The search continues...part deux

...our first night camping on Little Andaman was a success (except for the sand fly bites from sleeping on the beach.) The next morning, Toni and Krishna headed back to Hut Bay to catch the next ferry to Port Blair. Camping was not exactly their cup of tea, even when it was facilitated by such great guides. Thus, Noah, Ryan and I were left with Manu and company for the rest of the excursion, which made things easier as we all got along so well and were motivated by the same factor: surfing. That second day the waves were even bigger and we had two really good, long surfs in the morning and at night. In the middle of the day the sun was a little too intense to be in the water for so long. Noah and Ryan slept in hammocks set up in the shade and I took the time to catch up in my personal journal. My company was now so great that I got to really enjoy these moments alone, whereas in the first portion of my trip I felt overwhelmed by the lonliness.
While surfing, we could look west just far enough to see the south-western tip of the island, the location of the world-class wave, Kumari point. We had been expressing to the guides (with some difficulty now that Krishna, our unofficial translater, was gone)that we wanted to hike the rest of the way to Kumari point. They said it was another 10 kilometers and were very wary of the idea as it entails journeying deep into the Onge tribal reserve. They finally said that we would leave the next day at noon, when the women and one man would head back to their home at Harminder Bay with loads of fish. Two men, Manu and Vimon, would be taking us to Kumari Point. Life camping at the lighthouse was very good. We had great surfing and very good meals waiting for us whenever we got out. The feeling of surfing a remote break that has been surfed by a very limited number of people, in such a beautiful setting, is indescribable. Being out there with new friends, hooting each other on was also an extraordinary feeling. I felt as though I were finally living that dream that began when I was 6 years old, standing on the arm of our living room sofa, arms stretched wide in my best surfing position, moving my hips to the sounds of the Beach Boys' "Surfin' USA." I feel truly blessed to have the opportunities I have to live all of my dreams.
The next day we went for a long morning surf, again with great, hollow, peeling left hand waves, then began to pack up for the trek to Kumari Point. Again Ryan, Noah and I sped ahead in anticipation of even greater waves, if that was possible. We left right at midday, which made the walk brutal in the intense heat. I would constantly apply loads of sunscreen, and then my face would burn as though it were insulated and I would sweat profusely until the sunscreen once again dripped off my face. To make it worse, we were unsure about the fresh water situation, so we were trying hard to conserve our 3 litres per person ration - making the hike and the heat the worst we suffered the whole trip. A couple hours in, I spotted a dark spot in the sand way ahead that looked like a possible river bank. We approached and discovered the most beautiful river with a little waterfall near the mouth. It wound back and allowed us to view deep into the thickets of the jungle. Immediatly we all pounded a litre of water, feeling very gluttonous and letting it spill down our chests, and then refilling our bottles using my filter. We were now at the base of the cove that led out to Kumari Point and were near the Island's western side, deep into Onge territory. Everything about this side of the Island seemed more wild. We saw lizards that measured at least three feet and, looking upstream, the jungle looked thicker, greener and larger than any we'd viewed in our time in the Andaman's. We waited by the river for our guides, partly to soak our feet and relax, but mostly because we were so nervous about running into the tribal Onge's. Our guides carried much heavier loads than we did (another reason we were so far ahead) and were exausted when they finally arrived. They announced that the river, named Jackson Creek, would be our campsite. They would go no futher. So the three of us dropped our stuff, and headed out the rest of the way to the point with a litre of water. The sun was getting low and there would be no time for a surf, so we just wanted to check it out, return to camp and get our surfing done in the morning. On the walk up we could see white water working its way down the point. Though, as we neared, the size of the white water did not appear to grow. Alas, we reached the point only to discover knee-high waves lapping directly onto the shore...not even surfable. We looked around and discovered dry patches of sand in between raised, dead coral. We believe that the tsunami killed and lifted the reef (as it did in a number of places) and thus killed the epic right hand known as Kumari point. Ah well...we would have to settle for really good lefts at the lighthouse (we called the spot 'lighthouse lefts')...poor us. We spotted an Onge hut just off the beach and decided it was time to head back to camp. The beach between the point and the river was the most beautiful I've ever seen: a huge expanse of packed, perfect white sand, boardered by the most magnifiscent, calm stretch of aqua-teal colored water (there were no waves or wind at the base of the point to ruffle the water)on one side and the thick jungle full of greens not even seen in the great Pacific Northwest on the other. The sun set as we walked back and the sky opened up to the stars. The moon came late and, being who knows how far from any sort of light, every single star in the sky was illuminated. The flat expanse of white sand was now a soft silver and so smooth and uninterupted that I could walk the whole distance with my eyes to the stars without having to worry about tripping or stumbling. That night, after Manu cooked dinner and said, "now I am woman," we sat on a log by the shore and drank a flask of vodka with our guides (upon their request.) The next morning we left early to avoid the heat, and hiked the entire 20 kilometers back to Harminder Bay. We left our surfboards at the village, then ventured back to Hut Bay to gather supplies for our second voyage to the lighthouse and to inform the manager of the lodge that we still needed our single room to store all our extra baggage. The following morning we were back in Harminder Bay. Vimons son greeted us and took us to his hut where Vimon had carefully stored our surfboards in a safe place - he understood how important they were to us. Vimon, who had been rather quiet on the trip, now greeted us with big hugs and welcomed us into his home, where he fed us and served us his home-brewed rice beer. We had gathered a crowd of some twenty children and adults in Vimon's little hut as he excitedly danced around and spoke to us in a very fragmented english. It was absolutely wonderful. "My home, your home," Vimon told us, and we knew that he was as sincear in his gesture as humanly possible. Vimon explained to us that he had adopted many of the children we saw around, who were, we assumed, orphaned by the tsunami. We would've liked to also see Manu, but he was already back out fishing! Vimon did not let us leave until we were all a little drunk...and so we half stumbled out of his hut, surfboards underarm, our packs now heavy with rice, pots and other supplies, and with a line of about 20 kids behind us. We made a couple wrong turns and the kids, giggling, redirected us on our path. Then we were off. And again I only have a minute left on my card, so I must sign off. More to follow on my amazing adventure. I hope that everyone back home is happy and well. -Sam

