"The only thing keeping this guy safe was social distancing."

Jeffreys Bay, South Africa: It was tough enough for the hardened surfers to stand down during an epic swell at Supers on Friday, March 27, but it was made intolerable by the fact that an American surfer paddled out, twice, and surfed it by himself.

(Read local report here.)

So when the lockdown hit on Friday, many local surfers, some with line-of-sight of Supers were shocked, dismayed and then eventually outraged that this guy decided that he was special enough to surf it, while the rest of the country was in lockdown.

When they discovered that he was also a blow-in, things didn’t improve much. 

The surfers in J-Bay and surrounds are a proud and robust bunch and are recognized for their solidarity and standing tall when the shit hits the fan. 

At the moment the shit is heading for that fan in South Africa and it’s coming in fast. COVID-19 has just hit the St Francis Bay community, home of Bruce’s Beauties thirty minutes drive from J-Bay, and local surfers everywhere are doing what they can to help by working together.

One of these things is obeying the law.

It’s a national state of disaster, and beach access as well as surfing is outlawed. Breaking the law could see fines or jail time. Going to jail in South Africa right now would be a grim proceeding. You’d sit until after the lockdown, timeline indefinite, and you’d probably emerge with a funny walk.  

When word filtered out about the American doctor surfing Supers the local surfer community Whatsapps were flaring.

The one phrase echoed over and over: “What makes him so fucking special?”

The only thing keeping this guy safe was social distancing. 

We tracked him down.

His name is Joseph Hardeman, thirty five years old, from San Francisco California. 

BeachGrit: You surfed at Supers during the lockdown. How long did you surf for?

JH: When I surfed the day before the lockdown, I had spoken to some of the brus, and they had talked about cracking it at first light. So I paddled out in the dark and surfed for a bit, but it had morning sickness, so I figured that’s why no one joined me. I had breakfast, and the waves were so pretty, and I went out again. I didn’t know surfing was not allowed yet. My girlfriend came down on the beach, and when I came in my host family told me that the town was Whatsapping them in a rage.

But you must have known about the surfing lockdown? Every man woman and child in JBay knew about it. It was being blared out from every screen and every piece of printed paper.

We had just got to J-Bay, weren’t settled and didn’t have wifi.

What about your hosts (a very sweet surfing family from JBay) getting the abuse? The fact that you paddled out a second time is most likely what pissed everybody off.

You’re right. I am ashamed and sorry. There was no way that I thought I was putting that family in any sort of risk. I thought one thing, then I learned, and now I feel completely different. It sucks being a visitor and having the town mad at you. I don’t think highly of myself; I just love surfing. Most would probably say that I’m an idiot.

We all love surfing.

I wish I could take it all back. I hate that I provoked such anger. My girlfriend hated the fact that she was the ‘chick’ on the beach and that she dates an idiot. I got my ass handed to me through WhatsApp and through the community.

Are you still going to go with the thread that you didn’t know about the lockdown?

I knew about it; I just didn’t think it included surfing. I’m committed to social distancing. I do appreciate the opportunity to tell my story, even though it sounds bad. Being out of the loop is hard to know what the hell is going on. Being a visitor is a much different experience than being in communication with the crew. I can totally understand how me paddling out looks entitled and self-centred, disregarding the community stance. The day before the lockdown there were so many rumours, it was pretty confusing. Now not so much. The whole situation is shocking. We had no idea what to expect. It would be nice if we could have a little understanding that we just arrived in JBay, knew no one, and had no wifi.

I’m sure the locals will hear you out and accept your apology. You’re stuck here now, and we’re all in this thing together. If shit goes down, you might need to volunteer your medical expertise.

I’m also going to volunteer to do some work in the prepping for COVID-19. Maybe I have some skills the community could use.

By the way, what stance, and what board were you riding?

I’m a regular foot, and I was riding a 6’3″, SOS Scarlet Letter, swallow-tail.

What else do you get up to, when you’re not pissing off locals?

Well, I have a Professional big-wave career.

Really? Do tell.
I tied second place with Tazzy (Anthony Tashnick) and Nick Lamb at the recent Nelscott Reef event (won by Jojo Roper). I am also in the running for a Mavericks Surf Award for Biggest Wave. I hope this hasn’t messed up my aspirations to surf some big waves in South Africa, and I hope my mom won’t get too bummed out by this article. Thanks again for listening. I’m totally jealous of this community here and ability they have to stick together.

https://www.instagram.com/p/B9jzhjXgizb/

"This is like the Bali Bombing all over again. But this time it's the Chinese. Are they going to pay us all back for letting this thing escape?"

