme east of Indonesia. A er the rst few days, during which we could inspect the surroundings and learn a few Indonesian words that will save us, the swell takes its course and my dreams become reality. Adjusted to perfection, the machine begins its work drawing lines of endless breaking waves. The end-of-day lighting from behind the waves turns the water a turquoise colour, and the wind is perfectside-o and non-stop. We have found a hidden paradise. With the reef located about a half-mile from shore, finding a boat stands as the best way to approach these green lines that the ocean has formed. As with every trip I go on with Manu, he finds the best boat and driver around. Anus is the captain of a large fishing boat propelled from below by a roaring car engine in the hold. Every time it sounds like a helicopter is about to pass over our heads, we know Anus is arriving to pick us up. The only thing lacking was a reverse gear, meaning the ship has to remain anchored away on the breaks shoulder, making my work as photographer a little difficult since my only way to take dry shots is by free-handing my 600mm lens (theres

no possible way of using a tripod from the boat). Its like taking a 20pound weight, holding it at arms length and trying not to tremble in any way. Even though the pictures of the first waves are promising, I quickly have the desire to jump in the water and shoot from up close. There is nothing like partaking in the local Bintang beer while enjoying the sunset at days end. During these moments of solace, the tide is low; small pools of water form amongst the exposed coral in which strange shapes loom. The shapes are men and women carrying baskets a ached to each end of a plank propped on their shouldersthe seaweed farmers are out taking care of their marine farms. They hang algae from lines to help it grow, and, once mature, its gathered, brought back to the beach and sorted, depending, whether its green or brown. The still-green algae are spread over large sheets placed on the beach to dry. In the end, it will all be exported to Japan or China in order to extract a vital gelatin used in the food and cosmetics industries. During this tidal cycle, we soon nd ourselves unable to the boat, forcing us to walk. The half-mile hike carrying windsurng and photo gear seems incredibly long, but compared to the weight of the farmers algae baskets lled with water, I dont dare complain. Plus, these long walks give us a good look at their work and an understanding of the technique and operation involved. But even in this paradise, we cant remain content. The call of adventure forces us, once again, to move on to nd the best wave of Indo thats never, ever been surfed! This is why Manu has organized a trip aboard a boat, in order to continue our voyage through Indonesia.

Evening fun.

Anus boat.

Carine freeriding.

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Our evening view.

ADJUSTED TO PERFECTION, E MACHINE BEGINS ITS WORK DRAWING LINES OF ENDLESS BREAKING WAVES.

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ith its 60-foot planks of Indonesian wood, a ship that looks like a worthy pirate vessel anchors in our li le bay, waiting for us to begin the next leg of our journey. I cant help but think of the recent real-life pirate stories that currently haunt the region... just last September, a Japanese vessel carrying chemicals was a acked and robbed. We board the boat with all our gear, and are excited by the arrangement of our new living quarters. Our captain, Xavier, gives us the grand tour, and soon we nd ourselves with sails raised for the rst nights open-water crossing. The excitement of this new adventure keeps me from sleeping, so I take the opportunity to get acquainted with the ships crew members, Yann and Michael. We cruise straight west under a sparkling sky and slow-rising moon. I get lost in my thoughts, leaving Yann to his job. Passing a series of deserted islands with wild coastlines, further study of our map reveals the semblance of a wave that appears on the horizon. Is it just a mirage wave, or the spot weve been searching for? Everything on the map indicates the possibility of a perfect setup. The closer we get, the be er it looks. Suddenly, as we nally arrive, at least a dozen ns surface before us, right at the peak of where the wave is breaking. Silence brought on by fear and

SILENCE BROUGHT ON BY FEAR AND CURIOSITY SETTLES OVER US ALL AS E REALITY SETS IN OF POSSIBLY SUR NG IS SHARK INFEST ED REEF BREAK.