The Search Continues...

...We headed into the jungle with Manu at the lead. After a short hike through the forest we emerged on the beach, where we hiked most of the 10 kilometers to the lightthouse. Rounding point after point, we eventually hit the southeast corner of Little Andaman and began heading West, the waves picking up significantly in size. Noah, Ryan and I were so excited by the sight of waves, we practically ran the last quarter of the hike and arrived at the lighthouse far ahead of the rest of the group. The lighthouse is surrounded by a small village that was destroyed by the tsunami and has since been deserted. Walls are caved in, windows broken and furniture and clothing is strewn everywhere. It was quite an eerie sight. But this village also had a working well, so we returned to it often for water throughout the trip and began to enjoy the dead calm of the place and sight of the buildings overrun by vines. Ten minutes beyond the lighthouse we saw a left hand wave reeling down a reef point, a good 100 meters out from the beach, past the lagoon. The sun was getting low, so rather than wait for the group, we waxed our boards, threw on our trunks and paddled out. From the shore the wave looked rather small. But once past the lagoon we realized it was around chest-head high, breaking hollow and better than we had percieved from the beach. There we were, three buddies, all alone in tropical waters, white sand and coconut palms lining the shore with dense, colorful jungle behind and perfect waves. "This is it!" Ryan said. This was it...total bliss. It felt so good to be in the water and we all caught some really fun waves. We stayed out for the sunset and then walked back in the dark, finding our guides' camp by spotting the fire set back in the bush. The wives had cooked us rice, sauce and fish that Manu had caught while we were all surfing. One thing we came to learn was that the Nicobarese don't just fish to live, they live to fish. Even while hiking, they'll stop to throw out a net if they spot a school of fish. While camping they set up a row of lines rigged to sticks they plant in the sand. They tie some loose bottles to the line and every so often you hear a little jingle and then see one of our guides rushing to the line to bring in the fish. At camp they set up several fires, each is bordered by stakes they carve from bamboo, on which they stack steaks of fish to slow roast by the flame. Our main guide, Manu, is a very quiet guy, but that night he was standing next to Noah by the shore, looking out into the ocean and at the great expanse of stars. After a long silence, Manu said, "It's a nice place, huh?" Yes it is. One of the things that make the Nicobarese so extraordinary and such a pleasure to be with is there respect for the land and sea and their constant enjoyment of their surroundings and their situation in life. And this only one year after the tsunami came and destroyed most everything they'd known. They are truly a remarkable people.
I'd love to write more, but I had to buy an internet card for this station and I only have a minute left. I will finish later (hopefully from a cheaper internet cafe). More to follow. 10-4. out.

