Just after 11pm on the 28th of March 2005, the people of Nias were woken abruptly from their sleep. An earthquake measuring 8.7 on the Richter scale began shaking the ground violently, up to a few feet vertically and horizontally according to those caught up in it. Lasting for several minutes, its epicentre was located just a few hundred kilometres off the west coast of Nias.

People struggled to get outside to relative safety, and walking wasn't possible without getting thrown to the ground. Within minutes, many of the concrete structures on Nias had either collapsed or were severely damaged. According to Red Cross statistics, 647 people died as a result of the earthquake and 2260 were seriously injured; a large number considering the island's small population of 400,000 live in simple low level housing. Almost half of the deaths occurred in the capital Gunung Sitoli, where the inner city was almost entirely reduced to rubble.

In the Lagundri Bay area, the locals of Sorake beach were already highly anxious after the December 26 earthquake and subsequent tsunami. Between early morning and the afternoon of December 27th, the tsunami had arrived slowly as a tidal surge, washing in and out several times before flooding the seaside village past the road to the base of the hillside, one hundred metres inland. The following morning the ocean had subsided leaving fish on the reef, and damage to several of the wooden buildings that weren't built on high off the ground on poles.

As the devastation in Aceh became known in the following days, the Sorake Beach locals began to fear another earthquake. Many were only willing to risk daytime down at sea level, where they could keep one eye closely on the ocean. When dusk approached they'd retreat to the elevated village of Botohilitano. This continued for a month before they slowly began to move back down to their own village to sleep at night.

Then, that night in March, the tremors began without warning, just as most people would have been asleep. After three months slowly regaining the confidence to sleep back down at sea level, the villagers of Sorake Beach had their worst fears realised. Even after talking to some of the locals, it's hard to imagine what it would've been like. They described the ground thumping considerably in all directions. This frightening situation continued for several minutes as people tried their best to get outside amongst the screaming and chaos.

As the quake eventually stopped, many people ran to higher ground and back to the village of Botohilitano. Others remained at sea level, some in shock or too frightened to move, others looking for their loved ones. Smaller aftershocks came and went, followed just a few hours later by a tsunami that struck Lagundri Bay with more force than the December 26th one had, due to its much closer proximity. Wooden buildings were washed away and fishing boats were later found in pieces at the base of the hill. Many of the concrete houses along Sorake Beach that had partially collapsed during the earthquake, were further ruined by the powerful torrent of water.








In the southern Nias region of Telek Dalam, where Lagundri Bay is located, fifty-two people died. Remarkably there was no loss of life in the Sorake Beach community, situated on the southwest side of the horseshoe bay, location of the famously idyllic righthand point.

The destruction at Sorake, however, was monumental, with local houses, surfer losman and other dwellings completely destroyed and uninhabitable. Rubbish and rubble covered the beach and although international aid came immediately, telephone and power connections were down for several weeks, the water supply had been contaminated by the tsunami, roads were broken, incomes were lost and food was in short supply.


CHANGING HORIZONS

Four months later: Rainy season seemed to have come early. Most days were cloudy and there were sporadic torrential downpours, strange for August. Maybe it comes earlier the closer you get to the equator in this part of the world, or perhaps it's a sign of the times. In any case this wasn't really a concern as head-high waves were breaking daily onto the reef.

Four months before, prior to the quake when the reef was submerged two metres deeper, small swells such as this wouldn't have broken. Instead they would've passed over the reef towards 'Kiddieland' where young locals and travelling beginners would've gorged themselves while serious surfers had to wait it out for something bigger to arrive.

For the local surfers, who predominantly comprise of boys and teenagers, this was one major positive to come out of the March 28 earthquake. Overnight their ideal but overly placid beginners wave vanished as the entire landmass was elevated one to two metres out of the ocean. Suddenly the coral reef in and around Lagundri Bay became almost permanently exposed, where previously it had been almost permanently submerged. No longer did high tides wash up under the surfer losman sitting high on stilts.

Although it took the locals a week or two to pluck up the courage to surf again, they'd been presented with something they could only have dreamed about before. Sorake Beach's famous wave was now breaking with the same mechanical hollow perfection in small swells, as it had previously only done when large.

The locals were visibly stoked to be surfing these waves each day. Suddenly they had barrels to pull into and lips to smash. The travellers were happier too, able to surf something fun and alleviate the boredom of waiting for a solid swell. The only losers in this equation were the youngest local kids, who now had to learn on a small and short closeout onto dry reef, and the travelling beginners, who've managed to find their way to Nias over the years. With Kiddieland gone their options had all but disappeared.


CHILLING REMINDERS

The Asoka was getting me drunk. Thankfully its alcohol content was very low for a local drop because we'd polished off a lot of it, first from a bucket and now onto the bottles. Various brands of clove cigarettes were also being smoked in large quantities.

