SanyaSurf.com: A Guide to Surf in Sanya and Hainan Island

Woke up to surf early this morning to the disappointment of seeing heavy winds blowing through the tops of the palm trees on the street below.  I could see the whole bay in Dadonghai was heavily textured, and whitecaps were appearing as far as I could see.  Still, the unmistakable presence of whitewater crashing up against the reef in front of the Mandarin Oriental gave me hope that our anticipated surf had arrived as promised by the past days' forecasts.

By the time Brendan and I saddled up the truck with our surfboards and were on our way up the East coast of Sanya it was about noon; light rain was falling and the winds were still persistent.  After we'd driven only a few miles out of town TJ called and reported the devastating news that our little secret spot was completely flat.

"Impossible." I muttered, knowing that TJ surely wasn't joking and had no other reason to mislead us.  Unfortunately, denial doesn't relinquish surfable waves, and it seemed that the window of swell promised to us by Typhoon Hagupit had passed swiftly in the night.  We pulled out the map and considered hauling all the way up to the North-east tip of Hainan where the coast might still be exposed to the passing weather, but with heavy wind and the prospect of getting completely skunked, we decided to turn back and see what D-hai could offer in terms of surf.

When we pulled into the parking lot at Dadonghai, we were surprised to see that the waves seemed to be marching in from the west, rather than from the east as we'd expected.  It certainly explained why our East coast spots were flat, and we had the idea to go check the next bay over in Shao-Donghai to see if there were any options for surfing out there.

We drove over the hill, and were equally disappointed again to see the entire bay blown flat, with a super-low tide exposing all the reefs.  In disbelief, we resolved ourselves to the fact that despite an indication of heavy swell, there were no lineups that possessed the combination of sheltering us from the wind and facing the right direction to catch the swell.  As we drove back up the hill to return home, I was still shaking my head at our bad fortune.  On a whim, we pulled into the parking lot overlooking the Luhuitou peninsula to survey the layout.

Curiously, the waves in Sanya Bay seemed to be breaking in places we'd never considered surfing before, and a particular lump of rocks that was sticking out of the water seemed to be catching a bit of constant swell.  With nothing else to lose, we figured we'd check it out, and upon closer inspection, decided it would be better than just going home empty handed.  We drove down the spot, changed into our gear, and walked out a little landbridge to our newly discovered surf spot.

As we approached the connecting land, we saw what appeared to be steady surf on the other side of this small islet, with waves breaking in the 5-6 foot range with a decent windguard provided by the islet.  An outcropping of rocks about 100 meters off the shore marked the end of the takeoff zone, with left breaking off the islet into Sanya Bay, and rights breaking off the outcropping and wrapping around the backside of the islet.

As we walked out, the nearly unbearably sharp rocks bit into our booties and served as a subtle reminder of the fact that we were embarking on a surf session in unfamiliar waters where likely no one had ever surfed before (did I mention the water was murky brown with zero visibility?).  Anyway, we launched ourselves into this secluded stretch of water, and once we were in the takeoff zone, began scratching into our first solid waves in weeks.

With choppy storm surf and a heavy current pushing against us each time we paddled back out after taking a wave, we were constantly fighting to stay in position between the islet and the jagged rocks that spat ocean spray from each wave that crashed onto them.  As the day drew on, the wind died down and the waves grew almost double in size, and a few even managed to closeout the entire span where we were surfing.  We each bagged about 10-15 waves, with our biggest conquests reaching a few feet overhead with rides reaching about 100 yards.  After nearly four hours of intense storm surf, we hauled our tired bodies out of the water and back up to road where the truck was parked.

With tired eyes and sore bodies, we drove back home with the satisfaction that only comes from the luck of succeeding in a triumphant surf mission.  It may not have been the day we planned, but we sure managed to pull a gem out of a day that otherwise would have left us dry.  I'm sure this account could possibly lead to others discovering what we've dubbed 'Red Rocks', but given the odd conditions that make this place surfable, I'm not too worried about the word getting out.  Still, it's always fun to find new surf spots in China, especially when they're right in your backyard.

Woke up knowing there was a heavy swell in the water (TJ and Brendan both called to tell me the East coast was going off.  By the time I motivated and loaded up the truck it was already about 4 pm in the afternoon, and the drive out had be worried as it was raining so hard I could hardly see the back of the truck in front of me.

