Words and waves by Ryan Glover.

Jacks Surf Camp had more wild deer, pigs and monkeys than it did guests. There were leopards too. A leopard ripping a monkey apart just outside the camp kitchen the week before we arrived. One guest wouldn't leave his hut without a big stick. At first I thought it was a joke, but as the days wore on you definitely got the sense that the jungle was... how do I put it... closing in on you.

The walk up the point is a good example of this. A path weaves in and out of nasty thorn covered bamboo. Glimpses of the waves come and go. The key hole is where you paddle out and a break in the path to the beach is just past some seaweed picker's huts. I kept walking, kept getting glimpses of the waves, then a long time later I realised I hadn't found the path to the beach. I'd missed it, no worries. By the time I did find beach access I exited into the bright sunlight reather disorientated. The beach was deserted, the waves looked unfamiliar, I couldn't see any surfers. Obviously I was way up the point, but how far? I had no idea. The surf was small that day and it was high tide so I paddled out anyway. The keyhole doesn't look like much but it definitely sucks you out. This spot didn't. When I finally made it out the back I could see the wooden tower a long way down the point. It took me a number of waves before I reached the first pack of surfers.

One evening we had just finished our sundown Bintangs and were leaving the tower when a surfer in a spring suit and booties came out of the jungle. "Where am I?" He was visibly freaked.

"Jacks," someone replied. "All good mate?" Maybe someone had hit the reef.

"I came in over the reef and thought I was down the end so started walking up. Then it got dark. Couldn't find shit and the path was weird, so then I turned around and came back and thank fuck found you guys."

"Where are you staying mate?"

"Bobbies."

"Keep heading down it's the next camp."

"Cheers boys, fuck me, got the heart racing."

He set off at a jog down the path and as we were laughing, the jungle swallowed him.

Kongs is the furtherest break up the point but surprisingly isn't the biggest or heaviest. A deeper water, softer wave that rolls in on less of an angle making it very rippable. Low tide it seemed to come into its own and you'd often see it pumping with a lone one or two people out.

Money Trees is the next zone. Wider sets swing in and hit a straighter reef. I often found I'd catch a shoulder here only to make one section and find another, then another, and another. The wave just keeps going. You had to pick your waves carefully though as many would shut down or section off. Obviously this depends on the swell and direction though. The camp vibe was everyone would wait till around late morning when the offshore trades would properly kick in. I heard an Aussie describe Money Trees as a close out until the winds kick in. Also the wave was very pear shaped so until it got bigger I did't see many people making much. When it did get bigger a saw some serious choppings. But I saw one older guy pull in and weave perfectly through four or five sections getting barreled the whole way. It was a beautiful thing and you start to get the sense that this is what people return again and again for.

I spent the first few days familiarizing myself with the reef and the wave energy mostly surfing Kongs. We were waiting on a bump in the swell and every day the size was a little bigger. I'd spend my morning drinking coffee in the tower and watching the tide push in over the reef. Studying the waves. When the reef finally disappeared I'd gear up and make my way through the jungle, up the point and find the key hole. Every morning there was a steady pilgrimage of surfers making the same trek as most were on the same schedule. Breaking through the line of white wash to open water you would find the pack of Money Tree surfers to your right. I couldn't help myself, I'd always turn left and head up the point to sparser waters. As you moved up Kongs you'd come across a small packs of surfers working a section and you'd get glimpses of people surfing waves further up. Everytime I thought I made it to the top of Kongs I'd be surprised to see a one or two people further up the point. Late one glassy morning, a couple days in, the surf was super fun and I kept trying to paddle to the top of Kongs, but then a wave would come, so I'd turn and catch it. This kept happening. I could see the Money Trees pack way down the point. I could see people further up. I kept trying to get further up the point but a wave would come so I'd turn and catch it. This went on for a long time and I ended up in a sort of wave daze. Eventually I stopped to take a moment around and realise I'd been surfing by myself for most of the session. The point really is that long. Like a theme park you can pick your ride.

That day eventually the offshore kicked in and with that the sections smoothed out. I found myself on a bigger, wider one and was suddenly surfing through the Money Trees pack. Barely making the first section I was met instantly by another section. I was on a twin keel fish and was simply enjoying the fast feeling and high and low lines. I went high, dropped down, made another section. Flying. The wave just kept going, the sections kept coming. I went until a section finally got me and came up grinning. Wow, okay, so this is Money Trees. I made my way back up the point. Money Trees was much busier and you had to pick your wave carefully otherwise it would run off without you, but it was such a different shape and so much faster. I surfed until the reef started to look awfully shallow in the crystal water, then made my way in.

I was woken early the next morning by weird sounds on my roof. Hissing and monkey noises, scampering, growling and screeching. A real racket. Snake? Monkey? Snake attacking monkey? Was it on the roof, or in the roof...? Today was supposed to be the day the swell hit so I abandoned my hut to the jungle and went to check the swell. Outside was a thick sea mist. So thick that you couldn't see the reef from the tower, let alone the waves. I resigned myself to coffee and patience. The mist lasted many hours and wasn't until mid morning when it finally cleared.