Mecca

Bali is the mecca of waves and we are the pilgrims. 

Map of Bali Surf Spots

Bali contains 3% of the world’s top 100 waves according to a recent edition of Surfer magazine.  That is an amazing statistic considering the amount of coastline the world has to offer and the small size of Bali’s coastline in comparison. 

If you wonder why we have such a fascination with waves, consider our backgrounds.  We all have taken various dynamic courses that rigorously detail the formulas of waves including their amplitude, type, and dispersion relationships.  Oceanic waves are the only waves that are of comparable size to humans and of a substance that allows such intimate interactions like surfing (as opposed to sound waves, gravity waves, seismic waves, etc.). Surfing is the ultimate hands on science experiment for those interested in fluid dynamics, and Bali is one of the best surfing destinations. 

Echo Beach / Canggu

After arriving at Denpasar airport, we took a taxi ride to the hotel that was more thrilling than most amusement park rides.  The roads are beyond congested, and it is not frowned upon to have several generations of family from infants to elderly riding the same moped through town.  Under the cover of night we were dropped at Echoland Bed and Breakfast on the western coast of Bali.  The next morning we had breakfast on the rooftop patio with a view of the ocean.  It doesn’t cost much to live like a highroller in Bali.

The waves at Echo Beach were mildly disappointing given the reputation.  As faithful pilgrims though, we remained strong and relished every wave the ocean offered.  Most nights we lounged at restaurants overlooking the beach and enjoyed the local dishes of Nasi Goreng (fried rice) and Satay (grilled pork, steak, and chicken).  If you want a more detailed review of the food, James would be happy to inform you. 

Echo Beach Time Lapse

Aside from the lacking waves, we met Harris at the hotel.  Harris has lived in Perth, Australia for 8 years but is from Florida.  Owen also joined us on the second night at the bed and breakfast and enlightened us with his Australian accented “Owenisms”. They both happily joined our search for the 3%.

Uluwatu

Echo Beach was hard to leave but the pilgrimage for waves took precedent over the lap of luxury.  We journeyed to Uluwatu, Bali (southern tip).  We stayed at a hotel called The Gong that is equidistant from the surf breaks of Uluwatu and Nyang Nyang. 

The Gong

 Our wave pilgrimage would not be without trials.  Like Echo Beach, Uluwatu was also starved for waves and Harris cracked his head in the pool.  He opted out of stitches in favor of more natural healing means, the glorious water of Bali well-known for it’s ability to produce staff infections.  Dirt roads, mud pits, and live coral were traversed to no avail.  No waves. No fluid dynamic interactions.  Nothing.  But as pilgrimages go, persistence is key.  The walk to Uluwatu to check the break was encouraging even though the waves were lackluster.

Uluwatu Stairs

Legian

After being skunked for waves, we drowned our sorrows in the tourist culture around Kuta.  Legian beach, near Kuta, is not particularly known for its waves.   So instead of surfing, James, Gavin, Harris, and Owen all bungee jumped while I occupied the videographer position. In fact, one bungee jump was not enough.  They each did it twice. 

Gavin Bungee

James Bungee

We managed our depression regarding mediocre waves by haggling with the locals for bags, t-shirts, jewelry, etc.  Because it was currently the off/rainy season in Bali, we got a resort style hotel room for less than half the normal rate.  Yes, you can even haggle with resorts. EVERYTHING is negotiable in Bali.  The last morning we got up at six in desperate hopes that our pilgrimage would not end in despair.  Surely, our patience would be rewarded.  We begrudgingly walked to the nearest beach break in desperate hopes of waves before our flight at noon.  This is what we found……

Legian Beach Barrel

Final Leg

Adam is working on an epic post from our time spent in Bali. We are back at the Crowne Plaza hotel in the Singapore airport, awaiting departure back to the states tomorrow morning. About to head to bed. Our itinerary for the final leg today (was) and tomorrow (is):