The first glimpse of the ocean brought the feeling of excitement that only comes with the knowledge that there is not only surf; but surf of such size and power that it wakes you up and gets your heart pumping.  I was so amped that I could hardly control my fingers as I pulled on my springsuit and strapped up my booties, and was wide-eyed on the entire walk out to one of the best point breaks Hainan has to offer.

I managed to jump in behind the waves; timing my launch carefully knowing that if a sneaker wave caught me off guard I'd have no where to retreat and would likely get thrown into the rocks.  Fortunately I only had to duckdive through one small wave before I made it to the safety of the outside shoulder.

After catching my breath for a few minutes, I started flirting carefully with the right should of some of the larger waves: not wanting to get caught inside especially with low tide putting only a foot or two of water over the sharp rocky reef below.

My first wave granted only a steep face ride with the shoulder closing out in front of me and forcing me to dive through the wave in order to avoid getting dragged to the inside.  I scratched my way back outside and for the first time noticed TJ sheltered under an umbrella behind one of the rocks on shore.  Within a few minutes he'd suited up and paddled out from the shore: passing on the sketchy jump-in and opting for an equally punishing paddle out through the break.

I managed to catch another steep face and made it partway down the line before he face outpaced me; forcing me again to jump ship and get back out before the next set stacked up on me.

TJ was a bit more aggressive and caught a handful of cleaner small waves for short rides, though his ambition also forced him to duckdive a few monster sets that would have likely carried me back to the rocky shoreline against my will.  We both scratched into numerous waves that failed to pick us up, but as the winds shifted offshore, the waves became more organized with faces that held all the way through to the inside reef.

Still, the day was getting late, so we each agreed we'd catch one more before heading in:  I caught a nice sized overhead wall that carried and held its face all the way to the inside, I turned around and saw TJ carving up a similar wave right behind me.

While we were a bit forlorn to leave the spot just as ideal conditions materialized, we were both fully stoked on what we'd scored, but even more so to recognize that the winter surf season had begun.

Well, there was no tsunami, no earthquake, and there have been no waves for weeks.
We had a minor two foot swell last week, but it was barely enough to get a drop in on a longboard.

Seems as though the typhoons off the East coast of the Phillipeans just haven't made the jump into the South China Sea, and while Taiwan and Japan must be having record summers, we're getting skunked down here so far.

Anyway, I'm about to hang up my quiver for the summer and start preparing for winter (but still praying for a late summer miracle).

It's 3:00 am and I can't sleep.The Hainan surf buoys are predicted at 13 feet tomorrow on the East coast up the coast from Sanya, and the wind that was tossing palm fronds to the pavement earlier this afternoon has subsided.  With impending surf approaching, I feel like a kid waiting for Christmas day, eagerly anticipating tomorrow's offerings; though I must admit there's a bit of Halloween fear added to the portent of the approaching swell from Typhoon Hagupit.Tomorrow will certainly warrant a trip up Hainan’s East coast, and there should be no question of finding swell, but rather; tomorrow's surf challenge will be finding the most rideable conditions amongst chaotic wind patterns, temperamental tides, and of course, the sheer limits of my fortitude.  Sometimes the question is not whether there will be waves or not, but whether I have the courage to face the size and power that is ultimately delivered.  Given the dearth of surf we've seen in Hainan recently, I'm perhaps a bit on the reckless side of reason, and hope that by the time the swell has passed I've come as close as possible to exhausting myself past my physical and mental limits without extinguishing myself.

I've always loved the anticipation of these days; I've always loved looking back at the triumph accomplished on days like these, but the fear... the fear is something that I've had to learn to love, or at least I struggle learn to live with.  Over time, I've come to recognize that the degree of intensity I experience these triumphant emotions with depends implicitly on the degree of fear that I endure in achieving them, and so therefore I anticipate this fear with a knowing pseudo-confidence that tomorrow I may face my limits, but to do so is such a rare opportunity in life that I can only sit awake and stir over the restlessness of my ambition to fast forward to facing the source of these fears; tomorrow's surf.

Considering how this season's gone, tomorrow may just be a blow-out junky unrideable day, but anticipation, perseverance, and the willingness to face the unknown are part of what give life one of its most powerful driving forces: and it happens to be one of the most acutely descriptive words to encompass any surfer's dedication to this sport: passion.