Otorius, a local and one of the only people with any interest in surfing (now even shallower) Indicators, way out back of Nias' main break, had been making regular runs on his bicycle to pick up more of the white-spirited hip flasks. Five of us - four travellers and Otorius - sat around spinning yarns for hours under the clear night sky.

Suddenly, the longhaired figure who'd been lying silently nearby for the last few hours, had jumped cleanly from his hammock on the veranda above, over the railing, and was standing braced on the ground six feet below. "Fucken earthquake, get outside" he shouted with genuine alarm in his voice. About this time the ground began to tremor mildly before dying out a few seconds later.

Instantly wide-awake, Horras Hilton had no desire to return to his hammock, and came over the join the party. 'How did you feel that before it'd even started?' I asked him. "Because when the earthquake (March 28) hit, that's where I was lying, and the hammock slowly started moving more and more," he said.

Eventually the quake got so strong that it broke Horras' hammock sending him falling to the ground. "I felt like I was standing on waves because the ground was shaking so hard, said Horras laughing. Horras says he wasn't scared but he had thoughts of Aceh and wondered if his time had come. In the days following the quake, many of the travellers that'd stayed in his losman (aptly named the 'Hilton') over the years tried contacting him, worried about his welfare. Unfortunately the telephone lines were down for some time before Horras could put their minds to rest.

Although it was late August, almost five months after the quake, the small tremors seemed to occur every other day. The first travellers had begun returning in June. Natural foot long-term Nias devotees Phil Goodrich and Mike Nevius were two of the first on the scene. They scored numerous swells with hardly anyone out, as well as some of the heaviest and hollow waves ever to break inside the bay.

Just two months later enough rumours had spilled out, and any perceived danger was far outweighed by the intrigue of the chance to rediscover something already perfect, but obviously somehow changed. This unique and rare chance led to many surfers reaching the same conclusion, and by August any arriving surfer soon learnt that although they'd made a good call in coming, dreams of perfection free of other surfers was not about to happen. During my three week stay, I had a couple of regular Nias surfers comment to me that it was more crowded now than they'd ever experienced before. In today's surfing world, especially the waters of Indonesia, you have to act fast or be more original in your approach than going somewhere four months after a major earthquake, if its untouched waves you're after.

The locals too, were providing far more competition for waves than I'd experienced, when I first visited Nias in 1996. Just about all of them surf well, and the most radical travellers as well as surf DVDs are having a large influence on them. Some of the locals are amongst the most vertical and flowing surfers in the water day to day, and when it gets really big there's a few of them like Antonius Dachi and Avenus Zagoto who'll charge harder than almost anyone.


EXPLOITATION?

When I first arrived, the hillside houses around Gunung Sitoli had looked remarkably undamaged as I looked across from the upper deck of the Pelni Ferry, making its way into the port.

The first noticeable damage I saw was a large whole in the wharf. Three policemen were standing around, making sure nobody fell through it. Then as we headed south towards Lagundri, in a chartered bemo I'd hired with Tommi, a Sorake Beach local surfer I'd met on the Pelni, the effects of the quake became more visible.

Driving through the centre of the capital Gunung Sitoli, there were huge empty lots where buildings once stood, the only evidence of their previous existence being piles of rubble. Only a small percentage of buildings remained standing, no doubt many of them badly cracked and unsuitable to live in.

Destroyed and cracked concrete buildings were evident along the entire five-hour journey to Lagundri Bay. Wooden buildings appeared to have stood up to the earthquake better. UN tents and other aid agency tarpaulins were everywhere as were hastily built school classrooms. At one stage we drove across a concrete bridge that had slumped sideways, yet was still being used, no doubt by lack of choice.

This made me wonder about my reasons for coming. Admittedly I saw an opportunity to possibly surf crowd free waves, as well a chance to see just what changes the earthquake had made, if any, to the waves. But I was also interested to see what damage had been caused on land and hopefully help in some way.

Surf Aid International were one of the first on the scene to offer relief, as were other NGO's such as the Red Cross, who arrived on April 1 to begin supplying water to Telek Dalam for four months. According to David Pedrveza of the Spanish Red Cross, they had moved out of emergency phase and were now into development phase. Based at the partially damaged Sorake Hotel, their five-year programme focuses on construction, health, water supply and sanitation.

Numerous other agencies such as Mercy from Singapore, and Texan Jim Karl's quickly established TEARS International (Tsunami Earthquake American Relief Services) were quick in providing considerable and much needed assistance. Another group to offer assistance were eleven surfers who passed briefly through in late August. Jason Litzow, a Gold Coast pharmacist and Rufus Brand, a South African traveller, explained to me how YWAM (Youth With A Mission), a Perth based Christian group had come to surf and visit Christian churches. They'd been handing out medical supplies, had donated money to one badly damaged Lagundri Bay church and were holding youth groups at the same church.