Thursday, November 10, 2011, 12:55pm Bali time: Flight Denpasar -> Singapore, arriving 3:30pm same time zone
Friday, November 11, 2011, 7:20am Singapore time: United Airlines Singapore -> Tokyo, arriving 2:50pm Tokyo time, one hour ahead of current (6 hour 30 minute flight time)
Friday, November 11, 2011, 5:00pm Tokyo time: United Airlines Tokyo -> San Francisco, arriving 8:55am PST (same day... weird!), 9 hour flight time
Friday, November 11, 2011, 10:41am PST: United Airlines San Fran -> Denver, arriving 2:15pm MST, 2 hour 30 minute flight time

11/11/11 will last 39 hours for us in our own relative time. Fun date for that to happen! I suppose we'll technically get to make three mega-wishes, two 11:11am ones and one nightcap. Better start brainstorming.

We are exhausted but happy. Morale high, but the onset of the "travel blur" as Adam put it is looming. Pray for expediency (thanks Kads)!

-Gavin

The Band is finally heading home

Hostel Living in Kuala Lumpur

View from KL Tower

US Dollars to Malaysian Ringgits, barracks to hostels, one road to thousands, and English to…well, a bunch of languages that we don’t understand.

Quite a photogenic pair of towers

We were thrown from militaristic structure and 25-mph-or-less onto streets where traffic lights are suggestions and crossing the road as a pedestrian is strikingly similar to the game of Frogger (it turns out we’re all natural champions of the game). It was quite a jolt of a transition, but it was an exciting arrival in Kuala Lumpur, and even more so once we got to the long-awaited Reggae Mansion, our hostel located just outside of Chinatown, which Gavin fortunately stumbled upon online. Everything there was brand spanking new, as it had only opened a month or so prior, and the amenities were luxurious as far as hostels go.

Our office at the Reggae Mansion

Getting some dinner with Josh of New Zealand

We quickly made some acquaintances in the 16-person dorm room we stayed in, and the friendly folks running the hostel were throwing a couple parties over the weekend to celebrate Halloween where we had some good fun and made a couple more bi/tri/quadrilingual friends. They threw the Halloween parties in an upstairs lounge that was complete with apple bobbing and shots and ladders – the usual American party games.

The Orchid Garden

People we met included Aussies, Danish, Kiwis, and a fellow American from Cali. Most of them were wandering the world for months, often coming from or heading off to places like Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia, or some island in Indonesia. Most had amazing stories of the wild sights they had seen across Southeast Asia, but we tried to compete by telling our stories of launching weather balloons on an island in the middle of the Indian Ocean where they probably filmed Lost.

One discovery just across the street from our hostel was a great little antique bookstore (think old, creaky attics) in which each of us ended up grabbing at least one item. It was as clustered as anything, with seemingly random stacks of books everywhere. But the lady working there could lead you right to what you wanted. The store was called Junk Bookstore (probably a translation error), which was a bit of irony considering that it had rare and probably high-demand items if brought back to the US.

During the days we explored the streets of KL, attempting to catch as many of the big sights as possible. Though trips up to the sky bridge of the Petronas Towers were closed for renovations, we were able get a panoramic sky view from the KL Tower, wander the national park, peruse an Orchid garden, and check out the national Mosque. Particularly interesting was hearing the daily Islamic prayers come out on loud speakers over the otherwise white noise of the city, which we heard very clearly while walking through the orchid garden. That was definitely a new experience for us.

Getting ready for our first sleeper train ride

Our KL trip ended with our very first sleeper train ride, which was a pretty novel experience. Following another day in Singapore, we began our next leg of the journey with a flight out to Bali, Indonesia, where we’ve heard only great things from the travelers we’ve run into. Julia Roberts also tells us it’s a great time (we watched Eat, Pray, Love to prep ourselves for Bali). Standby for updates on the final leg of the trip.

