THE MANY LIVES OF MÖK RAMADOL (a story for @stabmagazine)

I first met Mók Ramadol as a will encompassed.

I don´t quite recall where. I guess it was in Indo. Padang mabye? Ulus? Not too sure.

I just know it was big. Big barrels everywhere. But everyone was pussying out. I can´t understand why.

Well, it was big. And Ramadol was out… as usual. He was out there. Just out. There. Like way out there. Out, out, out. Deep, deep, deep.

Yeah. Ramadol was out that day.

He had that crazy look. You know the one I´m talking about, Mike.

You know what I´m talking about. Yeah. That Look. The Ramadolian look. He also had his game face on. And his hair was all tied up. And he looked like an angry, old, Indonesian local.

A vintage face, weathered and battered. Really. Just worn out by the sun and relentless travel. Relentless search. Relentless.

Do you even know Ramadol? Have you ever met him? Because he´s just laughing at us. He´s always laughing. Even when it´s overhead he´s laughing. Even when it´s big. Even when it´s scary.

Ramadol laughs at everyone and anything. I´ve seen this several times. He laughs at the locals. He laughs at the pros. He laughs at the kooks and he laughs at the chicks. He laughs at your board because he thinks your board is shit. He laughs at your Instagram. He laughs at your cutback. He laughs when you take surfing seriously and you acknowledge yourself as a soul-surfer. He also laughs when you laugh and pretend to be the happy go lucky surfer. He just laughs.

But I know you´ve seen him out there Mike. I know it. I also know other people have seen him. Perhaps they even felt him wandering the line up. They felt his presence. His aura. His energy. His PRESENCE.

Well, Padang was throwing that day. And Ramadol came out with his angry, death-metal face.

“Crowded?¨I dared ask him out of curiosity and ego, just wanting to be heard and recognized by this crazed, surf-spirit, this wandering entity named Mók Ramadol.

“It´s never crowded, mate. Not for me anyways. It´s always okay if you know when the right moment…“

He took a pause, looking at the line-up. We looked at a new set and some guy was just too deep.

“If you know“…

He paused again. The guy did not come out of the barrel.

“I fucking hate that! Hate it. Too deep. Wrong take-off. Just Wrong! And a wave not completed.“

He looked at me when he said this.

“Not completed, mate. Wasted.“

That´s what he said. I haven´t seen him since. He left Bali. I´m not sure where he is right now. Someone told me he was banging a hot chick in Buenos Aires. But I´m not sure about that.

Actually, I´m not sure about anything anymore, Mike.

Uluwatu, 2020

Lg