continued 6:00 p.m.
We were back on the boat by midafternoon, cruising north, looking for smoother conditions when we come across a boat adrift. It's an old wooden junker full of a bunch of surf tourists just off the plane -- their boards are still in travel cases. The law of the ocean says they need help, so we help them. We tow them to the nearest inhabited area.
Cruised an hour north to Playgrounds, a bay with four or five quality breaks within tinny distance. The bay is packed with boats, as it's the closest spot to Padang. Patrick is a total disaster. Rusty decided to paddle to shore to look for shells. Turned out he used the board Patrick wanted to ride. So, Patrick started walking around the boat, throwing stuff, and cussing. Then he got on another board, paddled to the island, ripped into Rusty, grabbed the board he wanted, and started paddling out right as a big set was coming in. He tried to jump over a wave, but the wave took him, pounded him into the reef, and broke the nose off his board.
Our last day. We're all surfed out, sunburned, and people are cracking under the monotony of doing the same thing every day. I'm burned out, quiet, and my back's killing me. Mike's leg is extremely sore, and he's eager to get home to his eight-months-pregnant wife. Other guys are getting into each other. Tim's kind of bitter all the time: "Ah, these waves aren't that good. I'd never pay to come back here."
After cruising past a lot of jam-packed breaks, we pulled into a bay with no obvious surf. But we find a peak with good lefts and rights. We named it Over Easy's and surfed it twice that day.
On the boat headed back to Padang. I'm ruined and glad we're heading for home.