Editor's note: Nathan Myers spent the last two years holed up in a foggy office in San Francisco, helping Matt Warshaw on the upcoming Encyclopedia of Surfing. He split in early September for a one-year, round-the-world surf trip, rewarding himself for the months of research. By the time October 12th rolled around, he had been on Bali for about six weeks, enjoying one of the more consistent Indo seasons in recent memory. This is what he saw.


It's three a.m., October 14th, and the sounds of surf and a patrolling helicopter outside my window in Bali have raised me from my bed to unscramble some of these thoughts still rolling round in my head. Maybe some of this is redundant -- I haven't seen or heard any news in weeks, so I don't really know what they've been telling you, but I can imagine -- but I thought I'd hurl my perspective into the pipeline anyway:

Any surfer who's ever been to Bali knows the Sari Club and Poppies Bar across from each other on Kuta's bustling Legian Street. It's where Western surfers go to drink Bintang and sportbottle sized Arak Attacks (potent Bali liquor concoction), and to boogie the night away amongst the sweaty droves of hot-pants hotties and cool-guy surfer studs. A bloody meat-market if there ever was one, but an exciting place to graze even if you're not a carnivore.

Situated between several huge mega-plex surf stores and a drove of other less popular bars, the Sari Club really pack's 'em in most nights of the week -- wall-to-wall surfers and surf chicks in a huge open air bar -- and it's a veritable surf industry fashion show, with girls dancing in bikinis and guys wearing boardshorts (and oh my god is that guy wearing a rash-guard at the bar? What a trend-setter!) at 11 o'clock at night.

11 o'clock at night. That's prime time at the Sari Club. "High tide" we called it last Saturday night while we were sitting there around that time. They charge a cover charge for locals, and Westerners get in free; so it's mostly Aussies, Kiwis, Poms and Yanks in there, mostly surfers and assorted other beachy vacationers. 11 o'clock. A car parked out front around that time, and from what I know, the driver walked about and detonated the bomb via remote. The hole in the ground where the car had parked was three meters across. The Sari Club was reduced to ashes. Poppies across the street was obliterated as well. Nearby hotels, surf shops, and stores were also severely damaged. The shock ripped through Kuta, shattering windows everywhere, upsetting cars and bowling people who weren't even near the scene off their feet.

I can only try to NOT imagine the moment. Eyewitness accounts have described to me in horrible detail the streets repaved in glass and scrapes of human flesh. Shock. Panic. Everyone running toward the beach for safety. Everyone screaming. . .

Camped out here at Bingin Beach (near Uluwatu), 20 minutes drive away, I heard the news first thing in the morning. My infinitely kind and gracious hosts were crying, taking stock of the their surfer guests and praying nobody made the all-too-common late-night Sari mission. News trickled in. The rooms at the beach filled up as more and more people made the exodus to the safety of the outer beach hostels. Surfers, in shock, just wanted to get into the waves to clear their heads. But even in the line-up there was tension and confusion.

I watched a Huntington Beach local stand barefoot on the waist deep reef and punch out a French surfer who dropped in on him. A Spanish surfer turned to me and asked, "what is happening in this world?" a Bingin local cried out, "America: don't bring your fighting here!" Everything was tense and weird. A bodyboarder hospitalized himself on the shallow reef. A Brazilian punched his girlfriend on the beach. I paddled in and sat dumbstruck among the war stories and bomb rumors trickling into our beachside sanctuary.

I haven't seen the news in the weeks, but I hear there's going to be another war.

I also hear a swell is coming.

As for me, I'm not going to try to make sense of any of this too quickly. And
I'm not going back to Kuta on this trip. I'm staying right here. I would like to note that the people of Bali are not - could not be - responsible for these atrocious acts of hatred (Bali is Hindu, while the rest of Indonesia is predominately Muslim) -- these people are across the board the most gentle, kind and caring people I have ever met, and these attacks, to some extent, were surely intended to smear that welled deserved reputation. I remain in Bali without worry. Two other surfer friends have just extended their stays -- even after, and despite the bombing. The more these acts of terror disrupt the Bali tourism, the more these terrorist were successful in their terrible ploy.

But I can just imagine what the news is saying. And I've heard enough about the bodies stacked up on Legian street. It's all quite terrible.

Tomorrow (now today), I'll make the trek away from my high tide line to e-mail off this bit of insomnia to those of you who I think might benefit from a different perspective. Thanks for listening. For now, I'll try to get some sleep.

think peace,

Nathan.


*For a Surfingthemag report of the bombings and how it affected other surfers, click here.
For a chilling and comprehensive report on the bombings from the mainstream press (The Age), click here.
And to make a donation to the World Vision Bali Relief Fund, click here.