Chasing Waves

 

  

Photos courtesy Sumatra Surfzone Missions; www.surfzonerelief.org.

 

Surfers have been reaping the benefits of Indonesia’s perfect waves for decades; following the December 26, 2004 tsunami, they’re helping the people deal with the most destructive one on record.

 

By Terence Loose

 

S

ince the 70s, Indonesia has been known to surfers as a Mecca for perfect waves – one that takes a religious dedication to enjoy. As recently as a decade ago, they braved deadly bus rides and boat trips, daunting jungle hikes, malaria and more just to satisfy their desire for a ten second tube. But demand created a booming tour industry and soon the area became a surfing playground, with surf camps and a fleet of air-conditioned yachts catering to a much better-heeled surfing crowd. All that changed with the breaking of one massive wave,  and now, Indonesia is known to the world as the epicenter of the deadliest wave in recorded history. The December 26 tsunami was the result of a 9.0 earthquake centered 20 miles from the coast of Simeulue Island, off the northwest coast of Sumatra; it killed over a quarter million people and left hundreds of thousands more homeless, injured, and in dire straights.

The world stepped forward to help. And so did many local surfers, who put down their boards and joined in a fight to give comfort and aid to a region and people who had given them so much pleasure.

 

Sumatra SurfZone Relief Operations

Bill Sharp hadn’t been to Indonesia for more than 20 years, and had no immediate plans of returning. But that changed on December 26. Since then he’s spent nearly a month in the wilds of indo, logging over 38,000 miles of traveling, not many hours of sleep, and zero waves surfed.

Sharp, a 43-year-old journalist and consultant who organizes promotional events for major surf companies such as Billabong, is a man who knows the power of big waves. He built his reputation by charging the Wedge in his hometown of Newport Beach, and was the brainchild behind the Billabong XXL, an annual contest that awards $1,000 per foot to the rider of the year’s biggest wave. So, despite the relatively light news coverage of the tsunami’s impact on Indonesia, Sharp knew that that country’s casualty and damage rate was going to be high. He also knew he had to help.

“I make my living from big waves,” he says, “so I had to do something, or I couldn’t hold my head high.”

At first, Sharp planned to do what he does best: get the word out. As a journalist he was frustrated by the lack of information coming out about Indonesia. “The original reports were from Thailand, where the western tourists were, but I knew from the location of the epicenter that Sumatra was going to be smashed,” he says. He planned to fly to Indonesia and document the relief efforts of SurfAid International, a nonprofit aid organization stationed in the Mentawai Islands of Indonesia (more on SurfAid later). Other surf journalists had been dispatched by surf companies and magazines – Huntington Beach filmmaker Timmy Turner; photographer Dustin Humphrey; Surfer Magazine writer Matt George (his brother, Surfer Global Editor Sam George signed on soon after).

When they got to Padang, however, they were told there was no room for them aboard the SurfAid vessel, which was sailing for the Indonesian island of Nias. Sharp and the others understood – doctors and supplies would have to be left behind to make room for them – still, they were disappointed. But not dissuaded.

Within hours, their mission changed, from one of documentation to direct help. Sharp says one of the things they recognized was that as surfers they had certain skills that many other more professional agencies lacked. “I’ve been doing the Billabong Odyssey trips [hunting for waves in the remotest corners of the earth] for years and have gotten pretty good at organizing a group to move somewhere fast, with a lot of equipment, into totally unfamiliar surroundings,” he says. George has spent his life doing the same, and Turner has spent three years of his 24 camping in some of Indonesia’s most far-flung reaches. “Basically,” says Sharp, “We’re used to showing up in the middle of nowhere, not knowing where the hell we are and with no contacts, and working things out.”

In their first discussions of what to do, Sharp and crew decided they’d concentrate on the “surf zone.” They would look for places where their intimate knowledge of reefs and surf would be uniquely important. Though most of the devastation and loss of life was centered in the Banda Aceh region of mainland Sumatra, they decided against going there immediately. “From the beginning, we said, ‘We’re just a bunch of surfers, what good are we there? We’ll just be in the way,’” says Sharp. So, typical to their surfer subculture, they decided to try for Simeulue Island, one of the most remote islands in the region and the Sumatra Surfzone Relief Operation (SSRO) was formed. Though the island was only 20 miles from the epicenter, official reports claimed that the island and its villagers were fine.