Onward to Indo

-james

Leg Two

I write from Reggae Mansion in Kuala Lumpur (capital of Malaysia), our swag downtown hostel for the next three nights. We are taking a brief Internet break so this will be a short post, but I thought I'd quickly post our travel schedule for the second leg of our journey: DG -> Singapore -> Kuala Lumpur -> Bali

Friday, October 28, 3:15am (DG time): Fly military C17 Diego Garcia - Paya Lebar Air Force Base, Singapore, arriving 10:15am Singapore time
Saturday, October 29, 8:45am (Sing. time): Board train Singapore - Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, arriving 3:00pm KL time (same as Sing.)
Tuesday, November 1, 11:00pm: Board overnight sleeper train KL - Singapore, arriving Sing. next day at 6:45am
Wednesday, November 2, 4:20pm: AirAsia flight Singapore - Denpasar, Bali, Indonesia, arriving around 7pm I think

We are about to head out into KL to check out a few quick sites and grab some local chow. Then our hostel is having a Halloween fajesta tonight, so we'll check that out. New currency is Malaysian Ringgits. We will see what the next three days here bring us... nothing planned for now save a list of some interesting places to check out (e.g. Petronas Towers, Batu Caves, orchid gardens) and a courtyard full of people to meet. Let the games begin.

Hostel beds in 16-bed dorm.. Adam bottom right, me bottom left, James in the penthouse

View from rooftop bar

-Gavin

So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish

Yes, I did steal that quote. And no, we did not eat any fish. Yes, there is seafood on Diego Garcia, but no, it is not locally caught (so we’re told).

Where to begin...

fun in the sun after being bumped a day (10/3)

I think that we’ve bragged enough about our enchanted coconut forests, the magical lagoons, daily doses of windsurfing, haunted plantations, the boss crabs with their swag, and the chatty Kathy birds, who apparently don’t go to sleep. So I’ll curb mention of ray chasing by paddleboard, shark scouting from the island depths of Turtle Cove, and feral sterile donkey riding (if you have to ask, you can’t afford it).

Well, it went very, very fast, and in the best ways possible. We’ve basked in the joys of being disconnected from society (mostly – at least no cell phones ringing). Knowing what we were getting ourselves into, we embraced rolling out of bed, fixing a quick cup, and getting out and comfortable with nothing but the milky way lighting the road (and a Jupiter here and there to help out). The shift work was great, and we all took on the duty of DYNAMO balloon launcher like it was our own little experiment. We experienced a good deluge, Seattle-style spray with nothing but grey, and the ever-sought-after blue with as much blue coming from above as from below our feet. And though we usually had the water beneath us, we were ALWAYS thinking about our thesis work, we promise.

hanging out with the Fodies

Many a balloon was launched and many a Pam was sprayed. I think a little explanation is called for here. So, if you go high enough, even down here at hot and humid 7°S, you get to the freezing point – usually around 4 or 5 km up. What happens there (pretend you’re a weather balloon): provided there are rain droplets (AKA cloud), you get iced up, iced up some more, until you become heavy enough that the buoyancy of the helium can’t keep you afloat and you begin to sink back down. But wait, it’s warm down here, so yes, the ice melts off, and finally you can begin to ascend again. We’ve watched at the computer as balloons bobbed around this “freezing level” (clever, isn’t it?) some 5 times before it either harvests the courage to break on through and continue on up or succumbs to the stresses of the cold world above and bursts.

I told you this place was enchanted!

Now, back to the Pam. It was rumored before we departed the department that Pam spray – yep, the cooking oil – could be used for its hate-of-water-ness (hydrophybia) to prevent icing on balloons. Diego Garcia clerk: “No Pam here, Bill of New Zealand.” Bill of New Zealand: “No Pam?! Ouy, let’s try some olive oil. Cheers!” So extra virgin olive oil it was. Starting from early failed attempts of boringly applying with a paper towel (me), all the way to getting down and dirty with the bare hands to “assure that it was completely lathered up like a greased pig” (Gavin), to “I’m just going to try letting the balloon go without the instrument pack this time.” (Won’t name names here, I don’t want to get Gavin in trouble.) We tried it all. We called it Field Olive Oil Deployment (FOOD), and boy, what a delicious campaign it was. Let’s get some professors out here next time for these fun activities!