TOTAL BLISS OR BUST

It has been nearly two weeks since I last had access to the internet, and so much has happened since then! It may take several posts for me to write it all down...so bear with me and be patient. Ah...patience. I quickly learned the importance of patience on a trip such as mine. When things are looking bleak, just be patient and they generally tend to come together. Patience, which I learned at a young age while shopping with my mother, is what took me from a lonely room in Port Blair, to a camp site in a remote corner of Little Andaman Island on a tropical beach, surfing some of the better waves I've ever surfed, while watching out for sharks, saltwater crocodiles, the world's most poisenous sea snake, and...oh yes, native tribal people notorious for shooting foreigners with their bows and arrows. But that's getting a little ahead of myself.
The night before my planned departure to Little Andaman, I stopped in an internet cafe to write Michelle one last letter and wish her luck on the beginning of her journey to Budapest. On my way out, I saw a young western traveller and said 'hello'. We struck up a short conversation and quickly discovered we had quite a bit in common: he and his buddy, both from California, had been in Port Blair for several days and were trying to get to Little Andaman to surf the notorious right hand break, Kumarie Point (Little Andaman is about the only somewhat accessable island in the Andaman's with surf). I told him about my difficulties aquiring a ticket, and suggested he show up an hour before the ferry the next morning to try to buy passage through one of the crew members.
The next morning, I made my way down to Pheonix Bay Jetty for my 6:30 ferry, where I found Noah, Ryan (the two californian's), Toni (a swedish guy I met the day before...did I mention him in my last post?), and Krishna (Toni's friend from India), who had all successfuly managed to purchase tickets for the 6 1/2 hour boat ride to Little Andaman. The ferry ride was very nice and beautiful from the top deck, but the Indians who preferred to stay on the lower decks were not so sea worthy and filled their quarters with vomit and aching groans...not a very pleasent place to walk through. After a long ride, we finally approached Little Andaman. Our first look revealed an Elephant hard at work on the beach moving timber. Our next look around revealed a somewhat less exciting sight: no surf. Well...one thing at a time. We all piled into a jeep with our luggage and surfboards and began the search for lodgings. ...I forgot to mention the dinner Toni and I had our last night in Port Blair. We ate with a large group who had just come from Little Andaman and had one peice of advice for us: "Do not go to Little Andaman." They said it was depressing, the people rude, and impossible to find a place to stay (they ended up spending their one night there on the floor of the school house). However, I had a connection from my hotel manager to the ANCOFED Guest House, where he said a room would be waiting for me. After asking numerous people we got our second bit of bad news (the first being the lack of surf), the ANCOFED Guest House does not exist. Great. But, we had Krishna whose linguistic skills proved invaluable as he served as our translater and, after jumping around between about 4 different guest houses, we had one room to share for the five of us. The cramped space didn't bother us one bit, we were ecstatic just to have a roof over our heads. At this point we boarded the local bus and rode it around its entire route of windy dirt roads through the jungle connecting littl communes of thatched huts and central markets. We stopped at one market and one beautiful beach where I chose to shed all my clothes and jump in the water, which was 75+ degrees and perfect.
Noah, Ryan and I knew that we needed to reach the south coast of the Island (Hut Bay, where our boat landed us is on the East side and the entire West side is a Tribal reserve for the Onge and Jarawa people) in order to find a beach that recieved swell from the open ocean. Kumari Point was located at the far Southwest corner of the island...our ideal destination. We spent the entire day speaking with fishermen about chartering one of their dhongies for several days to reach the south coast. Krishna was again very helpful in all these dealings, but no matter how hard he tried the arrangements always came full circle, from yes, no problem, to no way, leaving us exactly where we started. After so many dealings, we realized the people just enjoyed talking about the transaction, but no action ever took place. Other than these interactions, our encounters with the locals (all Indians) were long, glaring, suspicious stares that did not alter no matter how many smiles and waves we offered. The stares were quite isolating and sad. Little Andaman was completely ravaged one year before by the tsunami and with its super remote location it appeared as though reconstruction was just beginning. The people, I assumed, had grown so complacent due to the tsunami - their entire way of life had been destroyed by one wave, making them question the meaning and importance of there lives...and here we were searching out the biggest waves we could find so we could surf. hmmm... Late afternoon arrived and we were a little restless with our complete failure at finding a boat. So, Noah, Ryan and I rented bikes and headed in the opposite direction from the Jetty as Hut Bay and the bus route took us. ...we passed the ANCOFED Guest House. We by now had our accomodation set up and the bit of misinformation, which it seemed is all we'd received since arriving, only made us laugh. The pavement soon ended and we were riding on a bumpy dirt road that wound through a beautiful palm forest. Eventually, we approached a village with a sign in front that read "Harminder Bay; Tsunami relief village." It was a bunch of hastilly put together tin shacks, with dirt fields full of children - far too many children for the amount of adults, which instantly hit hard for me. These are the people whose lives and families were really torn apart. The people were all Nicobari, who (I discovered in my Andaman Tribal Book) had been moved from Car Nicobar Island to Little Andaman in the 60's and 70's. These people had all lived in coastal villages before the tsunami and the sea was their livlihood. They looked to be of a more Polynesian decent; short, beady eyes, wide features exemplified by their enormouse mouths that, to our delight and suprise, greeted each of us with huge smiles. The solace of the place at first affected our moods as we began to ride through the village, but as every single person we encountered greeted us with a wide grin and enthusiastic 'hello' we realized this was not the sad place we expected. In fact, they proved to be the happiest people I've met on my trip thus far and lifted all of our spirits with their kindness.
Back in Hut Bay, we made more attempts at getting a boat with no success. The next morning, Krishna woke us up at five saying a man had agreed to take us in his boat. We began to pack but stopped when Krishna came back saying the man had decided to back out...no suprise. We told Krishna about this village and together he, Ryan, Noah and I went back to Harminder Bay to see if we could find a ride there (Toni was still asleep). We had been in the village for about ten minutes. We were being served tea and chatting with some of the children as Krishna was off talking to some people. Krishna then aproached with a group. One man had his shirt off and Ryan commented, "Jeez, all of these people are so ripped!" It was true. Even the 70 year old men looked as though they could give us a whooping. Krishna announced, "This guy has said he'll guide us to Kumari Point (pointing to the dude with no shirt). We can leave in one hour." Just like that...a little patience and it all worked out. This guy agreed to drop everything he was doing and guide us to the south end of the Island on foot, for however long it would take, at 300 Rupees about 6 dollars)a day, a small fraction of what we were offering the fishermen. In several hours we were back at the village with all our gear and met our guide, Manu, who himself had amassed several more men and two women, all ready for the journey. From the village, we embarked into the jungle. One thing was on my mind: Total bliss or bust. To be continued...