Sharp didn’t believe it. His gut told him that because the island was filled with villagers who got their sustenance from the sea, even if the people themselves survived the stories-high wave, there was no way their fishing canoes and equipment could have. “I just knew that these people were probably terrified and cut off from the sea, their main source of protein,” says Sharp. The SSRO mission statement was formed: one, bring immediate aid in the form of food, water and medical help, and two, get the Simeulue people back on the water and self-sufficient again.

The first thing they needed was money. Sharp had a $50,000 home equity credit line on his Newport Beach home. He doesn’t have that any more. Next, they scoured the city for supplies, everything from produce and water to mosquito nets, fish nets, and paddles. Three goats and six chickens made the final cut. It soon became overwhelming. “In the beginning I was wondering how many pounds of stuff we’d be taking. The next thing I knew, we were talking tonnage,” says Sharp. The final tally was 37 tons. To pay for it all, they made a deal with a local restaurant to exchange their dollars for duffel bags of rupiah. (A five-cubic-foot bag full equals about $5,000.) “No one took American Express,” jokes Sharp.

They were told there were no boats available, but they tracked down a dilapidated 80-footer, named the Mikumba, to make the three-day voyage to Simeulue Island. They were told there were no doctors available, but for a $50-a-day family stipend each, they found three doctors in the local hospital who were eager to sign on. “We worked hand-in-hand with hardcore Muslims, and I never felt any hostility toward us [because we were Americans],” says Sharp. “That was really encouraging, and I have a totally new outlook now.”

That doesn’t mean they didn’t face challenges, though. People tried to rip them off, half their load was almost pirated, a storm battered their boat on the first night out of port, and a maze of coral reefs slowed their progress. But they pressed on, finally reaching Simeulue Island at dawn of the third day out.

Even before their landfall, they knew they had made the right decision, as recorded by Matt George in his dispatches from the boat:

Dawn found the Mikumba dropping anchor in the bay at the northernmost Simeulue point, scant miles from the earthquake’s epicenter. On shore, 40-foot palms held household items in their fronds like a laundry line from hell. The main village was completely leveled. The rivermouth reshaped, made much wider, choked with debris and sand…. We were met on the beach by hundreds of villagers in a desperate state, and it was there we fashioned a crude refugee camp for over 2,000 souls who ring this azure bay. Acting quickly under alternating deluge and blistering heat, [we] fabricated a large medical tent and another for the distribution of aid supplies…. We [distributed] over 200 rescue buckets, one ton of dried fish, one ton of fruits and vegetables and sundry tools and materials for rebuilding…. Work continued until dusk. By day’s end our medical team had treated over 125 injured and sick and set up a quarantine area for six tuberculosis cases discovered.

Offloading the relief supplies proved more difficult than loading them and transporting them. Because the reefs of these islands were thrust right up out of the seabed, leaving the sand beaches sometimes hundreds of yards inland, it took all their surfing knowledge to get the goods to the islanders. First they had to negotiate the breaking waves, then the coral reefs. “And forget the helicopters and Land Rovers you see in the Red Cross commercials,” says Sharp. “Every pound of our 60 tons went in on someone’s back.”

They continued circumnavigating the island until their load was emptied, then returned to Padang to start a second mission. Sharp flew home to lobby the surf industry – and anyone else he could – for funds, then returned to Indonesia.

The second wave was dedicated even more toward getting the islanders self-sufficient again. Sharp and crew bought 16 canoes and another $15,000 worth of relief supplies, in addition to the $17,000 in boat charter, doctor and labor charges, and returned to Simeulue. This time round, they were even more resourceful – Sharp decided rather than burn a day getting official approval to enter the province (because of civil war, it’s been off limits to foreigners for 20 years), Sharp forged papers. “There was such an urgency. People were dying,” he says. “So I decided it was better to ask forgiveness than ask permission. Besides, I’m pretty good at typography.”