Carlos earning his Balloon Launch Merit Badge

Well, the newbies are in, and the torch has been passed. All of yesterday was spent watching the new folks rig up the balloons themselves, from start to finish, with us being there only to provide tips. They’re already rolling on their own, and taking care of business. Today was our day of relaxation, which included some racquet ball, ping pong, a special celebratory din-din at the local fine dining spot, and a final goodbye to our good friend Carlos, or Charlos, or Charlie, who many of you will fortunately get to meet in the near future.

a couple of sunrise shots on our way out

Happy to say that I’m writing you from my comfy seat in the skeletal, infamous, surreal USAF C-17, as Gavin and Adam sleep the soundest of soundly to the hum of the engines (find videographic evidence below). It’s 4:45 a.m., our time, so I guess that means I have to start calling tomorrow today.

Now for our highly anticipated backpacking leg of the journey. We’re off to find this restaurant we hear of at the end of the universe. With that I leave you to the soothing sounds of the C-17 and some sleeping beauties.

- Jame’s R, the band (coming to an island near you)

P.S. The bit about the sterile feral donkey riding was just a tease, but we hear it's a riot.

Plantation

As we discussed in a previous post, Diego Garcia's original inhabitants were here until the late 1960's. From the mid-1800's up until then, they (with a French initiative) ran a peaceful and successful coconut industry on the island, exporting as many as four million coconuts per year. Yesterday, with the permission of the British Representative on the island, we were lent the key to the gates of the dirt road that leads to the abandoned remains of what used to be a thriving plantation community of 1,100 Chagosians.

The paved road ends about 19 miles outside of town, and from there it's another three gates and 11 miles of bumpy trails. We went in one of our field project's pickup trucks, and were also accompanied by our friend Carlos, the one who works as a linguist here, who was able to show us what he knew about the plantation. If the atoll were a clock, the plantation would be at about three. We traveled counter-clockwise from the eleven o'clock position to get there. We were hoping to make it all 37 miles to the other tip of the island too, but the trail became impassable about 4 miles from the end.

The road

On the way there we passed the feral donkeys and massive coconut crabs, and at times the atoll was so narrow that you could easily see both the lagoon on your left and the ocean on your right.

 

Entering the plantation

The plantation was utterly mystifying. Almost all that remains is concrete, and all is silent and overgrown. It was made especially haunting by the fact that we were the only ones there; I've toured other ruins before, but they were overrun with tourists just as eager as me to try to understand a forgotten culture. The jungle and whispering breeze breathed in on us as we walked through building after mossy building, many now entirely canopied.

Capra drying house

Anonymous jungle residence

Another

Plantation manager's house

Inside

Coconut/palm processing facility of some kind

"Gaol"

Plane crash from WWII

The old pier and loading dock

It would be hard to describe the sort of sobering fascination this experience gave us. I could've spent hours strolling through the lost columns and walls, imagining an era. It's possible to camp out there as well, although we were regrettably short on time left on the island. It would be a truly incredible experience I think, to lay among the palms and pillars and look up at a piercing deck of stars and the soupy stripe of the Milky Way, completely unadulterated by light pollution.

Also during our time on this side of the island we checked out the military's R&R site, which utilized another old plantation cabana-type building farther north as shelter and had a pavilion, barbecue pit, and (submerged) volleyball court for groups to take time off from the other side of the island to enjoy. We also stopped at Turtle Cove before reaching all the gates, which is an area at the southern terminus of the island where the ebb and flow of tides in the lagoon leads to veritable rivers of seawater moving inland and back, much like the Bay of Fundy. From the little wooden platform there we saw sea turtles, crabs, and all kinds of fish. Adam had put his sandals behind the truck when we parked, and then when we returned thirty minutes later the incoming high tide had washed them "upriver".