Let's take a moment just to address this silliness associated with Jucelino Nobrega da Luz's prediction that "a 9.1 scale earthquake will occur between Nanning and Hainan Island on September 13, triggering a tsunami which will lead to the deaths of millions." (see link here)

While even the world's top scientists seem unable to accurately predict the timing of earthquakes, this nut out in Brazil seems to think he can simply dream about them and they will come true.  The problem is, that his 'predictions' are often believed by many ignorant fools who cannot distinguish between educated hypothesis and baseless guesses.  In this case, the result has been real financial loss for the tourist industry in Hainan, as wary travellers have been scared off by this unfounded prediction.

In any case, the surf has been so flat here recently that I would welcome a swell of any size, though a 30 meter wave seems just about impossible.  Nonetheless, I'll keep a camera close by on Saturday...'just in case'.

Typhoon Nuri was dumping waves on Hong Kong, and delivering surfable waves to the South facing beaches of Dadonghai and Sanya Bay.  Surf heights seemed to be shoulder-high, with larger sets and glassier conditions reported in the morning, and a bit choppier with less organization by mid-afternoon.

Nonetheless, the regular crowd was in the lineup with a handful of beginners testing out their new longboards amidst a crowd of Chinese tourists swimming and cavorting in the water.

Doesn't really make up for what has been a relatively poor summer, but enough fun to warrant getting wet.  Hoping for another typhoon.

Shoulda started this kinda thing long ago, but alas, the technology foiled me. But now--- I have the power!!!
Well, we've made up our minds to get the hell out of Panyu Suquiouch and move to D'hai (Dadonghai for you uninitiated) in Sanya. Too hot and too much Ma Fan here: no surf and no burgers make Hammond something something...
GO CRAZY?!!!?!?! Or just move to Sanya.

Well, all good things must come to an end, fortunately, so too must most bad things. For me, tomorrow marks the day of freedom- from the oppressive fumes and obnoxious behavior of Panyu and it's unsophisticated inhabitants (believe me I am not a snob, but this place is just abrasive in just about every way possible).

Despite the joy of leaving for greener pastures (or bluer seas in this case) I will miss the friends I have made here: in business, on the soccer field, and in the various restaurants and bars in the area: and I will forever owe a debt of gratitude to Panyu for being the place I met Darci, but am for the most part was consoling myself through the final tortures of my last overprices cab ride and sour chicken Caesar salad (what is sour cream doing on my salad!!!).

Played soccer with my team, "FC Green", for the last time tonight, and led the team to a victory against cross-town rivals- the blue team (I don't know their real name). I came through with a hat-trick; taking a through ball one touch and shoot on the first goal, a highlight-worthy chest trap through two defenders to a half-volley left-footed shot for the second goal, and a lucky header off a corner kick from the right side that bounced off a defenders foot and into the goal- also had a perfect assist that put my teammate alone in front of the goal for an easy put away. Glad to have left things good with my team, I said farewell and told them I'd look forward to playing with them again someday.

Chinese tourists are so funny, especially those that have obviously little experience with such modern technologies such as airplanes. By loading passengers onto the plane from both the front and rear of the plane, the airline managed to create confusion both on the ground as passengers tried to figure out which side of the plane they were supposed to get on, and again in the aisles as passengers inevitably had to cross each other, with baggage, to get to their seats. A particular group of tourists wearing matching red t-shirts and hats, and seemingly made up of housewives and their children, continued to delay the onflight takeoff procedures while taking pictures and moving from seat to seat to pose with their friends. The stewardesses were running after kids like it was a pre-school or something, and after they finally got everyone seated, they realized they had left someone off the plane. We waited 15 minutes while they searched the airport for some guy who said he got lost in the airport.

Anyway, we've arrived in Sanya, finally. Just luggage and our dog, Gouro, who was a bit rattled by the trip through the belly of an airplane and eventually spinning around on the luggage claim conveyors while hundreds of Chinese tourists gawked and pointed at him.

With any luck we'll get our furniture on the 16th as promised, and will work on the internet and phone lines this week.

Otherwise a nice swell in the water and looking forward to some good surf over the next few days.

Surf has been pretty good. Great weather and very glad to be here.

I had no idea it could be so flat here. Gouro started swimming and is getting more courageous everyday. He looks like a sea otter in the water, and might be a little panicky at times, but I think he enjoys it.

Bought some power tools today, will try to make some cabinets.
Glad to be adding to the incessant construction buzz in the neighborhood.

