![]() Except for some broken pieces of wood that could have been part of a boat or some huge teak log with sawn ends, there was nothing else to indicate the hand of man. Once, we discovered a mound of rubber slippers in a little nook of one of the rocky sections along the shore. When we returned the next year, it was like no one had ever been there. Join The Inertia+ for the price of an oat milk latte (or two bars of wax) a month. Early access and reduced pricing to exclusive events. ![]() Access to premium features and reporting.When the coming of the monsoons heralded the end of the surf season, we left. We dug latrines out in the jungle and burned all of our garbage. We brought our drinking water in glass bottles, the only containers available at that time. The lack of human presence made the beaches – the only area we frequented – absolutely pristine. In the mid to late 1970s, we were permitted to build a temporary camp with some bamboo tree houses and a shack to cook in. I often wondered what I was doing out there with no more protection than a few surfboards. Residents of that area included the Java tiger, herds of wild boars, the Indonesian wild water buffalo, the Komodo dragon, and more deadly snakes than one could shake a stick at. Actually, as the Indonesian sea eagle flies, it was only about 15 kilometers from the nearest village, but with the terrain and local inhabitants in between, it might as well have been a million miles. I spent a lot of time surfing a spot in Indonesia called G-Land.Remotely located on the edge of the Alas Purwo National Park, on the southeastern tip of Java, it was, relatively speaking, far from civilization.
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