On the hillside above Sorake Beach, a TLC (temporary living camp) was set up to house thirty-five families who lost their homes. Situated higher up the hillside in Botohilitano, another TLC of sorts was set up, as many families were afraid to sleep in their badly damaged and cracked houses at night.

So where did the surfers fit into the scheme of all of this, apart from to enjoy the surf? Down on Sorake Beach a large proportion of the tourist losman had survived the quake and many of them were slowly doing business again, generating much needed income for their owners. Others were completely destroyed, taking away a family's source of income. Even though four months had passed, the locals were still wary of sleeping down at sea level. Some were returning, but by and large they only came down during the days to cater for the surfers.

It soon became apparent that despite the hardships they'd had to face, the locals were resilient and in remarkably good spirits, at least on the surface. Most unaffected seemed to be the children who were as resourceful as ever, quickly intersecting any potentially hungry surfer exiting the water, on the edge of the reef, before opening their plastic containers filled with their mother's baking. By offering credit and joking they were able to break even the stingiest surfers, using the money to pay their way through school.

The locals were clearly happy to have the surfers back so soon, which must have provided them with much needed income as well as moral support in the face of adversity. The surfer's had all come for the same reason - to surf. And just by being there and spending money, they were all helping more than they realised.

Some offered more like the Australian staying next to us, who apparently put up all the money needed for a family to rebuild the losman they'd lost in the earthquake. Other's like Eduardo, a Brazilian surfboard shaper staying in the room above me, gave one of his five boards to a local surfer whose style and attitude he liked. All around there were good vibes, surfers giving to locals, and locals respecting the travellers in and out of the water, understanding the importance of having them there.


SORAKE BEACH CARE FOUNDATION

Although Lagundri Bay is sometimes inaccurately described as a surf slum, albeit by ignorant, self-serving types, it's only in these budget surf land-camps where a local surf scene can develop. It all starts when surfers kindly donate a board here and there, or at least leave some broken pieces behind.

Twenty-five years on and Sorake Beach locals are taking responsibility for their beach and showing leadership in their community. In July 2004, three local surfers - Kornelius Zagoto, Pilipus Zagoto and Magdalena Wau - formed the Sorake Beach Care Foundation. Their mission was to make the beach safe and clean for tourists and locals.

At first their activities were limited to providing rubbish bins at Sorake Beach, as well as holding a beach cleanup every Saturday. However with the March 28 earthquake causing so much destruction, something had to be done to clean up the large amount of concrete rubble now littering the beach.

One night, over numerous bottles of Asoka, Kornelius, who is the chairman of SBCF, and other members, explained to me their project named 'Pantai Sorake Indah Dan Sehat' (beautiful and healthy Sorake Beach). With backing from Surf Aid International, their project, which started on September 12, was to firstly focus on cleaning away the rubble from the damaged houses along Sorake Beach. This was going to take around a month and would be followed by building a system to keep the rubbish under control, and finally the landscaping of the beach - all short-term initiatives.

In the middle term they plan to find a better solution to the way that locals sell artefacts to the tourists, so they don't feel so hassled. They also want to address parking issues, and in the long term, try to educate the community on how to manage their losman better.

Although the local community is still wary, it's good to see a young intelligent group of surfers deciding to take charge. These locals surf the waves they need, yet happily share them with the tourists they're trying to encourage to come in larger numbers. 'We need more people to come here and we plan to make a difference,' Kornelius told me.

Long gone are the locals who once had a reputation for causing problems with the travelling surfers. SBCF have stamped that out, and to them, the land base surfers who come and spend their money have ultimate rights to the wave. If a boat turns up with travelling surfers, they're met by a couple of SBCF members, who charge a daily tariff for each surfer on board.

Eventually, after a few weeks of waiting the cloud cleared off and a big swell hit. A solid crew was in the water on a perfect eight-foot morning. Natural footers dominated, happy in their-own little corner of Indonesian front-side nirvana. The goofys were happy to be going backside and the locals were their happy and vocal selves; thirty surfers happily sharing the waves as harmoniously as thirty surfers can share one break.

It seemed to me that this was the gift, or help, that travelling surfers have provided the Sorake Beach community with, not just post earthquake, but more importantly over the past thirty years. Nias has become one of the rare examples in Indonesia surfing, where, a local surf culture has evolved naturally from the influence of travelling surfers to the stage where its own surfers, and not foreigners, have a chance to dictate the future of surfing in the area.

by Paul Kennedy © 2007