The Atomic Atolls

Ben Dunn, pumping through the atomic blue.

Stephanie Gilmore was first into the water; she picked off a couple of quick ones, working out the setup and carving some solid turns before pulling into a little barrel on the inside. One by one, she was joined by the rest of the crew, and after about 30 minutes the swell kicked in and regular four-foot sets poured through. The outside section was opening up for some big turns before the wave picked up speed on the shallower inside reef, finally allowing one last cutback before it ran out of speed in deeper water. It was a long wave and looked like it’d handle a bigger swell.

That afternoon, we surfed Amnesia again. It was mid-tide when we paddled out, and the wind had backed off. The waves were only three feet with occasional bigger sets, but that was enough for a little run before hitting the inside bowl. It reminded me of Swimming Pools off Namotu Island in Fiji, but looked shallower, and at low tide there’s a chance of running dry on the last section, especially if you have to straighten out. Like most reefs in this part of the Pacific, it is healthy and alive; the colors off the bottom reflect in the lip, so when you’re trimming along you feel as if you’re completely engulfed by them. It’s like surfing in an aquarium.

One afternoon, a small dinghy motored up to the boat as we set anchor for the night. A bearded white guy in his 60s was driving it. His name was Kevin, and he’d been living in the islands for 40 years, first arriving as a member of the Peace Corps in the ’60s. Throughout that time, he has had businesses on the main island, taught English, written a history of the place, and done a lot of fishing. His hometown is Boston, but he returns there only for about 10 weeks a year. He now lives on one of the outer atolls, his own island given to him by the local king as thanks for all the work he has done for the local people. Kevin is an interesting character, and he had a good knowledge of the islands and the ocean. We knew we were there in the windy season, and it had been pretty nonstop for three weeks. Kevin said it was unusual for the trades to blow so constantly, and in his experience it hadn’t been this bad in the past two years. He also said the waves broke all year, ranging in size from two to 12 feet, sometimes bigger. That night, a couple of the locals paddled out with a catch of lobsters, which they wanted to trade for fuel. We ended up with 14 lobsters in return for a few gallons of fuel, $15, and two “Simpsons” DVDs—another dinner to remember.

Every day offered something new, but toward the end of the trip one morning in particular stood out, when we headed north to scout another break. The weather was partly overcast with occasional rainsqualls moving in out of the east, casting a soft, golden light. The beauty of the island as we approached was amazing. The spot has been dubbed “Nirvana,” and the name says it all. The atoll, surrounded by white sands and covered with tropical foliage of yellow and varying green hues, featured a clean, four-foot, perfectly formed right-hander peeling down the reef. Besides the eight surfers on the boat, comprised of Rip Curl team riders, deckhands, and the skipper, the nearest surfer was a thousand miles away. It was as if it came straight out of a surfer’s dream, the same image school kids have been doodling on their books for years.

The wind finally dropped and blew straight offshore. It was mid-tide heading low, and while the takeoff was shallow and a little sketchy at times, there were plenty of clean barrels and open sections for big turns. Doris scored some nice waves, winding off the top with a smooth style. He’s 50, but has the sinewy fitness and strength that comes with a lifetime on the ocean. Everyone was catching waves. WCT rookie Ben Dunn and his mate, Dean Brady, were having a ball on their forehand, while Adam Wickwire and Nathan Hedge were pretty cavalier, pulling into shallow graves on their backhand. Not surprisingly, more than one session belonged to Curren. Watching him close-up was a privilege, the subtleties of his technique quite amazing as he generates speed and power from an ankle flex or by redirecting his knee. His speed out of the top, tight-arc rebounds to finish a full-rail cutback, and instinctive tuberiding is…well, he won three world titles and he still surfs way, way, way better than some of the “journeyman” competitors in the Top 44.

By the time Doris and his motley crew aboard the Indies Trader were finally done poking around this forgotten region of the Pacific, two months had passed. So, too, had two different surf crews. Aside from those who were on board, he didn’t see any other surfers in two months. The waves in this zone are not as perfect as Indonesia, and they take much more effort even from the best of boats, but the pristine isolation of the place, the unknown, and the sense of discovery more than make up for all the nonsense going on in the Mentawais. A little more watching and waiting is required here, but then again, that’s what surfing is all about.