Wave wise, you don’t have to imagine what Bali was like 100 years ago.

It’s like that right now.

Totally empty Uluwatu, Padang Padang, Impossibles, Keramas, all the bigs.

Shut down.

Although I am still trying to convince authorities that I am only trying to look after my health by going surfing. I have promised to run down the beach and into the water and then run home when I am done.

Which is as normal behavior for me as washing my hands a coupla times a day anyway.

And to say nothing of the cosmic connection of well being.

Imagine the authorities…uh…concern when I describe surfing thus: “Gentlemen, it just may be that through surfing, deep in the elemental magma of our souls, we have tapped into one of those rare acts on earth that allows man a true atavism; an opportunity to return and to touch, if just for a euphoric moment on the face of a rushing wave, the primal relationship man shares with the living mass of his origin.”

Well.

Yes, well.

Anyway, the authorities ain’t buying it.

Just like the cops in Padang, West Sumatra who have the entire Mentawai charter world in a chokehold.

I also took a spin around the Bukit Peninsula to get a vibe and figured out that the Bingin locals have got it made.

Unlike Uluwatu’s sprawling metropolis, the Bingin locals, who all live cliffside, may be suffering from lack of tourists, but certainly not a lack of waves. Hard enough to find for a tourist already, now that the road blocks are up around Bingin, locals like Betet Merta are surfing in a time warp on the most symmetrically shaped small natural wave in the world spilling over an absolutely flawlessly shaped reef.

Three guys out in that natural wave machine.

Man oh man.

Other than that, to get a take on what our top surfluencers are thinking about all this Covid 19 business, I reached out to them in their quarantines.

Here are a few of their thoughts.

Betet Merta, pro surfer, on individuality:

Why do we have to be like everyone else? We do it our way. Bali people have been though so much forever without this social media. Panic is not good. Why do we have to follow the rest of the world? If the surf pumps, nothing will stop us.

Marek Smith, surfer, bar owner, on philosophy:

Covid 19 is the wake-up morality pill of Morpheus. Transcendent in inept structures now left as paper shields.

Wayan Susiana, cafe owner surfer, on murder:

During the rainy season I am more worried about dengue with my family. At least with dengue you can see and kill the enemy.

Lorca Lueras, archivist, surfer, on breatholds:

The world is going through a two-wave hold-down right now. All we can do is persevere

Marlon Gerber, pro surfer, on conspiracy:

I think it’s a big hoax with a bigger picture behind it.

Sima Rai, pro surfer, on money:

I feel anxious about whether I will be able to protect my family. My money loss. And long-term lifestyle for poor people.

Name withheld, ding repairman, surfer, on blame:

No tourists no money. This is like the Bali Bombing all over again. But this time it’s the Chinese. Are they going to pay us all back for letting this thing escape?

Jannos Amsters, sailor, surfer, on vacation:

I just hope it all blows over before everybody gets whamm-oed. Nice being at sea though, away from it all.

Five different expats, surfers, on fear:

No comment for fear of immigration reprisals

Mick Curley, photographer, surfer, Father of two, on sex:

Nice to see the environment getting a break. Letting her catch her breath. Also nice to see this thing boost family values. Its your choice how your family handles this. I am staying positive, doing positive things. Like right now I am going to massage my wife. You understand that positive actions bring positive outcomes?

Rick Bison, musician, surfer:

Can only say that my one year old is priority number one. Should I send him up in a balloon?

Mustafa Jeksen, pro surfer, on prayer:

It’s pretty simple. Help your country, help your family. And pray for surf.

Pete Jackson, photographer, surfer, on risk:

Watch out for those goddamn street sprayers. What’s in that shit anyway? It’s like to burn the skin off the back of my hands.

Fabian, healer, surfer, on purpose:

Time to slow down and really reflect on what our real purpose her on earth is.

Mark Clift, surfing judge, pro surfer, on the Aussie way:

Fuck this thing.

Marshello, Lifeguard, surfer, on the modern world:

Whatever happens today has happened many times before. The only difference is we have newer technology. But is that a good thing?

Andy Johnson, hotel owner, surfer, on the obvious:

Livelihoods of millions sacrificed to make the one per centers even more powerful and rich. It’s so obvious.

