Broken volcanic rock blocked any chance of landing. We ate lunch while paddling, and arrived at 6:00 p.m. at Handoelum Island, soaked to the bone. Over a hearty Spam-and-noodle dinner, Dave and I shared our concerns about the relatively slow speed of the kayak and its open design-with no bulkheads, and a canoe-style spray deck-on big Indian Ocean water. Our main concern was how the kayak would handle during the really big surf landings that we would have to tackle on the exposed south coast of Java. The following morning, March 22, we tied all of our gear into the kayak and headed southwest. We planned to paddle 25 kilometers around the notorious Gedeh and Gehakalok points. Between these two points are 12 kilometres of 50- to 200-meter cliffs that drop off from the emerald-forest-covered volcanic peaks on the western tip of Ujung Kulon. Exposed to the full might of the open Indian Ocean, this section has laid claim to many a fishing boat. Quiet, focused, and a bit nervous, we ventured into the chaos around Gedeh Point.

Massive, house-sized swells (five to eight metres high) crashed into the cliff faces with incredible force. The resulting rebound waves came back and smashed into the incoming rollers. We were being hit from both sides with these giant colliding waves, making for tricky paddling. The ocean's color transformed from turquoise to a dark blue, indicating a change to deep water and open-ocean conditions. The kayak remained stable as we moved away from the point. As we crested a swell, we spotted a tanker out on the open water, then it disappeared as we entered the canyon-like trough of the wave. After we rounded Gehekalok Point, we were getting quite used to the roller coaster ride through the swells, and had lunch aboard the kayak. Nearby, the ocean was hammering a small rock island, shooting 10-metre vertical sprays of water. Only 20 metres from the action, I pulled the camera out from under the deck for a shot, when both Dave and I heard a loud roar coming from behind us. We turned to see a steep six- to seven-metre rogue wave breaking and heading for us. Up to this point, the swells had been clean, but in that instant, in the trough of the wave that created the break, I spotted a shallow reef. Dave shouted, "Put the camera away! Put the camera away! Paddle! Paddle! Paddle!" I hurriedly jammed the camera under the deck and paddled like mad. Pumped full of adrenaline, we made that kayak move as never before, narrowly evading the oncoming wave that would have crushed us against the lava cliffs. We were instantly filled with pure joy and elation; we laughed giddily, and whooped in relief at escaping the close call. We aimed toward Cibandowah Beach, a deserted 18-kilometre stretch of white sand rimmed by dark, low-lying jungle.