curiosity se les over us all, as the reality sets in of possibly surng this shark-infested reef break. Its still early, so we anchor the boat on the shoulder and wait for the wind to pick up, just watching the waves. The sets roll in one a er another, with a glassy perfection in the mornings still air. Its like the wave is taunting us with its riderless tubes. But what can we do? Screw it, lets go! Manu is the most impatient and jumps into the water first on his stand-up paddleboard. I look over at Jace Panebiancoour cameraman who joined us for this part of the tripand without too much thought, we jumped into the water with the camera. I cant believe we have this magical place with perfect waves all to ourselves. As I get close to the peak, Manu yells, There are dozens of fins just behind the peakits freaking scary! I feel pretty tense as easy prey, kicking around with my swim fins taking photos. Just before we decide to return to the boat, Manu shouts to us that they are actually huge manta rays, with some measuring over 15 feet across. Swimming in for a closer look, we end up in the middle of a bunch of these huge rays playing in the swell. Carried by the emotion of sharing the water with such amazing creatures, we enjoy a good windsurng session before tackling a new night of crossing. Like most mornings, the wind begins to develop a er a dozen hours of navigation and a few hours of sleep. Its the ideal opportunity to test the capabilities of our boat. Captain Xavier admits to us that he had just put this boat in the water for the rst time a few hours before our departure, and was actually nishing the nal painting while en route. Honoured to be its rst guests, we are more than happy to share in the baptism. The wood creaks under the pressure as we accelerate to nine 10 and, nally, 10.9 knots. Proud of this, his fourth helm, Captain Xavier takes us to our next spot. The swell nally drops, allowing us to anchor in a large bay. It looks like well be able to get a good, calm nights sleep. Well also be able to get on land for the rst time since se ing sail. A er a short tour of a small town and meeting the nice locals, Manu, Carine and Lou decide to sleep at the house of a gracious family. Lou immediately becomes very popular with the other kids by sharing her trip stories in English and French, and all the time bursting with laughter. All the kids have big smiles on their faces, whether they understand what she is saying or not.

Manu bo om-turning.

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A sheltered bay.

On board.

Life in paradise.

Giant manta ray.

The swell remains small for a while, but the oshore wind is blowing, and the bay oers a perfect playground for freeride windsurng. Carine blasts around the boat for a while in a picturesque se ing of white sand and coconut trees. The backdrop is denitely paradise, with the sun shining and no one else around to disturb us. In the morning, we awake to the boat pulling on its mooring: a wind swell has arrived, dragging behind it a line of white caps. We hurry up the coast to a spot Xavier suggests, and arrive to swell wrapping around a reef. Despite the wind being gusty and an inconsistent wind swell, we score a money session. But it ended, suddenly, as Manu is washed over a shallow reef by the wave-of-the-day, tearing his sail. Back on board, our departure time comes and we embark on our nal Indonesian run, but in a more raging sea than usual. With a big wind-

swell hi ing us from the side and wind gusting to 35 knots, the boat is pitching and making creaking sounds like weve never heard before. The hull stabilizers (small rudders on the side) help us keep our course, despite the mountains of water through which we are sailing. Leaving the coastline, the groaning of the wood under the strain of rough seas grows louder until, suddenly, a stabilizer breaks. With Xavier at the helm, Yann grabs the tool box to rea ach the stabilizer with a hammer and nails. Next time youre on a boat, try to imagine hi ing a nail with a hammer, let alone doing it in 12-foot seas. A few hammer shots later, the problem is xed and we nish our journey safely. Its time to move on to the nal stage of our adventure. Luckily, we get to enjoy a hotel room with hot water for the rst time since we embarked on the triplikely our last before returning home again.

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raveling in Indo, especially to a place as removed as our next stop, Papua New Guinea, its critical to learn to stay cool and calm. Just ge ing there, we had to deal with cancelled ights, chartering planes and countless unexpected travel problems, all on next-to-no sleep. Upon arrival, we join our guide, Mr. Kelly, and climb aboard a boat that will allow us to trek upriver to our hosts: a local tribe discovered only last October. We stop at the last available village for a night, before we disappear into the thick jungle. Its an interesting stopover, in which we have to give money to the local police controlling the area. The next morning, we get back on the narrowing river, concentrating on avoiding the numerous partially submerged logs. The sights and sounds of the wildlife around us, including gigantic bats, crocodiles and rare birds, creates an atmosphere of true exploration. The rst step onto the muddy bank immediately cakes our legs in grey up to the knee, while one of our guides excitedly shows us a bright green snake he has just killed with a stick a snake that, if it bites you, can cause death within minutes. Welcome to the jungle! Warned of the presence of leeches, snakes, spiders, mosquitoes and other insects, pants and long sleeves are seriously recommended. Within minutes of reaching shore, our guides start clearing trees, and a camp is suddenly built before our very eyes. As we se le in, we begin to notice some of the native tribes people peering at us through the foliage.

