While most of modern coastal Bali that is not already a high-density hotel strip is a construction site heading for the same fate, there are still a few pockets of “old Bali” to be found if you look hard enough.
Last year we rediscovered the beautiful east coast and a time-capsule losmen just a cow paddock away from a white sand beach on the outskirts of the old village of Candi Dasa. This year, after a week of strenuous fun surfing head-high clean waves at my usual river mouth break, dodging Russian learners and Bali groms on school holidays – every time a local grom drops in on me, my first thought is, why did I ever loan his grandfather my board half a century ago – we were lured back to the wild coast for some peace and quiet through an invitation to stay in a beachfront Dutch colonial-style estate recently leased by an Australian friend.
I have to confess that until last year Candi Dasa hadn’t even been on my radar since the early 1980s. In the first big wave of tourism development the ancient village where the jungle mountains meet the Lombok Strait had been targeted for massive development, with the offshore reefs being mined for lime to make cement. While this created a few surfable reef passes that hadn’t previously existed, it also created the opportunity for medium to large swell events to wash away the remaining agricultural land along the front and erode the foundations of many of the new buildings. Within a few years, the Candi Dasa beachfront was a crumbling mess of abandoned construction projects.
I recall staying with our young kids at one of the surviving small hotels and paddling out to the reef for an early surf with my late stepson. We were only halfway to the break when the bloated carcass of a dead pig floated between us, bringing that adventure to an abrupt halt.
Despite some restoration attempts during the ‘90s, Candi Dasa never fully recovered, and apart from a beautiful lily-covered lagoon, the village itself remains a straggly affair. It’s only when you hit the winding jungle tracks around the outskirts that you discover the hidden gems, and our friend’s colonial estate was certainly one of them.
For the next few days we lounged around the pool and read books, or walked the beach beyond the gate at the bottom of the beautiful garden, while the Balinese staff cooked us sumptuous feasts. Our only excursion was to the no-longer secret Virgin Beach, down a winding track and almost in the shadow of Gunung Agung, Bali’s highest mountain. Also known as the White Sand Beach, its real name is Pasir Putih, a clean and relatively under-populated strip of sand at the end of the jungle with a handful of cafes and safe bathing in clear blue water inside a fringing reef. It’s as close to the tropical paradise cliché as you’ll get in modern Bali, and it’s only 40 minutes in either direction to good surf options in Jasri and Keramas.
Candi Dasa is also a great base for exploring the fascinating Bali Aga culture, in villages like Tegunan Pegringsingan, one of the oldest on the island. I could tell you more, but I’d have to kill you.
Big yawn in Brazil
As I write, we’ve only seen one day of the Vivo Rio Pro but I’m bored already.
I just don’t get it.
The WSL chooses to run this event at a fairly ordinary beach break plagued by backwash called Saquarema near Rio, while just down the beach is a grinding, often pumping barrel called Barrinha, where some of the most exciting contests ever held in Brazil went down prior to Covid.
I don’t know why the sport’s governing body would make such a move – bigger car park, better wifi? – but WSL chief executive officer Erik Logan carefully avoided mentioning Barrinha throughout his over-long stint in the commentary booth on the first day of competition, preferring to focus on how much the Brazilian crowd was enjoying the show.
And why wouldn’t they, with three of their heroes in the men’s top five, and all of them being treated like royalty? This just a few weeks since the judges and other competitors were receiving death threats over heat results that went the wrong way.
If there was any first day joy for the Aussies, it was in seeing the Brazilians cannibalising each other in a high-scoring and high-flying ramp-off between Gabriel Medina and Yago Dora, in which Dora sent Brazil’s god of surf to the elimination round by a fraction of a point.
On the other hand, one of our great hopes, Jack Robinson, also went to the eliminations after adding another heat loss to his record run, following a season start when he could do no wrong.
But at least the Brazilians don’t have Kelly Slater to kick around any more. Notorious for his Brazil no-shows throughout his career, Kelly pulled the pin on his season wildcard slot just hours before the event began at the beach break he is famously on record as saying “sucks”.
