The camp’s dining area affords a clear view of the spectacular, A-frame playing field out front and sometimes it feels like you are observing afield of smoking cannons.
The huff and hiss of waves can be so distracting it’s almost impossible to concentrate on food and conversation – you can’t help but feel like you should be out there on that wave that just erupted.
Like many hollow, shifting beachies, Mandiriowes its rifling corners to outer bombies which refract and break up the thick lines of swell that hammer the South West coast of Sumatra. In the wet season (November to March) the swell periods tend to be shorter, the waves a little crispier and the winds can blow offshore for much of the day. In the dry season, the mornings are clean and late glass-offs common, while the long period swells grip the bottom so hard that a three-foot peak feels like a muscular six-footer when it flexes and lands on your head.
Fortunately the beach has slight swell shadows. If it’s eight-foot and thunderous out front at Mandiri you can usually slip south down the beach and find more user-friendly peaks. Do you want a black diamond barrel challenge or something a little easier? The beach is seven km long and at least four of five km of that is regularly surfed –beach break heaven on its day.
Over the last couple of days of our stay, the swell abates enough to make the beach breaks more accessible, triggering an unrestrained pursuit of barrel glory for pros and punters alike. Further down the beach one night we join a dozen or soof the pros who are enjoying the fringe benefits of being contest knock outs in South Sumatra.Between silky, windless pits they toss dizzying spins into the brilliant burnt orange of a Sumatran sunset. Curiously it’s not so hard to jag a wave because rarely does a peak break in the same place twice. There is a kind of barrel lottery element to the Mandiri waves, the random teepees almost choose you. When a swell cuts you from the pack and squares up, you’d better go because you don’t know when your number will come up next.
If you are not hunting your own hollow fantasies, you’re often staring sidelong into someone else’s.One evening out front of the camp I’m treated to a water’s eye view of Indonesian prodigy Bronson Meydi as he scoops serenely into a fierce, muscular double-up that folds into a fair impersonation of Off the Wall. That same night I duck dive two, consecutive six-footers, kicking desperately through a duck dive as the unbroken walls threaten to suck me back over the falls into a gurgling horror show. Afterwards I’m so rattled that I paddle straight in, convinced the next one will surely land right on me. While the sand bottom offers some reassurance make no mistake, Mandiriis a heavy scene at six-foot and above. However, if you fully commit, find the rail and sneak under the lip, you might just get the barrel of your life.One night, over a delicious dinner of marinated Ayam ambak (BBQ chicken) Dan, one of the camp owners, points out that he is quite content to do almost all his surfing on the Mandiri beach stretch. He indicates his perfect working day involves a breakfast of tubes at the beachie, then attending to any pressing matters, followed by another session for the evening glass off. A day of business, book-ended by barrelling, sand-bottom A-frames. Does life get any better?
This is an excerpt from the ‘Mandiri Blues’ feature from Issue 586 which is on stands now, available for purchase online or subscribe to Tracks to read the full article & more premium content