A er embedding ourselves in their territory, its time to go and pay our respects to the host tribe. We proceed hesitantly, knowing only two words of their language, lled with feelings of curiosity, fear, and joy to be having the rare experience of meeting people of such an untouched culture. The tribes people are dressed wearing simple fabric and palm-tree branches around their waists, and all have headdresses of bird feathers and noses pierced with bone. We shake their hands, while a strange and sort of embarrassing atmosphere oats between them and our team. No words are exchanged, even amongst the tribes people themselves. While admiring their dress, complete with bows and arrows slung to their backs, our outts in this se ing must make us look like aliens. The dierences are so large that the curiosity from both parties is obvious. A er being welcomed, Mr. Kelly tries to share our names with the tribes chief, but the sound and pronunciation makes it dicult for him. Gradually, a er several minutes of observation, a more se led feeling spreads through the camp. Watching them engage in the construction of an additional hut helps us begin to understand their relationship with nature. They use all the jungle provides for clothing, shelter and food. Wanting to learn more about their culture, we ask them to show us how they prepare and cook one of their staple foods known as sago. A sago palm-tree is cut down and ed with spikes in order to break and remove the bark to reach the centre. A stick tool is used to shred the entire interior of the tree into small chips, which are transported to the

WE PROCEED HESITANTLY, LLED WI FEELINGS OF CURIOSITY, FEAR AND JOY TO BE HAVING E RARE EXPERIENCE OF MEETING PEOPLE OF SUCH AN UNTOUCHED CULTURE.
The river.

Dancing.

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Ouch!

Lou gives a gi .

Making cloth.

What are you doing with your hand?

Happy kids.

Manu drops in.

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Home sweet home.

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The tribe.

Local tribesman.

Can I take your photo?

edge of the river where women mix them with water for hours to get a reddish juice. This juice is recovered using large containers made from the bark of a tree, and allowed to sit until a paste-like deposit forms at the bo om. Once removed, this dough is then cooked on the re and served to eat. It doesnt really have much taste; its rather sticky and not very appetizing, but it is a very important part of the local diet. A er a night of pouring rain, our second and nal day with the tribe will have them showing us their technique for making cloth from tree bark. With care, they cut the bark o a fallen tree without breaking it. Its brought back to camp where the women bend the bark in every direction and hammer it to make it so er. A er hours of this labour, the bark becomes exible and as so as chamois skinthis is what they wear around their waist. Wanting Carine and Lou to enjoy the fruits of their labor, they encourage them to don the local garb. The smiles on everyones faces show the joy of the women in sharing their culture. Its now our turn to tell them a li le bit about our passion. Manu brings out his board and paddle and demonstrates, on the river, his way of his paddling, though Im not sure they really understand what standup paddling is until we show them pictures from a magazine. They stand gaping at the pictures in amazement. Next, its my turn to explain what these objects are that I keep pointing at their faces. I photograph the face of one of them and show it to him on the cameras small LCD display. To my surprise, he has no reaction. I take a picture of his friend and show him again, and he suddenly breaks out in laughter. They simply have no idea of their own faces. Mr. Kelly later explains to me that the only idea they have of themselves is from the reection in the puddles a er a rainstorm. The time has come for our departure. Lou is still playing with the local kids, and despite spending only 48 hours here, its hard to think of leaving. We say goodbye to the whole tribe, and they launch into a dance with a hypnotic chant. We board our li le boat and wave while returning back downriver from where we came. After several more travel horrors, we finally arrive safely home from a two-month adventure we will never forget. The question is: how do you return to a normal, modern lifestyle after such an authentic and exotic experience?

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