rough roads ahead...

Well...Things are going well. Yesterday, after posting my blog, I successfuly navigated my way to the Indian Airlines ticket office, located in the back room, upstairs of a wharehouse/garage, and changed my ticket to leave Port Blair to January 26th without the surcharge that my itinerary indicated there would be. I was also able to stomach a hearty dinner, which is a first thus far. This morning I made my way down to Pheonix Bay Jetty and, after pushing my way around in line for an hour, was able to purchase my ferry ticket for Little Andaman leaving tomorrow at 6:30am. The trip will take 8 hours and is supposed to be very beautiful. Little Andaman, on the other hand, is sounding like it will be a difficult experience. It is so remote that they have only just begun to recover from the tsunami. I really have no idea what to expect...but I'm sure it will not be much. Also there are literally no other tourist headed in that direction, so it may be very lonely as well. But, as Michelle reassured me, I'll have my surfboard, and that's the whole reason I came here in the first place. In search of total bliss.
this morning I ran into a number of westerners at the Jetty. It was great to have a regular conversation in English...it can be very lonely when you are not only in a strange place, but unable to communicate with anyone around you. I will publish another post as soon as I have the chance, which, as I said in the previous post, may not be for several weeks. Know that I am well and will be taking care of myself as best as possible. Dad...your voice will be ringing in the back of head..."BE CAREFUL." I send my love to you all. -Sam

Paradise...lost?