Paddled out to the abandoned wharf today at the East end of Dadonghai Beach. Pretty cool reef out there, some live coral heads and lots of fish. Some parrotfish and other big fish, but lots of cool little fish. Very large Green Anemone with two clown fish living inside it- lots of small blue/white/black cleaner wrasse, and schools of tens of thousands of small silvery and blue fish.

Sadly, the reef is being eaten by spiny starfish, which are everywhere. These are about a foot in diameter, with 8-12 arms and tough spiny skin. Apparently they are somewhat poisonous, and tearing them in two only multiplies their population by the same. I wonder if I could pay the Chinese kids to go collect them and bury them in the sand or something. We'll see.

Man, the water is so flat today it's amazing. I can't believe the surf was as big as it was two weeks ago and now there's little evidence of anything.

The water has been clear though, so I paddled out to the wharf again today with two German guys I met on the beach. They were trailing behind, and we were out in the open water between the beach and the wharf, when I felt a sharp pain on my wrist. I turned around and saw nothing in the water. I looked at my wrist and saw no apparent injury, but the pain felt like I'd been thrashed by barb wire. I knew right away that it was jellyfish, but did not see anything in the water. I turned around and began paddling out towards the wharf, and about 2 minutes later felt a sharp sting on my other wrist. Sensing the urgency, I decided it would be wise to don my snorkel and take a look at what was surrounding me below the surface.

I held my body at the tip of my surfboard, and peered my head into open blue expanse beneath. I saw off in every direction, the ghostly translucent bodies of hundreds of long, thin jellyfish streaming upwards towards the surface like spirits ascending to the next world. Fortunately, they were distributed with enough space as to make avoiding them a simple task, and I was mesmerized by their soft undulating pulses of motion and delicate, yet dangerous, ribbons of tentacles drifting freely in the current. As I swam out towards the wharf, I looked at my wrist and saw small hives forming in the areas where I had been stung. The second sting seemed to have broken the skin in a few small lesions that were not quite cuts, but more like scratches that stung quite a bit. I was able to ignore the sting while I kept my hands moving in the cool ocean water, but the pain was very uncomfortable and very similar to being stung by stinging nettle.

I saw a really cool brown eel and a few other corals and much of what I had seen before- was a bit preoccupied with my stings but stayed out for about an hour.

Resorting to a commonly known remedy for jellyfish stings, I promptly pissed all over my hands as soon as I got back to the shower, and remarkably the pain subsided almost instantly. Might just swim out from the reef next time.

Still small (about 4-8 inch), but bigger than yesterday. Gouro swam out and climbed onto the surfboard in the water. I pushed him into a wave and he caught it all the way into the beach. He seems pretty comfortable in the water at this point, maybe he'll be a surfing dog.

At the very end of the day a small set came in with substantially more power than the rest of the day- perhaps signs of waves to come this weekend.

Good stormy surf this weekend, surfed three sessions over two days, and got about 15-20 waves each session. My arms are like jello and I think I might be catching a cold from being in the water so long today (and surfing till after dark). Mostly lefts though, so am working on my weak side, pulled a pig-dogged mini-barrel in the late afternoon and had a few rights in the mix.

Off to HK tomorrow- great waves for the last 5 days but looks like it's cooled off for a few days. Today was small but clean and fun- rode the funboard and caught a ton of tiny waves with fun shoulders.

Surf was very good this weekend, a bit stormy but we went to the West side of D-hai yesterday and perched at the tip of one of the permanent buoys (they pulled the swim lines for the storm). Big rights 2ft overhead drops with 2-3 turns on the shoulders. About 6 guys out in the water and everyone was gettin some.

Today was a little smaller, but good in the late afternoon. Sectioned close-out rights and some lefts. Got pitched over my board for the first time since I've been here, and tumbled around in the surf (about 5ft+ but with some power).

Small small small surf, but rideable (barely). Surfed anyway and had fun. Looks like it might be much bigger tomorrow.

Yeah, it's been tiny for almost 6 weeks now, and finally a small swell showed up. Partywaves all around, with multiple riders sharing 2 foot ripplers with Russian house music playing in the background. Actually lots of fun.

(Steve's Birthday)  After crowding into a small van, the five of us plus driver set out in search of better waves than we’d been afforded at our local beach in Dadonghai.  It had been flat for about 5 weeks, except for a few random days where the desperate surfer could scratch out a few ripples on a longboard, but our shortboards were gathering dust and our thirst for some real waves was intense.