Sharp says that second mission was funded completely by donations and he’s begun to see some repayment of his $50,000 personal investment. But if he doesn’t get fully reimbursed, he says he’s not sweating it. “No regrets,” he says. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I figure, I’ve still got a nice home, the people we helped have nothing.” Well, thanks to Sharp, now they have a little more than nothing.

 

SurfAid International

While the tsunami sent a wake up call to most of the world, one group of surfers was already “in theater.” SurfAid International has been battling preventable, but deadly, diseases in Indonesia’s Mentawai Islands, a 100-mile archipelago off Sumatra, since 2000.

In that year, a New Zealand doctor and surfer, Dave Jenkins, chartered one of the dozens of luxury yachts ferrying surfers to some of the planet’s best waves in the Mentawai Islands. His goal was simple: find great surf. He did. But he also discovered something more. While surfers danced on perfect waves all day and lounged in air-conditioned yachts sipping cold beer by night, a hundred yards away, just beyond the shore’s tree line, people – mostly kids – were dying at an alarming rate from diseases the Western world had eradicated 100 years ago.

Malaria was the worst killer; it was a modern-day plague. Studies showed that, among the mostly forgotten Mentawai people, it would kill 32% of children under 12; 50% under the age of five. As for other preventable diseases such as whooping cough, measles, diphtheria, polio, tuberculosis, and tetanus, many villagers had never been given immunization. Most Mentawai people relied on local shamans and village healers for their medical needs. Death and disease was a part of everyday life.

It was a tragedy that Jenkins could not in good conscience ignore. “Because the mosquitoes that carry malaria only come out after dusk, he knew that with simple, inexpensive methods like treated mosquito nets, which cost a few bucks each, he could make a big difference,” says Robert Gerard, an Irvine attorney and lifelong surfer who serves as volunteer chairman of the Board of SurfAid and considers Jenkins a hero.

For Dr. Jenkins, the decision was clear. He quit his practice, sold his home and moved to the Mentawai Islands, setting up M.A.S.H.-style medical treatment facilities and handing out as many mosquito nets as possible. He and a small team of doctors visited villages upriver by long canoe, set up camp for the day, and did as much good as possible. He also gave immunizations and began an education program. SurfAid was formed.

The next year, SurfAid got its first donations from Lonely Planet Publications, Mitchell Surfing Foundation and local surf apparel giant Quiksilver. And though SurfAid received some publicity over the next few years, the Mentawai islanders’ plight went largely unnoticed. This, despite the success of SurfAid’s pilot projects, which yielded a 75% reduction in malaria parasite rates and tripled immunization levels.

By 2002, Jenkin’s drive was still strong, but his organization’s resources weren’t. The surf community had yet to step up in any significant way and many on his staff hadn’t been paid in months. Wrote Surfer Magazine’s Steve Barilotti at the time: “SurfAid, the fledgling surfer-run NGO, is lurching down a short runway, suffering from chronic underfunding and burnout. The situation is past dire.” Jenkins knew, without SurfAid, that the situation of the Mentawai islanders was even worse. So he made a final, passionate plea to the surf industry at the 2003 gathering of SIMA in Cabo San Lucas, a festive event attended by virtually every surf industry giant. Immediately, Billabong, Quiksilver and Reef got involved and SurfAid breathed new life – literally. Last year, in addition to surf company backing and Adopt-A-Village programs, SurfAid received close to $90,000 from the governments of New Zealand and Australia. By the end of 2004, they had given 20,000 vaccinations. SurfAid was on track, with a clear goal and plan of attack.

Then the wall of water came.

Incredibly, the Mentawai Islands were spared, so Jenkins and his team went mobile again, this time to another surfing Mecca, the island of Nias. Though Nias was only 175 miles north of the Mentawais, it sustained catastrophic damage. Within days of SurAid’s decision, six-figure pledges from Quiksilver and Billabong, along with a $300,000 matching grant from the New Zealand government, came in, allowing SurfAid to secure four boats in Padang and bring tons of medical supplies and emergency relief goods, doctors and nurses to Nias. Like Sharp’s crew, the SurfAid group had a huge head start and was the first aid organization to reach the island.