Hello All!
My journey has begun! It has proven thus far to be far different than anything I imagined. It all began on friday, january 9th, boarding a plane at LAX after a wonderful two weeks spent with my lover, Michelle. On sunday at 10:00am, after over 21 hours of flying and practically no sleep, I finally arrived in Chennai, India, where I would spend one day before boarding a plane bound for Port Blair, the capitol city of the Andaman Islands. Chennai proved to be a difficult and trying experience. Upon getting off the plane, while in line to go through immigration, I was overwhelmed with a sense of lonliness unlike anything I've ever experienced. I'm no sissy-man, but I felt like curling up on the airport floor and crying my way back to the states. Instead, I pulled through and got a cab, headed for the Hotel Himalaya, a "mid-range" hotel. Apparently, "mid-range" in India means a room with no hot water, walls stained brown and literally falling apart, and infested with mosquitos. All I was given was a sheet to put over my head to ward off the bugs during sleep. I thanked the heavens for my malaria pills. I laid down on my stiff bed and wondered why the hell I'd come. Instead of dwelling on my lonliness, I got up to take a walk. The streets were rather small and unmarked, with alleys winding this way and that, so I chose to walk a straight line so as not to get lost. On this short stroll, I was hassled by numerous shop owners and taxi drivers, who were relentless in their pursuit for my rupees, and was grabbed and held on to by a begger who accused me of "not wanting to help." Great...this was making me feel a lot better. The poverty in this city was 10 times worse than anything I saw during my summer in Mexico. Concrete rubble, trash and human feces littered the streets. I found a little internet cafe and e-mailed Michelle and my folks, but I lacked the energy and spirit to write anything more. I fell asleep at 3 in the afternoon and slept until 2:30am, when I left to catch my 5:45 plane for Port Blair. The poverty here in Port Blair is not much better, but is on a much smaller scale and (most) the people are proving to be a lot more friendly. After bouncing between full hotels, I found one that would give me a room for one night. I then made my way down to the Pheonix Bay Jetty to try to get a ferry ticket for Little Andaman Island-the surf spot. After being pushed around by locals for an hour the office closed and I was left with no ticket...super. I walked around town, again wrote Michelle, and then went back to my room where I took a nap. Around dusk, I walked the local streets and markets around my hotel. In the falling light, everything seemed more peaceful and I began finally to enjoy my own company and my surroundings. I had yet to see one non-Indian tourist, and had thus been unable to communicate with anyone. That night, from the hotel I contacted another the Hotel Aparupa where I was able to make reservations for the next two nights. Finally some success in at least one of my endevors. This morning I made my way to the Hotel Aparupa (check out time was 7am!). The facility was much nicer - new rooms, nice location and central AC!! I had breakfast and took a walk, exchanging hello's with some of the local children. Today I have run into an old French man travelling alone and a Swedish family who had just arrived, I exchanged pleasant little conversations, but have little in common with either party. I tried unsuccesfully to make a reservation on Little Andaman. At this point, the hotel manager came upstairs and made many phone calls on my behalf, finally making reservations at the only operating facility on Little Andaman...his help has been invaluable. Apparently, none of the hotels have reopened operations since the tsunami, but he was able to get me a bed and toilet at a guest house with a partially standing structure. Amenities will be very sparse...acutally non-existent he warned me. There is an open market where I will be able to get food...ugh, the food is another topic I won't get into right now. So, in two days I will depart for Little Andaman where I will stay until the 25th or 26th. The surfing is not out of operation and I am interested to see what the conditions are...but I have learned not to raise any expectations for anything too high. It is likely that there is no internet access on the island, thus puting me out of touch for the next several weeks. Mom and Dad, if you do not hear from me by February 1st you may begin to worry. you'd think being alone gets more difficult as time wears, but it is actually the other way around. It is getting easier everyday. Morning and night, just before and after sleep, are the most difficult times. I once sort of envied the world traveller who spent his/her life from one destination to the next, but that envy has quickly turned to pity. Although this is a wonderful and important experience, I feel bad for those who wander aimlessly their whole lives for they have no true home. This experience is showing me the importance and the beauty of having a place to call home. It is a persons roots and loved ones that fulfill the essential well-being of life, and having those connections is what allows experiences like this to be so great...even if the greatness of such an experience is at times difficult to grasp. Home, I do not believe, necessarily has to be any one place in particular, but can be in a person. As they say, "home is where the heart is," and my heart is with Michelle. I think of her constantly and more than anything this trip is teaching me the great depths of our love. Since leaving, I have continuously scorned myself for leaving when I could be spending time with my lover. But it is being away that is teaching me the true meanings of our love. I hope that this message finds everyone happy and in good health. Take care...I will write again whenvever it is possible for me to do so. -Sam