I had never seen the target location before, and brought 2 boards to accommodate a variety of conditions, as did Brendan; Darci had a 9’ mal, and Steve conservatively brought a thick fishy shorty.  Harry rode the spare and had his first day in the water on a surfboard.

After what seemed like a very long hour’s drive, we arrived at the first spot; the most southern of the spots lining Shimei Bay on the East Coast of Hainan.  The roads off the main highway look like they were formed by pouring concrete out of a moving cement truck and the rolling it right into the ground: forget potholes- the driver was dodging manholes in the street while trying to stay out of the way of oncoming motorbikes (the manhole covers get stolen and melted down for their raw metal).

When we pulled into the parking lot we saw what looked like small but promising surf.  The sets looked well shaped and perhaps 3-4 foot outside with an slight offshore wind that was holding the faces of the waves up into steep takeoffs to smooth peeling shoulders.  As we clambered out of the van, a freshly caught manta ray of some kind was laying to the side of the path leading down to the beach.  Its lengthy tail had been cut off and gruesomely strung between its gills as to allow it to be hauled up out of the sand.  Still wet, with fresh blood smattered on its face and body, it was somewhat of a mystery to us as to why this placid beautiful creature had ended up in this predicament (we later learned that the local fishermen who’d caught him had to go get help to hoist the catch to the market).

Brendan quickly suited up and ran down into the surf.  I’d heard a loud ‘pop’-‘pop’-‘pop’ sound coming from the beach as we were changing, and had dismissed it as just fireworks, which are very common in China and especially prevalent in beach areas.  With Moon Cake Festival in a few days, I expected this sound to be some kids lighting off rather small fireworks in the sand, and was surprised to see a police officer on the beach yelling at Brendan from the shore while he coyly assumed to not understand the policeman’s warnings.  He was pointing down the beach towards where the sound was coming from, and it only took a second to put the scene together: about 100 yards down the beach a line of 5 uniformed men were pointing their guns out in the direction of the waves and taking shooting practice at targets perched at the edge of the shoreline- right in the direction of where we planned to surf!

We waved Brendan in and resolved to check a few spots a little ways up the coast and to come back later, when the police were done, if we couldn’t score anything.  After scoping out a few more spots, we decided to return to the first spot, which was taking references such as “rifles”, “firing squads”, and “targets”.

We returned about an hour later and after trying the firing range spot for about 30 minutes, decided that we’d try a little ways down the beach, and after scouting the coastline for about a half-mile, settled on a spot that caught the swell and focused in on a shallow sandbar into a shapely little ‘A’-frame with steady little shoulders, some all the way to the beach.

The five of us surfed on and off for the rest of the afternoon, enjoyed a few beers on the sand and met the local landowner who owned the coconut farm that stretched from where we stood all the way to the dark green mountains that rose up at the far end of the valley like giant green curtains.  We all caught waves, and the video we caught from the beach shows how hard we were working to eek out rides out from the modest swell offering.  We lost track of time and had to cancel the beach soccer game we’d organized, but everyone seemed satisfied with the pleasure of being thoroughly fatigued from the daylong extended sessions, and I doubt we’d have had the strength to muster up much of a match by the time we arrived back at the Dadonghai crossroads (upon returning home I promptly resumed a nap I had initiated in the van).

What is good surf? Well, as far as the conditions go, I’ve certainly had countless days where the size, shape, consistency, length, and thrill of the ride registered on a completely different scale than this day: many that I cannot even distinguish from one to another: feeling of an accomplished mission, the piling out of a packed van with sandy wet surfboards, and the tired perma-grin on the stoked sun burnt faces of friends certainly qualifies in my book.  Here’s to a great surf day courtesy of Hainan.

It took a little bit of ridiculous haggling with the drivers who showed up with a taxi cab despite our insistence that we have a car with a flat roof (for the surfboards). We ended up just shoving Steve's board in the trunk and jamming mine into the carriage of the car. With 2 shortboards and a boogieboard for Mario, we managed the quick 1 hour drive up the coast to Shimei Bay despite somewhat crammed conditions.

With 16 ft buoys reporting online, we were expecting strong surf, with the high possibility of heavy poundings and tough paddles out. Our excitement was high, and as we passed the first visible glimpses of the ocean around exit 16, we knew we were in for a big day. We checked the firing squad at Riyue Wan first, and then quickly went up to golf courses at Shimei. The swell lines were clean and well-organized, but too small at Shimei, so we went back down to Riyue and joined Brendan and his crew of 4 beginners who were learning in the whitewash towards the shore.