When they did, they found a people devastated. Though less than 300 people had been killed, over 2,000 had been left homeless, frightened and cut off from the sea. Doctors treated the injured, such as a 15-year-old girl who suffered a compound fracture of her leg in the tsunami, two burn victims and a nine month old with intestinal worms, and delivered tons of relief supplies. They also gave immunizations, something not always an easy sell in primitive village culture.

 “But,” says Gerard. “SurfAid is ultra-culturally aware. [We] ensure that the village or local leadership is on board with what we’re doing.” Important, since the leadership is often Muslim or shamanistic and sometimes wary of western “help.”

Leaving a contingent on Nias to continue rescue and aid work, SurfAid set sail for Simeulue Island, to the north. There, in the Alafan district, they found what the SSRO mission had weeks before: 100% damage to housing and public infrastructure. “The people had fled to higher ground and were living in shacks built from debris,” says Gerard. Here, they distributed over 100 tons of relief items, treated everything from chest infections to skin diseases, and conducted vaccinations for children.

But as bad as it was in the month following the tragedy, SurfAid doctors worried the worst may not have come yet.

“Malaria is a potential second tsunami,” says Gerard. That’s because the monsoon season has descended upon Indonesia, and with it come intense rains. The brackish ponds left by the tsunami will desalinate and accelerate mosquito larvae breeding. With the lack of sanitation, an epidemic is possible.

Fortunately, SurfAid is better funded than ever before. Local surfwear giants, is now as dedicated as the doctors in the jungle. And donations are not stopping there. “Just after the tsunami hit, I sent an email plea for money to everyone I knew,” says Gerard. He expected to get a few donations. “Within a week, I had $50,000 promised. The response was overwhelming; it almost brought tears to my eyes.” Since then, big names have come on board. Jackson Browne, Ben Harper, and Jack Johnson from the music community. World-renowned surf stars like Kelly Slater, Rob Machado, Mark Occhilupo, and Rochelle Ballard, have also stepped up. The running total? Over $1.5 million.

Pretty good for a bunch of surfers.

 

To learn more or help:

Sumatra Surfzone Relief Operations: www.surfzonerelief.org.

SurfAid: visit www.surfaidinternational.org or call (760) 753-1103.

 

 

Chasing Waves Part II

In the wake of Katrina, Bill Sharp and Matt George of Surfzone Relief Operations went to work again, this time using their big wave and Personal Water Craft (PWC) skills to save victims of the most destructive U.S. hurricane on record.

 

W

hen Newport Beach’s Bill Sharp, a journalist and surf industry consultant, jumped on a red-eye to Houston just days after Hurricane Katrina ravaged the south, becoming a hero to hundreds was not his plan. He, along with Frank Quirarte (of Maverick’s Surf Rescue), and intrepid surf journalist and explorer Matt George, were merely going to offer back-up and technical support to the many California firefighters, lifeguards and other personnel who had been dispatched to the area. As big wave surfers and surf rescuers, they had honed their Personal Water Craft (modern Jet Skis) skills in the most hostile of environments, towing each other into six-story-high waves and, when rides didn’t go exactly as planned, rescuing each other from mountains of water. And perhaps more importantly, chasing storm waves to some of the most primitive spots on earth, often with only hours notice, gave them a set of MacGyver-like skills lacking in many bigger, more professional agencies.

So when the call went out for volunteer watermen, they were among the first to sign up.

In Houston, they rented two trucks and drove to Baton Rouge to pick up two PWCs donated by Yamaha. In desperate need of sleep, they planned to stay the night, but calls from rescue task force personnel began coming through, asking for supplies, so they pressed on, stopping at every Wal-Mart along the way picking up everything from socks to tools to food.

They arrived in New Orleans in the middle of pitch black night, thanks to Katrina knocking out all power. There were no signs – most were destroyed in the hurricane – no one was around, and they had sketchy directions, says Sharp. But that’s sort of a surf explorer’s comfort zone. As Sharp puts it, “We’re used to showing up in the middle of nowhere, not knowing where the hell we are, and working things out. It’s what we do best, think on our feet. The big government bureaucracies and NGOs, though vital and very helpful, have too many regulations. They get in their own way.”

