Simeulue Island
Exploring a still fairly remote island on the north-western-most end of Indonesia, where on any given flight more surfboards than passengers travel.
If you’re not quite Torren Martyn or John John, and you don’t have the time, resources or skills (not to mention patience and guts) to take a boat to entirely remote places and surf essentially by yourself — then perhaps the next-best thing is a trip to somewhere like Simeulue.
It sits at the very western and northern end of Indonesia, off the coast of Sumatra. Getting there is a sort of medium-effort mission. The only real obstacle — and probably the main reason it’s not yet that busy — is that there are only a handful of flights to the island every week. And that those flights charge you around 60 USD extra per board. Three boards, return, you’ll probably be doing some maths in the taxi on the way to the airport.
Most likely more money spent on surfboards flying than on people.
With essentially 80% of passengers being surfers, there’s a lot of cash crossing the counters at check-in. Probably more money spent on boards flying than on people and their regular tickets, which at least provides a sort of funny twist.
Handler or No Handler
When I arrived in Medan, at the check-in counter, I was immediately intercepted by a very friendly local guy who told me I absolutely needed him to make sure my board got on the plane. “It’s competing with all kinds of other cargo,” he said. And of course with all the other surfers and their board bags.
I thought I half-remembered some pro-surfer YouTuber (maybe Nathan Florence) talking about using these “handlers” to get to Nias and places like that. I just couldn’t remember if he had said to use them — or definitely not to use them. But I thought it was: use them. Also, the guy was super friendly. Not sleazy, not pushy. Ok, let’s go.
I was a little shocked and felt slightly ripped off when he told me I had to pay him 1,200,000 IDR (about 70 USD). At the time I wasn’t aware that the airline alone takes 1,000,000 IDR (around 60 USD) per board. Ultimately the “service” he provided wasn’t bad: he just took my passport and ran straight to the lady at the counter, who stopped everything she was doing to check me in ahead of the giant queue that had formed.
It took no more than thirty seconds. So I didn’t feel too bad about it. I would almost recommend it — especially in high season — although jumping the line is a bit of a dick move. Then again, not getting your boards onboard would be a serious annoyance. Trade-offs.
1.2 million IDR / surfboard.
About 70 USD. The airline alone takes around 1 million IDR (~60 USD) per board on top of the ticket. The handler’s job, in practical terms: take your passport and bypass the queue, bring your board to the oversized luggage belt.
If the math feels too steep, there’s an alternative that most first-timers don’t hear about until it’s too late unless they do their research. Local operators in Medan will collect your board bags from the airport or your hotel, drive them down to the coast, and put them on the cargo ferry to Simeulue. The price runs around 1,000,000 IDR per board bag (roughly 60 USD) regardless of how many boards are inside it — so the more boards you bring, the better the deal looks against the airline’s per-board fee.
This requires some careful planning. You have to allow a buffer of a couple of days on each end to account for the ferry times. Especially on the way home, you have to dispatch the return shipment a few days before you fly out, travel back to Medan with a single board for that last session, and pick the rest up at the Medan airport when you land.
Surfing destinations develop their own economy. It’s the lodges, it’s the “parking” at the spot, it’s the cafés and restaurants, the surfboard rental and repair; in this case a surprising amount is the logistics around getting there, and around what you bring with you.
On the Island
Once your boards survive the flight, the actual travel begins. Simeulue is mostly one road that loops the coast, a handful of villages, and a little bit of traffic of motorbikes carrying everything from chickens to surfboards to a family of 8.
Lodging options split pretty cleanly in two. You can either stay at one of the higher-end surf lodges — Aura, Mahi-Mahi, Dylan’s, Island Time and a few others, mostly run by foreigners — the proper surf-trip operation with food, guides, and a board rack waiting outside. Or you can find a local place with full board for a fraction of the cost. The serious surfer might bring and pay for a couple of extra boards, but bunk at the local babushka. Food is usually amazing no matter what option you go with. Even the hipster nutritionist will have a hard time complaining about fresh caught fish in coconut sauce with rice, veggies and fruit. Worth knowing: in the off-season the bigger resorts can feel a little abandoned — two or three lonely guests rattling around a place built for 15. In the main season they might tip the other way and feel a touch too crowded. Make your pick.
The roads themselves have very little traffic, but attention is very much required to make it through the obstacle course that is: dogs who absolutely do not care you are coming around the turn, hermit crabs mid-commute, stubborn gangs of goats, cows that have decided the middle of the road is a great place for a nap or feeding their young, and buffalo. Their horns are huge and they’re hard to see when they step out of the jungle right onto the road in low light. Morning and evening twilight on your scooter, rushing to and from the spot fast, is in fact the time not to push the throttle too hard.
And it’s not just the roads. The whole island feels like it is positively vibrating. Practically every session, large sea turtles come up to you in the lineup, doing a very cute periscope-style look around — “where are you, weirdos on styrofoam”. At dusk an army of hermit crabs is climbing the beaches back to the treeline; don’t mess with the big ones, they have a nasty pinch on them. The jungle sounds are a pleasant backdrop especially when you are sitting alone in the lineup looking at the sky, the lush hills, the palm trees while waiting for the next set. At night, tiny mosquitoes that are barely visible can be a bit of a torture. Bring your repellent, it’s hard to get once you are on the island.
Apparently, a few months before I got there, somebody was eaten by a five-metre saltwater crocodile. “They’re on the other side of the island,” the locals say dismissively. Very reassuring. Just that little extra spice you need if you are already thinking too much about pythons, stonefish and seasnakes. Which I don’t, so all good.
The Reason You Came
Past the cargo costs and the cattle and the giant insects in your roof, there’s of course a primary reason to be here. The waves are usually glassy, mostly hollow, mostly long, and mostly empty by mainland Indo standards.
A Mellow Lineup
The other thing you notice quickly is the tone in the water. Simeulue still has that pure, generous atmosphere between surfers that’s become rare in most surf destinations. Nobody is sharking around. People will openly tell you what worked for their morning session, which spot might be on in the afternoon, where they’re heading at sunset. There are enough waves to go around for everyone. It’s very fun indeed.
Reminds me a little of how lineups change when the swell gets bigger and more consequential. It becomes less of a competition and starts being a support system. People nod, watch each other’s waves with shared enjoyment, swap a quick word about what’s working and what isn’t — share the stoke. When people feel more vulnerable, they become more kind, it seems like.
When Boards Break
And they will. There is reef to deal with, especially when you get in and out. The same underwater topography that makes the waves shape so nicely will also mess up your boards and yourself. First session, I belly surf in, hit both fins of my twinny into the reef that was more shallow than I expected. Damn! But well, they seem to be holding in for the moment.
I was surfing with this gentleman surfer from Wales for a couple of sessions. At the end of his very last one, about to leave the island the next morning, he himself belly surfed in a wave that ended up doubling up on the inside shelf and threw him — loins first — onto a jagged rock, while the nose was ripped off his board by the reef. He was bent over holding his blue berries, barely able to walk to the check-in counter the next morning.
If a repair is urgent, luckily there are a couple of small ding repair set-ups. One right behind Aura and Mahi-Mahi. And the guy who runs the little restaurant right at Dylan’s also repairs boards. There may be more. Still, always a good idea to bring a basic repair kit with you.
Heading to Sumatra or elsewhere in the archipelago? Find a surfboard repair shop in Indonesia before you go — or anywhere else you might be travelling.
Where did you travel to lately? Found any shacks there? Endorse them on DingShacks to help other surfers find them too.