I once went to Bali. Spent a week there hanging on the beach, had
coconut lobster rice for breakfast, drank beer wearing a sarong, went
reef diving, and saw monkey temples. And I also found surfer Valhalla.
The real deal. Had made friends with a man named Whalyn, (turns out easy
to remember as most everyone else had same first name), and he told me I
needed to see this place. Shared a ride on single motorcycle as that
was just how one got around. Away from western areas to parts which
still had the shadows of older Bali; trance and dance to the faint
sounds of gamelan. Into the jungle, off the road, down a track. And
there was a hut. Grass shack. Open air bar with mix of westerners and
Balinese. Maybe a dozen people in all. For being a dive bar in the
jungle there was a air of reverence, an unexpected quiet. Sense of
something. Bought Whalyn and myself a beer. Sat at a table. He said "you
should go look". Weird that I knew where to go. There was a worn path
from the bar to a cliff edge. You could hear the ocean, but not clearly
see it. Path lead to a dark crevasse that opened downward. There were
rough logs that had been lashed together in a irregular web. Not a
ladder, not stairs. Just enough to scramble down 100 plus feet into the
darkness. At the bottom you are in the pit of a cave with sandy bottom.
To the left is a wide arch opening on to a warm yellow beach surround by
sheer faced cliff on three sides open to the water. There is where you
found what makes this place a cathedral. The ocean waves that have
traveled long and hard all the way from Africa. Deep swell that rose in a
majestic break. Walls of water 20 to 30 foot high. Surfers dwarfed in
comparison. Stood there. Knowing. Quiet. What would words be against all
this?
Standing on that beach - that was a good moment. That was a
very good moment. I had no idea of where I was going when I started on
that adventure that day, in fact was in Bali itself by matter of whim.
Chance had lead me to the heart of surfer Valhalla. From this vantage
point I could see the drama of the surfers battle these giant waves.
Finding truth in the struggle.
Paddle out too far and the waters
are still and you are only vaguely moved by the passing swell. Too close
to shore and the pounding of the surf will break you on the rocks. The
adulation of nature, of life, is found by seeking the crest of the wave
and to use it's energy to propel oneself forward. Keep balanced on the
lip of chaos. Very scary, very alive. A perfect allegory. Balance
between you and the board, balance of the board on the wave, balance of
fear and fearlessness. Imbalance in any and the wave is there to swallow
you whole.
Which brings me to the point of my story. Which is
that chance has lead me to your profile. And there is something there
which I find very interesting. Something worth the risk of writing you.
See if I can't get your attention.
Been fun writing you.
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