Dede Suryana, pro surfer, surf shop owner, on fishing:

Rasa khawatir dalam setiap kegiatan yang melibatkan orang lain. Takut memberikan virus atau terkena virus corona dari orang lain. Tidak bisa berbuat banyak kecuali diam di rumah dan ini akan berakhir sampai kapan?! Sekarang saya memulai bercocok tanam sebagai bekal.

And fishing

Raditya Gondi, pro surfer, on self identity:

I am so scared I cannot surf. If I do not surf, who am I?

Eric Lee, boat captain, surfer, on Pangolins:

I don’t think I’m religious but Karma cannot allow the way humans treat the earth and each other. I say this on behalf if the Pangolin community that shares this planet earth with us.

Nick Auklor, Pro surfer, fitness guru, on surf media:

What’s BeachGrit?

Meanwhile, at J-Bay, South Africa, two gnarly Afrikaner cops with bullwhips stand as a gauntlet in front of the keyhole…

So I am sitting out front of the Best Western Mini Mart, wiping my bottle of warm beer down with a baby wipe.

I happen to be looking through the rickety bamboo beach closure barriers and out at the empty line-up of “halfway”. The spot where every single famous Indonesian surfer in history rode their first wave (and to this day, much to the chagrin of funky visitors, still surf it with the same enthusiasm).

Near me is the most infamous surf photographer in the world. He’s working the neck of his bottle with a baby wipe too.

We are both thinking that it’s not such a bad thing, this lockdown. It’s like a Global Nyepi Day.

Which, by the way, just ended here on the island.

The ceremony where you must stay indoors, shut out the lights and reflect on your life for 24 hours or get thrown in the slammer. Except this year, as mentioned before, Nyepi was government decreed to be 48 hours.

Hence the need for a beer in front of the Best Western Mini Mart as soon as we were able to roll away the stones from our self-quarantined dwellings.

The first places to open were the mini-marts. Seems everybody could use a bag of potato chips and an ice cream bar after all that reflection. Warm beer too (The fridges were on self-quarantine as well).

This afternoon, the infamous photographer and I are watching a trickle of people making their way down to the empty beach past the Happy Face Surf School billboard. Some triathlete guy in a pair of sluggos and goggles, a super skinny longboarder (is this a pre-requisite these days, or is it because that kind of physique combined with those short shorts remind us of Stephie?).

A pair of Russians bodyboarders strolled by.

Da.

You know they are Russian because they carry their bodyboards like AK-47’s and are peppered with those scary tattoos you see in all those movies about Russian assassins. These guys never have to worry about social distancing, ever. No one wants to go anywhere near them on a good day.

There are a few pedestrians out, dodging antiseptic spray trucks and the hungry hookers who are zooming around on their scooters looking for the lonely. Both male, female and in between.

The hookers, I mean.

I do not see one single Indonesian citizen, other than the hookers, out and about.

The Indonesian devout know the rules, respect their beliefs and stick to them.

There is a reason this island has never fallen to a foreign power even though Bali has never had a military.

Unlike the asshole American the other day who wanted to “exercise his personal rights” by going to the beach on Nyepi day. He looked pretty chastened when he was roped in chains and thrown like raw meat into a cell of mouth watering criminals at the Hotel K.

The photographer six feet away from me was telling me about what was going on over at J-Bay in South Africa.

He owns some apartments there that he rents out to the LOST team during the contests (Hoping against hope they don’t burn them down or graffiti clever slogans on the walls).

Anyway, he’s telling me the a big J-Bay swell is coming but the beaches are shut down.

Now I don’t know if any of you have ever had to deal with South African cops, but I have and I can tell you I would rather face the Russian bodyboarders.

Aside from Afrikaner cops being among the world’s gnarliest bruisers they are also really, really bright.

So how to keep the surfers from a perfect J-Bay swell?

Easy.

They shook down two surfers for the info on where the best place is to be stationed to stop surfers.

So there they are today, two gnarly Afrikaner cops with bullwhips, standing as a gauntlet in front of the keyhole.

Problem solved.

One can close one’s eyes and imagine Bruce Brown’s dulcet tones about all those millions of perfect empty waves breaking right now.

Jesus.

Unfortunately the surf in front of me was only ten inches.

An advantage in a certain sweaty industry, but certainly not in ours.

But taking it all in, all in all the photographer and I reckoned things were going okay here in Bali.

So fear not for us expat sinners.

All is as well as it could be in these troubling times.

After all, the sunset was beautiful, and the beer, though warm, was at least in hand and somewhere a speaker was playing the music of our mutual friend Jack Johnson singing about a monkey.