I feel as if I haven't written about surfing yet, and it's been a month nearly so I'll try and start now.
First and oh, so foremost at the western tip of the Bukit Peninsula is a menage of peaks that break off a wide reef affectionately known as Uluwatu. I say affectionately out of charm, or cuteness, or whatever. I'm not sure really, but the more appropriate word would be respectfully.
The waves at Uluwatu, all of them - Temples, Bombies, Outside Corner, Racetracks, and of course the Peak - all of them demand a certain respect. It's a respect of all the water moving because at times and in certain places it can be a rushing rapids. It's a respect for the shallow reef sitting serenely and razor sharp just below your toes in the line-up. So serrated that when I tapped it with the top of my foot after foolishly pulling into a barrel form behind, I came up with a sharp pain, and when I looked down there were chunks of meat missing that showed white and lacerations through my toes. Out of the water, the white and everything else turned rouge red with the blood streaming out. Respect. Pay it or pay for the lack thereof. People get wrecked out there, so I always try to surf it on a higher tide (that means there's more water, and hence, the reef is deeper).
Don't get me wrong though, the wave's probably the best and most consistent in Bali and there's almost always guys out, and to surf there just before dusk is a thing of beauty. The sun sets big and red out way off over the ocean and seems to be its biggest and most vibrant just before it leaves.
The waves weren't that epic for the one particular session, but it's one that I won't ever forget, waiting for Steve to get out with my feet still in the water in the cave, with the sun slowly fading, but not so slow because like that, it was gone, like a beautiful Keyser Soze sunset as Steve picks and slips his way across the low tide reef.
