Departure Line
We left St Francis Bay with boards, bags, and a loose plan. My son and I aimed for Lakey Peak, which sounds simple until you plot the route. First stop: Gqeberha. From there, we jumped to Johannesburg, then on to Dubai, followed by Bali, then Bima, and finally a two-hour taxi ride to Lakey Peak.
It reads like a riddle. It felt like a mission.
Distance Covered
We travelled roughly 13,500 kilometres by air and another 350 kilometres by road. In simple terms, that is a third of the way around the planet. We crossed time zones, climates, and food groups.
First, a coastal drive. Then a domestic hop. After that, a long-haul stretch. Then an island shuffle. Finally, the classic Indonesian taxi leg where the road bends just enough to keep you awake.
Long Haul
Airports were busy. Planes were fairly full. Every leg carried a steady flow of people moving with purpose.
At Dubai International Airport, the world passed through in every direction. Families, workers, surfers, business travellers. Everyone carried a version of somewhere else.
Through it all, travel held its rhythm. Indonesia, on arrival, felt exactly right. Warm air. Quick smiles. A smooth return to familiar ground.
War in the Background
There was a quiet undertone to it all. News cycles carried phrases like “ceasefire” and “uncertainty.”
At the same time, back home in South Africa, things seemed to gather pace. Fresh talk around Thyspunt, a noticeable drop in temperature as winter started to settle in, and the usual flow of daily life all stacked into a few short days.
From a distance, it feels fast, angsty. Compressed. Like a highlight reel running a touch quicker than normal.
Step away and look back, and everything seems to accelerate. Live inside it, and the same days feel measured and steady. It might be timing. It might be perspective. It might just be distance doing its thing.
Somewhere in that mix, my wife and daughter carry on back home, school runs, cooler mornings, and the steady rhythm of daily life, all ticking along, with my wife quietly underwriting the entire mission, which is how two surfers end up across the planet without too many questions asked.
Flying during a time like this sharpens perspective. You see how many people rely on things continuing to work. Airports become proof of continuity.
Bima Arrival
Sultan Muhammad Salahuddin Airport has a reputation. Tight, busy, energetic. It delivers. The system runs on local rhythm, and it holds together.
Step outside and Indonesia lands properly. The smell of clove cigarettes drifts through the air. Heat settles onto your shoulders. Thirty-four degrees is the standard in Sumbawa.
Final Stretch
The last leg stretches just enough to build anticipation. Then it opens up. The off grid drive rolls through villages and roadside warungs.
Lakey Peak sits there, doing its thing. Lines wrap down the reef. Warm water holds you in place. Time finds a slower pace.
After all that movement, the stillness is so good.
What It Means
Travel like this strips things down. You leave one small coastal town and arrive at another, on the far side of the world. Same ocean. Different mood.
Distance adds perspective.
It reminds you that movement continues, even when headlines feel heavy. People go. Planes fly. Waves break.
And somewhere in the middle of all that, a father and son cover 14,000 kilometres to go for the surf trip of a lifetime.
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