Outside, and just to the left of the reef at the north side of the beach, the shoulders were peeling with strong consistency- in the middle of the beach, fun 6 foot A-frame peaks were standing up with shoulders racing to the left and right; a bit closed out in sections, but make-able in the right position. A strong rip current was pulling us south away from the takeoff spot for the reef point, and forcing some of us to paddle in and walk back up the beach periodically to keep from being washed down to the next bay.

After floating around in the middle of the beach for about an hour, and paddling hard to maintain my position on the beach, I decided to paddle up to the reef, where beautiful lefts were peeling perfectly over the semi-exposed rocky reef. I took two smaller waves right over the reef: realizing the treacherousness of the situation upon jumping off my board to find only 2 feet of water beneath me and the reef. I moved outside, and after having to negotiate one punishing sets with a series of duckdives as a consequence of positioning myself too far inside, I put myself in what I presumed to be the right takeoff spot and waited.

After just a few minutes my efforts were rewarded. I saw the first wave of a very large set coming and made sure I was correctly positioned. I let the first two waves pass, and then saw it: a 7 foot face rolling silently towards me with a long shadowed arm stretching all the way across the bay. I pointed the nose of my board at a slight angle to get into the pocket of the left and paddled hard as I felt the wave lift me up from behind. I was instantly staring down the smooth face of a large liquid beast as it fetched up and threatened to toss me onto the shallow rocks staring up at me through boils in the foamy water below.

I raced down the face and planted my backfoot into my traction pad to initiate my bottom turn. For a moment I thought I had missed the shoulder, as a large section of the wave crashed down behind me, and I could see the should racing away from me, just a few feet in front of me. I stomped my back foot down and my board responded- spitting itself forward and onto the base of the shoulder. I pumped a few times and found myself racing down the clean face of a solid 5-6 foot face- and was racing down a wall that seemed to continue to grow in front of me in walls and peaks as I turned up and down the face to keep the speed I would need to make the sections.

As I floated down the line I hollered at the top of my lungs with my arms spread out towards the sky. My friends on the shore noticed at this point and were hollering back as I continued to ride out this perfect wave. After what felt like minutes (but was realistically about 25 seconds), the wave had spent its energy and died out in a reform as is washed over the inside channel. I picked off a small peak onto the shore and walked into the dongshi pile (= "stuff") with an ear-to-ear grin on my face.

Later that day I caught two more similar rides; and left for home with a feeling of being physically spent and emotionally fulfilled. It's amazing how nicely surfing lines up the work/reward aspects of the work and toil that goes into surfing considering how little time is actually spent standing up on a wave and riding the board. If I'd missed that wave, I wonder how stoked I would have been on the day as a whole? So much of life comes down to patterns, schedules, and routines, so much planning it would seem, yet what is the payoff? Surfing may at times seem like a draining unfulfilling bitch of a passion, but when it all comes together, it is truly one of the most amazing experiences in life.

The big day finally arrived, and after watching D-hai churn out of control in yesterday's typhoon, we were all eager to catch the post-storm window- hoping to score some big clean waves from the residual swell in the water.

Waking up, I was surprised to see the ocean almost as big as yesterday, though a bit less violent and more organized.  Still, solid 12-15 foot faces were breaking everywhere in the middle of the beach, and I watched twice as Brendan tried to paddle out before turning around and riding the whitewash back into the shore (heck, I wasn't even about to try).

Thinking the day was spent, I walked with Darci down to the far left side of the beach, and discovered that the swell was still large, but there was a channel that made the paddle-out a virtual cakewalk.  Newly enthused, I ran back to the Wave Bar and grabbed my board- on the way I recruited a few of the Russian surfers to join me, as they were trying to surf the whitewash in the middle of the beach with great effort and little reward.

What awaited us can only be described as perfect waves.  Considering where we are, to get solid 8-10 ft faces with clean shoulders is almost unthinkable.  I scored a large right almost as soon as I got into the water, and the feeling of dropping down a steep face was a welcome reminder of the waves I'd left behind in California.  I probably scored the wave of the day on a very big left that pitched up and sent me flying down the line as I set my back rail and accelerated past a giant slab of whitewater that nearly capped my head.  Great day for all- Brendan scored the biggest wave of his life, and I'm pretty sure what the Russians were pulling into was at the top of their personal wave bests.

