Karma’s hard to believe. I sort of understand and accept that it’s out there, a vague concept, like Supreme Court Justice Stewart’s definition of pornography: “I know it when I see it.” A few days ago I saw Karma in action. I’m still not sure I believe.
I’m in Australia to windsurf Surfer’s Point in Margaret River. No sooner had I arrived that I was back on a plane to visit a friend in Melbourne and my brother in Vanuatu. Both places are in the neighborhood and this was a rare opportunity to see them on their respective birthdays. I was very pleased to stop over but it’s a really big neighborhood and the trip was not without pain.
Melbourne is straight forward, a direct 4 hour flight from Perth and on the way to Vanuatu. That’s where complications set in. Vanuatu is a small country of 80 islands 3,600 km (2,200 miles) northeast of Australia with a population of 300,000 primarily engaged in subsistence farming. Vanuatu has a couple of unique distinctions. It has the world’s highest linguistic density, home to 138 indigenous oceanic languages and three official languages, English, French and Bismala creole. It was also ranked the happiest place on Earth in 2006 and twice in the top 5 since then. You can read the full report for more details about this dubious award. Dubious because a 2011 study by its own government also ranked Vanuatu second only to Ethiopia for physical and sexual domestic abuse (60% of girls and women experienced abuse in their lifetime, 42% citing rape). It’s appalling that women’s rights are not considered more fully in a “happiness” index. It’s devastating that gender inequality follows poverty even though gender equality is a proven path out of poverty.
Vanuatu is also a beautiful place of tropical rainforests and turquoise blue lagoons that attracts investment and tourism, and a democratic system ranked only slightly below the USA (which might not be saying much these days) that’s making steady progress. In 2020, Vanuatu became only the sixth country to graduate from world’s least developed countries (LDCs) since the UN created the category in the 1970s. Traveling opens the eyes to the good and the bad.
My initial contact with the Vanuatu government was with their state-owned national airline, Air Vanuatu, and it was not good. Via multiple last-minute announcements, which could only be resolved at the airport check-in counter, my flight was delayed 17 hours. Even the modern Melbourne airport doesn’t have much to offer tired passengers at three in the morning. Finally, we were told that the airplane was on its way from the maintenance hangar, and sure enough, one more hour later, the airplane made its appearance. I later learned from Vanuatu locals that Air Vanuatu currently only operates a single airplane. So when the Air Vanuatu crew were announcing the arrival of the airplane, they literally meant “the” airplane. I don’t think an airline that only has one plane should call itself an airline. Nevertheless, I arrived, happy to get there.
After three days of family fun and local activities that included a volcano hike and a croquet competition (not many places in the world where it seems natural do both in the same day), I was back on Air Vanuatu for my flight to Sydney, delayed four hours (the single plane problem), missing my connection to Perth and landing 20 hours later, a reminder that I have been spoiled by years of business travel in the United States and Europe, and I recant all my road warrior stories of minor inconveniences.
The following day brought big waves and shifty winds to Margaret River. I was feeling low, but pushed myself out, caught one great wave (mountainous) and missed several others, finally getting flattened by the shore break because I never thought to ask anyone how you’re supposed to come in through the reef. And then I was flattened by a stomach bug, confined to bed and broth for three days. And so, two weeks after arriving in Australia, cumulating 80 hours in airplanes and airports, I had notched up just one good sailing day, the day I arrived. It was time for my luck to change.
The next day I was feeling better, the wind filled in and the waves were big, but not too big. It was going to be a good day. I was getting comfortable with the spot, how to drift out through the reef, where to catch the waves safely and how to ride them without being caught inside. I was five great waves into my session when suddenly my UJ broke.
This might sound like an awkward medical condition, but a UJ (universal joint) is actually a critical piece of hardware that connects the board to the sail. A UJ breaking is like dismasting a sail boat; game over. My UJ comes with a wire that at least keeps the sail from flying away in case of a breakage, so I was able to limp back to shore, carefully. The alternative would have been a very long paddle with the sail in tow acting like a sea anchor.
Back on shore, I asked the windsurfer who parked next to me where I could find a shop to buy a replacement UJ: Perth, a three hour drive, each way. He asks me what kind (there are different types) and it so happens that he has the exact same one, in its original package, in the back of his car. It’s not even the type he uses; he’s holding it for a friend up north that won it as a prize in a recent competition. I negotiate a trade and we talk some more. He’s taking his first windsurfing trip to Chile in a few months and looking for pointers. I’ve just returned from there and I’m more than happy to help with his planning. It’s like we were meant to meet. I’ve sailed 12 out of 11 days since then with no end in sight to wind or waves. Karma.
Or coincidence? In one of the world’s top windsurfing destinations, the chances of falling on someone that has the right piece of windsurfing equipment (made by an Australian company no less, so quite common here) who is also going to visit another top windsurfing destination would actually seem pretty good. Not a sure thing, but way better than winning the lottery or meeting a soul mate (no equivalence intended). I believe there’s a lot of confirmation bias involved in experiencing Karma. It’s a useful way to regulate our own internal thoughts but I’m not so sure it’s an external force. It may just be one of the many props used by brain-burdened overly-complex humans, which is all of us, to muddle through; and more on that tasty topic at a later date.
A parting world on Geraldton, the town “up north” where the winner of my lucky UJ lives. If I could imagine the most laid-back windsurfing scene it would be a fair match for Coronation Beach at Geraldton. I made the eight hour road trip based on enthusiastic recommendations and was not disappointed. Located on the edge of the Outback where road trains (trucks hauling multiple trailers) ply single-lane highways between stations (sheep and cattle ranches), herders ride motorcycles, ostrich walk the road, and kangaroo meatballs and crocodile tail rolls are on the menu, Coronation has everything a windsurfer could want.
It’s a vast bay sheltered by an offshore sandbank. On the inside is long empty beach bordering a lagoon with warm, flat water perfect for cruising and turning. Outside, the waves roll in over the sandbank, big but not powerful, vertical but without pitching over, rideable but not scary. The wind is strong without being ferocious, and blows a little bit onshore (towards the beach) for a little extra comfort. Pristine facilities for parking, rigging and even showering (the bring-your-own-water kind, we are in a desert!) round out the experience. I sailed four fun days there and on my way back south, stopped in Lancelin, another reputed spot, to ride the best waves of my trip so far, long, strong, clean. Lucky, lucky.
F4 Plus 