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When a close friend of mine moved to Sri Lanka a little over a decade ago, I suddenly had a good reason to go somewhere other than Indo. Roy took up residence in a secluded, horseshoe Bay named Hiriketiya, on the southern tip of the island. It was home to a few fishermen, a handful of friendly families eking out a living by whatever means they could and a trickle of expats who felt they might have stumbled upon Nirvana – all seemed mostly content with their lot.
Roy, mixing local fashion with a shirt from back home.
The charming cove was flanked by a tumble of rocks and swaying palms, giving way to dense jungle beyond the crescent-shaped beach. A pride of peacocks had the run of one headland and an old Brahmin bull patrolled the other. The screech and whoop of monkeys was a regular feature of the jungle soundtrack and occasionally a mongoose would dart out in front of the little, three-wheeled tuk tuks we used to get around. When walking anywhere at night you were frequently chaperoned by a cluster of fireflies, dancing through the steamy air like sparkling fairies, imbuing the whole setting with a sense of magic.
Waves? Most days we surfed the left-point, which inhaled any available swell and sent it spooling across a bottom where rock, sand and reef all added character to the wave shape. The middle of the beach could toss up rippable peaks while the western corner would bend a zippering right over shallow rocks when the swell kicked a little. If the waves weren’t Indo perfect, they were always fun. Most times it was just the two of us in the water and I often paddled out alone. This southern tip gets waves all year round; it’s bigger from March to October but more groomed and inviting over the southern hemisphere’s summer months.
Surfed out by day’s end, I’d devour a mixed curry plate of fish and vegetables and then wash all the brilliant spices down with one of the local delicacies – fresh, pot-set buffalo curd (yoghurt basically) drowned in treacle. It was simple living at its best.
For a day trip I spent a couple of bucks on a tuk tuk and went to nearby Dikwella; passing through the bustling town where vibrant Sri Lankan life erupted out of shop-fronts, side streets and roadside stalls selling rotis. The rotis are tasty parcels of vegetables or meats wrapped in charred, flakey flatbreads that have been shaped into triangle or pocket-shaped snacks.
Beyond the urban cacophony and alluring scents, Dikwella is also home to the Wewurukannala Vihara temple and one of the tallest, sitting Buddha statues in the world. After making a very small cash donation at the gates, I wandered through shrines painted with a brilliant fusion of Hindu and Buddhist art – the graphic scenery in the tunnel of hell was particularly unforgettable. Eventually I got closer to heaven by climbing to the top of the 160ft high Buddha and gazing out across this strange and wonderful place on the southern tip of Sri Lanka.
After that first trip I was hooked; Sri Lanka felt like a place still discovering its destiny; full of potential and infinite possibilities now that it had emerged from decades of civil war. Each time I returned, Roy had new places to explore. Just to the east was Tangalle where we surfed a cute, right reef. The wave bowled into a narrow bay, where the waist deep locals scooped white bait into nets. One morning, after a surf at White Bait bay, we dropped in on the grandiose Anantara Hotel for the buffet breakfast; stacking our plates high with every conceivable breakfast delicacy – saving just enough room for the customised omelettes prepared on the spot by the chef.
On another trip I brought my dad over with me and between stints in more modest digs we treated ourselves to two nights of the full five-star experience at the Anantara. Wandering the palatial grounds we chatted to a local guy who was employed to free-climb the trees and deliver fresh coconuts to the guests. Despite being over 60, he was lean and sinewy. We marvelled at his nimble athleticism as he wrapped his toes around the palm trunks and hauled himself up to the hanging coconuts with a machete gripped between his teeth. Back in the rooms we sipped imported beers, perused the dining options and paraded around in white dressing gowns; a couple of Ozi battlers doing their best to live large for a day or two.
Truth be told, the real riches in Sri Lanka are to be found roaming the coast in search of waves and curious adventures. Travelling west from Hiriketiya to Weligama, the road winds along the coast and it seems like almost every nook and rocky out-crop has surf potential. Many of the spots have their day and it’s just a matter of doing a little exploring and following your nose. Whether your preference is five star accommodation or something more humble, there are all kinds of places to stay on the stretch between Hiriketiya and Galle; Along the way you will likely pass the fabled Sri Lankan fishermen who sit nimbly on wooden poles that spear into the ocean floor below. Perched several feet above the water, on a slender crossbeam, their patience and dexterity seems almost impossible.
At Weligama a long, stretch of beach plays host to scattered peaks, easily visible from the road. Simply pull over, find a cornering wall and have your fun. You may dodge the odd learner or surf school student on the way out, but with even basic surfing ability you’ll have your choice of the best peaks. Travel further west to the edge of town and the offshore reefs have their secrets; curling walls hidden beyond the fishing boats that paint the shoreline in an array of pastel dots.
Head less than an hour further west of Weligama, and you’ll reach Galle, a storied city where the colonial influence of the Dutch, British, Portuguese and Chinese coalesce with local traditions, to form a vibrant scene. Once the epicentre of the local spice trade, Galle also has a few waves with classic, old-worldly backdrops. On a good day you can have a surf and catch a game of cricket at the oval in town where local and international fixtures are played.
Generally, the further west you head in Sri Lanka the more the waves come into play between October and March, while the very southern tip (Roy’s zone) boasts swell all year around. The celebrated east coast points, to the north and south of Arugam Bay, do their thing between March and October, but it’s best to remember that Sri Lanka is roughly the same size as Tasmania, so even if you are based in the southwest it’s not hard to make a dash up the east coast to chase a swell; passing through national parks where elephants roam, buffalo laze beneath trees and leopards occasionally show their spots.
Truth be told, I can’t wait to return to Sri Lanka. I’ve not divulged all its secrets here and I’m certain it has many more mysteries to reveal to me, both in the surf and beyond. When embraced with an open mind it’s a place that will always deliver a welcome sense of wonder and surprise.
In search of accommodation options for your next trip to Sri Lanka, LUEX, have you covered.
Here are some accommodation options for your next trip to Sri Lanka
Instant booking;
Global Surf Lodge Kabalana
Global Surf Beach House Kabalana
Salty Pelican Yoga Retreat|
Dreamsea Sri Lanka
Luxury;
Cape Weligama
Anantara Peace Haven