After surfing the outside for about 3 hours and picking off a handful of big waves, I took a rest and then went after the reform inside, which was throwing 3-4 ft barrels with great shape and speed.  I surfed until I couldn't move my arms anymore and my body seemed to be out of sweat.  My feet were cramping up into claws as were my calves.

Walking back up to the Wave Bar, I saw Brendan and the Russians downing a few beers- each of us with the same stupid-grin of a surfer satiated with exhaustion from a day of fulfilling rides.  There's no arguing, that when the swell is big, life is good.  Glad to see D-hai handle the surf this big too.

After what has been a couple months of very little surf, save for a random weekend of small waves that barely qualified for surf- the kind that only leaves you thirsty for some real waves- I could no longer simply wait for summer's southern swells to grace our southfacing beach, and set out to find new and unknown spots. With the holiday festivities of Christmas and New Year's finally behind me, it was time to seek out some new destinations outside of the shelter of Dadonghai.

After spending nearly a month and half working my tail off to make enough money to by a small Chinese pickup truck, I had scoped a few little nooks and crannies nearby, and had seen some potential lineups hidden amongst the rocky and often inaccessible coastal terrain.

I had made a few training runs at night in the last month, and had seen glimpses of a potential lineup breaking on a distant reef in the next bay over from D'hai. It did not look easy to access without a long paddle, but I was fixated on the setup and the potential it could harbor for a clean southern swell. Following my curiosity, I found that the road that led me closer to a lookout point, also wrapped all the way around a golf-course and out to a secret little point with a steep dirt driveway. I had scoped the road before with Darci, and saw that while my truck would easily make it down, getting back up might prove a bit wearing on the little beater- what we did find was evidence of a shallow reef that seemed to catch swell from the north: the source of most winter swell.

So on these two days, when there was hardly a ripple in Dadonghai, I surfed two sessions with only one other friend in the water, and while the waves were small little wait-high rodeo rides, it was great to get back in the surf- and to find a new spot so close to home was a gift. It really looks like it will be a classic setup for the summer swells, and I can't wait to see what it shows from a real southern pulse.

One of my buddies that runs a surf rental and tour service on the island had shown me a spot not too far to the east of us where there are a few spots that catch swell. One spot in particular is a right point break that peels heavily off a rocky reef and breaks for more than 200 yards along a shallow live reef. Termed by its discoverer as "Matoes" it is definitely in another class of wave from the spots up at Shimei Bay and Dadonghai, as it jacks up heavily from open water to a sizable triple-overhead at its peak, and throws heavy sections as it churns down the reef.

With Darci's parents visiting for Chinese New Years, I decided to show them what surfing looked like, and drove out through the countryside and through the small village that leads to the hidden break. After a short walk through a deteriorating demilitarized army base, I reached the break and suited up in my 4/3 wetsuit. Donning my booties, I climbed up to a jump-off point and timed a dive into a small set- careful to avoid the larger sets that would have tossed me about 5 feet down off the rock into a shallow tide pool.

The sets were coming in at about 7-8 feet, with clean faces and long shoulders. Still, with a 6'1" stick under me, I was under-gunned for the speed at which the waves were approaching (and I'm sure it didn't help that I'm not exactly in the best shape as I haven't surfed in about a month).

After attempting a few late-drops, and taking a few eye-opening wipeouts, I woke me up to the fact that this place was no cakewalk. I managed to race a few faces to the shoulder, but was still getting off on the wave a bit too late, and not very confident in approaching the peak.

I managed to sack up and paddle out to the main peak to wait for a decent sized wave, and when my chance came, pulled into a nice wedge- made the shoulder, and headed down the line for a solid 100 yards before failing to make a section and getting overtaken by the whitewash.

I was too tired to paddle all the way back out, and had the sense that Darci's parents wanted to head home, but very stoked on surfing a new spot, and I can't wait to see what this place has in store.

I spent yesterday in the gym and feel noticeably stronger for it. Dragged Darci and her parents back out to Matoes, and saw it was slightly bigger than the day before. Not to worry, I brought along a second board- a 6'5" that had been given to me by a random American tourist during the summer, and was primed for taking on the sizable sets that were marching in from the open sea.

Somehow I managed to strip my fin key while switching the fins from my shortie to the longer board, and thought my session was done. Darci's dad came up with the brilliant idea to file down the end of the key to the un-stripped neck of the key, and within 5 minutes of scraping the tool, as well as my knuckles, against one of the granite boulders that define the coastline, was able to complete the fin-swap.

