Below is an article that one of our True Blue clients got published in the Cape Times on one of our favorite destinations, the Maldives. The article covers her trip organised by True Blue. Take a look at the lodge they stayed at HERE , and if you feel all inspired and would like us to send you on a similar trip, drop us a mail : info@truebluetravel.co.za
Stoked in Himmafushi
By Jo-Ann Bekker
There comes a time when a middle-aged surfer has to escape to better waves, especially if your home break is the often lacklustre Buffalo Bay.
My artist-husband and his friends (an architect and a farmer) spent years dreaming about tropical surf breaks. They considered the pros and cons of Indonesia, Sri Lanka and the Maldives, weighed up accommodation on boat or on land, and debated whether to include their non-surfing wives (two doctors and me).
Eventually they settled on Jailbreaks, a long right-hand break – sometimes described as a tropical Jeffreys Bay – off the Maldivian island of Himmafushi. Other good breaks were just a ferry ride away. Wives were invited and a guest house was booked.
In September the six of us landed at the Maldives’s Ibrahim Nasir Airport and were met by hot enveloping air and our charming surf guide Kachu.
We passed a number of luxury resorts with deserted beaches and honeymoon huts on stilts during our 45-minute dhoni (ferry) ride. Then Himmafushi came into view with its pastel-painted warehouses, rusty shipbuilding sheds and fishing boats unloading the day’s catch.
It is a working island, with a jail for juvenile offenders (hence the name Jailbreaks), a state drug rehabilitation facility, a fish packing factory and a desalination and water bottling plant.
Bags were dropped in the entrance hall and the men changed into board shorts, grabbed their boards and headed straight to Jailbreaks with Kachu. They returned three hours later wreathed in smiles.
“Best surf of my life,” the architect proclaimed. And for the eight days of our stay, Jailbreaks delivered clean overhead surf.
In surfer-speak, the break had “a fairly easy take-off before walling up on the inside to create a fast, hollow inside section,” according to the architect.
The farmer described the waves as “beautiful walls lining up and racing down the coral reef with plenty of power and occasionally a hint of menace”.
The artist said he felt post coital after his best barrel ever.
There were challenges: strong currents created a choppy ride in the face of the wave at certain times of the day and towards the end of our stay the rip tides increased in strength.
The biggest irritation was the luxury boats which disgorged up to 25 tourists at a time into the line-up.
To avoid the crowds we surfed at dawn, lunchtime and sunset, when the boat-trippers were having their meals.
Our lives took on a new rhythm. We’d be woken up at about 5am by a pair of screaming crows (called kaalhu – a derogatory term for rowdy girls) in the sea hibiscus tree outside our window, followed by the mellifluous call to prayer from the island’s two mosques, and the farmer knocking on our door to announce the first surf session.
The doctors and I would meet around two hours later to swim off the island or snorkel around coral outcrops where we came to recognise the resident fish.
We’d all be back at the house for breakfast at 9am, a hearty fare of omelettes with coconut and onions, halaal viennas and toast, or Maldivian “short eats” (samoosas, chilli bites and roshi wraps filled with tuna, chillies, onion and coconut).
The rest of the day would be spent surfing, snorkelling, going on dhoni trips, exploring the island, reading and napping in hammocks.
At 7pm a motor bike would hoot outside the courtyard door and Hadhija would deliver our evening meal – large rice and pasta dishes with tuna, coleslaw, and side dishes of curried chicken or beef.
The Maldives is a Muslim republic and alcohol cannot be bought or drunk on inhabited islands (luggage is X-rayed at airports).
Although booze is part of our lives back home no one hankered for a beer or glass of wine as we sipped chilled desalinated water with our meals. We had the option of spending a day at a neighbouring resort where cocktails of every kind would be on offer, but no one wanted to go.
The dream of surfing perfect waves in crystal clear warm water against a backdrop of palm trees and a tropical sunset had come true. And, as the architect noted, each day’s waves were better than the best day at Buffalo Bay.