Platform at Turtle Cove

Our faithful steed newly encompassed by water when we returned, Carlos laughing, and Adam somewhere behind the cameraman searching for his flip-flops

Carlos told us that all over the island the effects of the rising sea-level are being noticed. There are no more deep expanses of beach to use, just thin strips along each side. The volleyball court at the R&R site was partially underwater. The dirt trail we were on near the plantation was practically below sea level at some points, kept from complete flooding only by narrow banks of dense growth. And Turtle Cove continues to ebb farther and farther inland, around palm trees, old signs, the road.

Volleyball posts at the R&R site

The island will suffer one of two fates. Either the sea level will continue to rise at such a pace that eventually it will be too much to combat, and the island will succumb to the new climate man has created... or, the sea level will remain manageable, the American military will choose not to renew its contract on the island, and it will likely become commercialized. After having really gotten to know the island and its history, especially after yesterday's experience at the plantation, I think that either would be a truly sad fate.

For now, we will sit, watch, and absorb the island's beauty in the here and now. Departure in two days. We may never return, but if and when we do, Diego Garcia will not be the same.

- Gavin

Launch Lapse

Time lapse of one of our balloon launches: http://youtu.be/RBUc0V7v8f4

Patrons

I watched tonight's sunset from the "Short Pier" just west of our barracks on the Indian Ocean. It was particularly stunning due to its inclusion of nearly every type of cloud. Even gravity waves. And Jupiter right before the cut. YouTube link: http://youtu.be/Pb6s-vKwFKw (pardon the switch to the low-light setting at the very end)

We continue to check out new places on the island, including Mene Gene's Burgers, the cannons, the 300-seat pavilion where they show a different movie every night at 2000 (and 2200 on weekends), and the Officer's Club for brunch. There are usually exactly zero people at each of these places (we have yet to see a single other person at MGB, only ever seen one other guy watching the movie, etc.). It's even rare to see someone else at the pool, or at the marina wanting to sail, snorkel, or windsurf. This leads to a strange aura of maintained abandonment about the village part of the island. Perhaps sort of like an overzealous and under-frequented Great Plains roadside attraction. We posit that the Navy (specifically the MWR Office as Adam discussed in the previous post) keeps these places open and staffed regardless of patronage. Intriguing...

And now for your biweekly installment of semi-relevant photos:

The pool (and oddly enough, one of the highest points on the island - they built up the land instead of digging it out to diving board regulation depth)

Public transportation for the contractors

The Navy's "Ship Store", the large general store with better business ethics than Walmart

British Police HQ

A typical Golden-Corral-style meal at the Mess Hall

-Gavin

Shred the Gnar

During our residence on the island, the favored downtime pastime has been windsurfing.  According to the locals, we are presently exiting the "windy" season.  Given the past couple days, this does not appear to be the case.  The trade winds have steadily gained strength in proportion to our windsurfing skills. 

Let's start at the beginning.  Upon entering Diego Garcia, we were informed that on the Indian Ocean sides of the island (the entire outside border of the island), the British Indian Ocean Territory (BIOT) police strongly restricts getting anything above your knees submerged.  If caught you are fined in the unavailable currency of pounds.  Our hopes of board enabled water sports were initially crushed considering the only waves of decent period and swell height (the two most important factors when considering surf-able waves) are in the Indian Ocean.  We are restricted to the lagoon for all water activities.

An Athlete and a Scholar

We then discovered that the Navy Morale, Welfare, and Recreation Division (MWR) operates a Marina containing windsurf equipment, ocean kayaks, and stand up paddle boards to use in the lagoon.   Even better, the windsurf equipment costs $2 per day to rent.

Using the smallest sails of the windsurfing fleet, we started carefully with the 3.5 sail (3.5 refers to the surface area of the sail in units of meters squared).  Windsurfing is different from regular surfing.  You must counter balance much more because you are essentially holding an aluminum baseball bat that is 10 feet tall and referred to as the mast.  Aside from the added weight of the sail, the extra pressure created by the wind against the sail is potent.  A falling mast placed correctly on the cranium could easily concuss a grown man.