For my efforts I was rewarded with an easy entry off the rocks, and 3 perfect 8 foot waves back-to-back-to-back: about 150-200 yard rides, with plenty of room for cutbacks, and racy sections that reminded me of surfing Steamer's back in Cali- only with no one else out. I could have easily surfed more, but was exhausted from the long paddle back out, and needed to spend some time with Darci's folks before they went home.

I look forward to the challenges this place will bring.

Feeling eager to repeat my previous day's performance at Matoes, I rounded up Brendan (who found the spot in the first place), and we drove out to the daunting spot. As we pulled around the corner of the last building in town, we could see that the ocean was heavy, with swell reaching all the back to the beach at the base of the headland.

As we carried our gear down the path to the break, we could see the ocean frothing with the inertia of multiple swells coming in from the northeast and south, with a light on-shore breeze to top it off. Walking out to the first lookout point, our faces lit up with the site of perfect 10-12 foot waves breaking mechanically off the outside point, and peeling for hundreds of yards into the open bay.

Brendan had not tried the jump-off point, and we clambered out over the rocks and made preparations for launching ourselves in right at the peak. After several minutes of tentatively watching and waiting for the right moment, we determined that even the smallest waves were crashing too violently to warrant the risk of making out and safely around the first set of rocks that mark the takeoff zone.

So we opted for the long paddle over the reef and around the break to the outside swell. After a 20 minute paddle that all but exhausted me, we took a few minutes to catch our breath before completing the final 50 yards to the takeoff zone, and once there, sat carefully off to the left of the shoulder to feel out the sets and determine a good takeoff point.

After about 10 minutes of slowly moving closer and closer to the peak, we were finally scratching onto the shoulder of a few waves but not deep enough to commit to the final takeoff. Anxious to get a wave, I gradually moved in a bit closer with each set, hoping to get just close enough to ease my way onto the soft section of a shoulder.

I wish I could say that my efforts paid off, but what happened next is the kind of stuff you pray for not to happen: I paddled and failed to make a smaller wave right in front of a triple-wave rogue set of 15 foot waves that broke on an outer shelf and caught me trapped on the inside. Brendan was a good 20 yards down the shoulder from me, and he barely made it through the set. I, on the otherhand, had my options as whether to cling to my board or ditch and dive.

I dove, but rather late, and miraculously punched through the other side with little difficulty. I wasn't so lucky on the next wave, and though I thought I dove deeper, was pulled back over the falls and cycled like a G.I. Joe doll that's been thrown in the washing machine. I managed to retrieve my board before the third wave came along, and was certain I was doomed if I didn't hold onto it for dear life. I managed to cling to it for about half the 'ride', but was pulled way underwater and had to let go it seemed to keep from being bent in half the wrong way. I didn't know which way was up, other than to grab my leash and climb up to my board.

I finally pointed my board to shore and held on as tight as I could as another wall of whitewash slammed into my back- sending me hurdling towards the rocky shore. I hung on for dear life and steered myself into calm waters, where I rested head-down on my board for a good 5 minutes before humbly paddling myself ashore.

Brendan was not far behind me, and we considered ourselves lucky to have gotten out safely, though a bit bummed on getting skunked.
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When we got back to Dadonghai, Brendan got a call from Dahai saying there were small waves at the beach. We grabbed our boards and ran down the street to play in the waning hours of daylight on 3 foot shorebreak. Still, it was satisfying to catch something that day, and as Brendan put it, "Hey Matt, you tell everyone it was triple-overhead today and you caught 10 waves."

It's nice to know there's a formidable challenge out there, but didn't need to get rocked so hard to have it demonstrated.

With Brendon and Devon in the water, and Devon's wife taking pictures from the beach, we caught what seemed to be endless perfect rights that broke at least 150 yards down the line creating well shaped tubes and powerful rides.

It was one of those days when everyone goes home with a smile on their faces, and we all can't believe how lucky with are to live in such a pristine surf environment and to have it all to ourselves.

The Olympic ceremonies kicked off in Beijing today, but most of the surfing contingency in Sanya and Dadonghai were more concerned with the promise of some long awaited head-high surf.

With a bit of a churning inside section, most of the Chinese swimmers were kept inside, and most of the local surfing beginners took a day to watch the seasoned locals make the best of some of the most rideable surf to hit Dadonghai this summer.