Finally they made it to Zephyr Field, the New Orleans Saints practice facility and the relief effort headquarters, with thousands of rescue workers and National Guardsmen sleeping in cots. After spending the first few days making runs back to Baton Rouge for more PWCs, they began to equip and train the rescue workers on them. But again, calls started coming in: rescuers needed the PWCs for pulling people out immediately, so Sharp, George and Quirarte volunteered to go.  Soon, they were making up to 50 rescues a day, pulling people off roofs, out of attics and protecting them from waters Sharp calls “unspeakable.” His crew was operating in the city’s worst section, the east side where the poorest of the city lived in projects next to the industrial section, which had drained toxins into the flooded streets. “Petroleum, toxic chemicals, rotting plant and organic matter, bubbling gas lines. It was so far from the cleansing, life-giving ocean water we embrace as surfers, I wouldn’t even call it water,” says Sharp.

Fortunately, one of the things they had grabbed during a supply run were chest waders usually used for fishing. But while they protected them from the waters, they also made the 95 degree heat and high humidity nearly unbearable. “By the end of each day, we’d have pints of sweat in the bottom of the gators. At least we hoped it was sweat, and not the water,” says Sharp.

Other hazards were not so apparent. More than a few times they would be motoring along what used to be a city street, now a river, and hit “nautical hazards” like submerged trucks and street signs. One sent Quirarte’s PWC airborne.

And though they had prepared themselves for the worst, they were still unprepared for the toll the tragedy would take on their own emotions. They saw things that will not be forgotten soon. Dead bodies – one lady had hanged herself over a railing – gravely ill elderly, petrified children.

In one rescue, Sharp and his friends helped evacuate a family of 19 from a school. The family had been holed up for eight days, in sweltering heat on the second floor – the entire first was flooded – and growing low on food and water. But they had refused to leave, cut off and ignorant to the scope of the disaster. Finally, Sharp brought in a local cop, a man who they knew as a friend. He convinced them to get in a row boat, which Sharp towed with his PWC, and after the family got a few blocks away, they broke down in tears and just started repeating “Thank you, thank you…” “It was the greatest feeling ever,” says Sharp.

Coming from Sharp, that means something; this is a man who had been in the trenches of disaster relief before, specifically in the aftermath of the December 2004 tsunami.

Sharp and his crew brought more than 60 tons of relief supplies to the islands off of Sumatra, saving countless lives, and, most important, getting many of the villagers, who live off the bounty of the ocean, to trust the sea again and become self-sufficient again.

They also created the Surfzone Relief Operations (SRO), with the mission of giving humanitarian aid to victims of coastal disasters where surfers’ intimate knowledge of surf zones and coastlines would be uniquely important. “We foresaw that there would be other coastal disasters,” says Sharp. “I just never foresaw it happening in the U.S.

Just nine months later, Katrina hit U.S. shores. And though a hurricane is vastly different than a tsunami, much of the destruction was the same, mainly due to the fact that it was not the hurricane’s high winds that caused most of the damage, but the massive flooding.

And though Sharp is quick to point out that he was amazed at the many selfless souls who risked everything to help people they had never met, he says he’s disgusted at the levels of ineptitude of many government officials, the bureaucracy and the “deceitful marketing” of some NGOs. But when it comes to the men and women on the ground, Sharp has only admiration. “I saw first-hand the best and the worst,” he says.

Now, his goal is to bring the surf industry, with all its power and money, into the mix, not just for Katrina’s aftermath, but the inevitable coastal disasters that lay in wait. “It’s embarrassing to me that the surfing community is so lacking in support,” he says. He says that aside from Billabong and Surfer Magazine, very few surf companies support humanitarian issues. Instead, the surf industry has historically put its charity money towards environmental concerns. “And don’t get me wrong, that’s great. I’m all for it,” says Sharp. “But within the last nine months the two greatest coastal disasters of modern time have hit. Isn’t it time the surf industry has a humanitarian assistance system to help? We all live on the coast. We’re going to have something happen here, someday, and all I can hope for is that someone will feel the way I did and come to help me and my family.”

 

Surfzone Relief Operations is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit. To learn more, visit www.surfzonerelief.org.