We progressed quickly to the surprise of the instructors and fellow windsurfer-ers and have since upgraded our sails to those of much large surface areas.  We have even begun the process of using a harness to attach ourselves to the sails.  This creates a new and veritable cornucopia of hazards that serves to heighten our "stoke" for the sport.

Celebratory Swim

We've even become proficient at the art of tacking.  For those unfamiliar, tacking is the process by which you turn the front of the board so that the wind pushes from one side of the sail and then quickly to the other.  Since windsurf boards don't have a reverse, you must change the board's trajectory by changing the direction in which the wind is pushing the sail.  Furthermore, since you can't change the direction of the wind, you must change the orientation of the sail.  Anyway, it's hard.

Pinning It

Our intuition and skill for the sport is growing daily and soon enough we will be "Shredding the Gnar".  If you have to ask, you wouldn't understand.

Videos:
Gavin
James
Adam

-Adam

Brewskis and Olive Oil

Yesterday the shifts worked out just right so that I finished up the 12Z launch, headed back to the hotel, and then we donned our mandatory bike lights and helmets (after a brief flat tire issue with James' Diamondback) to go check out a few of the bars on a Diego Garcia Friday night.

Before that, though, I met a few of the local Filipino weather service guys who came out to Tent City (official name Thunder Cove) to see the 09Z launch. The non-Aretha-Franklin-backup-singer-looking guy in the photo below had never launched a weather balloon before, so he got a kick out of doing that. Their weather office, as mentioned already by Adam, is rather procedurally- and instrumentally-paltry, e.g. their surface obs station doesn't work, so they do temperature and humidity measurements with a handheld Kestrel and air pressure measurements with (get this) an antique barometer in the office (just give it a little tappy), and of course their Doppler is fully functioning but "is not broadcast, accessible, or archived." Tremendous.

Anyway, back to the bars - we first went to Jake's Place, an open-air, pavilionesque place with ample deck seating, a blindingly-illuminated lagoonfront, and even a Filipino cover band (covering Katy Perry, Miley Cyrus, Rihanna... you get the picture). It was definitely the weekend place to go for all the local contractors. Beers were only $2, and you could choose from MGD, Coors Light, San Miguel (a slightly jarring Filipino brew), Budweiser, Heineken, and of course your requisite Corona for only a dollar more.

After shouting/miming over the amps for about an hour at Jake's we decided to make our way to the Brit Club, a stone's southward-directed throw from the Marina. This place was also open-air but resembled more of an unfinished church basement than a pavilion. Plenty o' concrete. We encountered many more people of our age (five or ten years older instead of thirty) and hemisphere though, which was cool. We even met one of the Control Tower guys from whom we telephonically request air clearance before each balloon launch. We also met this dude Carlos who's working intelligence/translating here on the island - grew up in Spain, lives in Norway, has lived in South Africa, Italy, Houston, etc. and has all the languages to show for it, plus Portuguese. We now have a place to stay in Norway and another friend to join us for the 2014 World Cup in Brazil!

Today was the sunniest day yet we've experienced on the island. The pool was quite the paradise this afternoon, despite "No Flips" off the diving board. James was on day shift, but out at the site we have a reclining beach chair we found by our secret lagoon that we dragged over and utilize in between sunny daytime launches, so he wasn't suffering that much. I'm currently on the midnight shift listening to Another Saturday Night by Cat Stevens and watching the distant lightning out the portal window. I'm hoping that the rains hold off until after the 2:15am launch; otherwise I have to rub olive oil all over the inflated balloon so that it will continue to rise through the freezing layer of the troposphere without water clinging to it and freezing, thereby making the balloon heavier and causing it to sink (and then melt, rise, freeze, sink, etc.). I imagine this awkward, windy oil application being just slightly easier than a greased pig competition. But I wouldn't know.

-Gavin

Midnight view from the launch site's beach; the lights are ships stationed in the lagoon.