I have been taking a few people surfing lately,
putting them on a surfboard for the first time...
and it is weird...I was feeling having gifted them... the power of the waves... the sacred strength of the sea!
…here in Serenity beach, or in Varkala or even before in Anglet, Biarritz…and invariably the same ecstatic reactions, joyful explosions, gratitude after a few waves. It seems like the snow foam, the cold and yet exhausting exercise, paramounting in an experience of speed, of gentle (at the beginning only) power of the sea acts like liberation. 
Especially when they were screaming out of joy after their first ride!
A liberation allowing the ones who try to reach the shore safely free then from the fears experienced out there, when series could have broken the trespasser at any time!
A cry combining “I am alive”, and “I made it”… “I rode a wave”…
Well …she only took you, allowed you to ride her.
And every time the joy get more and more ecstatic when the trainee
surfing finally tries to stand, one knee after the other, rising on the board. Awkwardly
finding its balance and slowly adjusting to the permanent movements of the sea.
Surfing waves have always attracted kings and mavericks.
We cannot completely trace where it comes from, Hawaii or some
tribes in Peru on their bamboo little boats, in Easter Island on peace of wood,
or even in the 18th, 19th century farmers in Les Landes
south of France riding half trunks…
Always the same fascination of being able to ride, to slide on the
sea…
And by hearing my friends shouting, new to it, I realize how
grateful I am, should be… to have been born in a place where waves are Gods, where
those who ride them are magicians…
That life from the beginning gave me that magical gift of…. Waves.
A surf trip in India, almost invariably starts with a KCTRC bus
ride and a rickshaw trip to the airport, at least for me.
In my case I took both from Serenity beach to Chennai
international airport. Aiming at Port Blair in the middle of the archipelago of
Andaman islands.
One day there to experience of bit of Holly times, powder spread every where as
purification, a way to “bless” people around you… or simply a kind of ethylic
carnival…
Then the stress of not being sure of getting a ticket on the one
boat per day reaching little Andaman, my goal destination. Getting up at 4am,
to line up for tickets at 5am… witness the crooked systems of a few people
buying all the tickets to sell them back double price!
I have so far managed to refuse always to pay extra money,
‘propina’, and bribery…
This time as well but… I ended up embarking really the last one…
having to jump on my own on the deck, the boat having started to manoeuvre.
A 6 hours journey, quite enjoyable, to quiet for me, not enough
swell, which is what I am going there for.
A beautiful arrival along the main beach of Little Andaman, just before Hut Bay, maybe 30 kilometers long.
The first day, just enough waves to swim in front of the resort, bodysurf
in an amazing pure sea, shore break breaking on an immaculate white sanding
beach going on forever.
A sense of freedom… to take out its short boards and swim naked.
The next days gathering tips from earlier arrivals, I found the
way to reach Butler’s bay, left ride, one of the most beautiful wave on the
island.
And the beginning of a love story.
A smooth take off, a perfect section at low tide, and quite long
left ride.
Just a few days to get back in shape, readjust the reflex of
backside surfing.
Days of surfing in perfect conditions, in theses islands that
accept very few tourists, that have been rarely surfed, that half are forbidden
to visit, tribal areas being preserved from tourism and even Indian influence.
All the wildness of these islands in the living conditions: signs
of crocodiles everywhere, not really reassuring when you hear the stories of
surfers having seen some in the water, surfing… or the story of that American
guy who got eaten alive in Havelock, the honey moon resort, where some sea
crocks operate, fast and ruthlessly!
In 3 weeks in Little Andaman I only saw one crocodile, a small
one, on my way to the falls, deep in land!
After having paid my respect to the elephants here.
Yet I could not help thinking that big brothers, mothers were all
around, as the legend has it.
So those 2 days when we sneaked out to go and surf, the amazing
wave of Kumary point I felt petrified the whole night, sleeping on my board bag
outside, hearing every shell moving…
Yet the spectacle of the majestic right awakening at low tide
coming up was worth any sleepless night…
The fun to share such a trip with friends met on the road! And
that road of 2 hours along the beach driving our motorbikes towards THE wave!
Not very environmentally correct, but there are no other way to
reach that wave, besides taking a boat.
2 days of dream surf, getting into the cavern of the almighty
Kumary rolling point, 6 to 8 foot. Only speedy Francisco made it out. He broke
one of his boards too.
After a day of burning sun and repeated cuts on the shallow reef I
decided to head back to the safe and comfy room in my resort.
Well the local cops had been told by our last lodger, Baba from
Blue View that we had disappeared. So when I reappeared alone they came
straight to my room, to ask me where we were, where my friends were…
A proper start of … Midnight Oil movie!
I did not want to give my friends up but ended up reporting for
hours the next morning at 9am at the Police station, and seeing my passport taken
away, having to go and search for them!
All ended in good laughs, but realising once more how heavy the
whole police/admin system heavy is here.
Fortunately some new swells erased the bad feelings that had risen
up from this close-to-jail experience.
And more beautiful waves and magical colours, splendid bays like I
had never seen before: Buttlers cooking!
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