The Salty Swamis Surf History of Sri Lanka

The Early Years

Due to Sri Lanka’s decades-long civil war, the development of surf culture on the island was greatly restricted for many years. Only after the war ended in 2009 has there been any real possibility for extended exploration of the island and the waves that form along its coasts. The history of surfing in Sri Lanka, however, dates back much further than that, with records of surfers having visited the island as early as the mid-1960s.

In 1964, Rusty Miller visited Sri Lanka for the first time while on a cruise around the world. Disembarking in Colombo, Rusty, along with his friend Patrick Goddard, met with renowned diver Mike Wilson (known later as Swami Siva Kalki) who volunteered to help arrange a surf trip along the west coast of the island then called Ceylon. They would make their way down to Kalutara and surf a left-handed wave that broke hollow and shallow along the reef, 20 yards to the south of Kalutara lagoon. Rusty would later go on to say that the experience was “too good to be real, with the green jungle growing close to the sparkling white sandy beach and the aquamarine water next to the blue, cloudless sky”

In 1968, a handful of locals from in and around Colombo found a little wave peeling off the Pinwatta beach near Panadura, just 30km south of Sri Lanka’s capital city. This pioneering group was mentored by Mike Wilson who was keen to encourage the locals to surf. Mayura Botejue, Jan Prins, Anil Amarasekera, Asita Tennekoon and Wendell Flamer Caldera were a few of the ‘surf gang’ that religiously followed Mike on his surf escapades in those early days.

A pivotal moment for Sri Lankan surf culture came one evening when the gang were shown Bud Brown’s 1964 surf film, ‘Locked In’. “From then on we were well and truly locked into the thrill of surf”, recalls Mayura. The surf gang would pile into Mike’s packed VW Kombi with four leash-less 10-12ft single fin elephant guns and head down to the beaches of Moratuwa, Unawatuna, Galle or Ahangama. The locals watching from the beach would call them ‘Kalu suddas’ (black foreigners) for performing daredevil acts on ‘planks of wood’ in turbulent waters. Often, the gang would borrow Mike’s quiver and traverse the South coast in search of waves and visiting ‘hippies’ also on the hunt for some good surf who could provide access to boards.

The 1970s & 80s

In the mid-1970s the hippie trail began to extend beyond Goa to the beaches of Hikkaduwa and Arugambay. Embracing the laid back “beach and surf” lifestyle, a small group of Australian surfers – predominantly from the East coast surf communities – found their way to Sri Lanka while seeking alternatives to the more frequented surf haven of Bali. Bruce Weller and Dave Fisher arrived in Hikkaduwa in 1973 and soon married two sisters from the village. Their frequent trips back and forth created a buzz in the Aussie surf community and by the late 70s, a small but dedicated group of surfers made up primarily of Australians, but also including Italians and French, arrived to enjoy the untouched offerings of the island.

“In those days travelling to Arugambay was wild”, Mark Faeila recalls, “travelling by CTB (the local bus service) could take up to three days because of frequent breakdowns and irregular services. Roads were more or less deserted because of the fuel rationing in 1977 and vehicles were only allowed to drive on alternative days as per their number plate”. Another option was the night train to Batticaloa, though it transitioned into a (all day) bus commute south to Pottuvil in the morning.

In 1983, after many successive trips, Mark bought a green Peugeot 203 to help with the commute. The trip from Colombo to Arugambay (360km) now took two days with an overnight stay at the circuit bungalow in Hambantota. Colombo to Hikkaduwa (115km) was a five-hour trip. According to Mark, the pay off for these arduous journeys were always worth it.

Back in the 70s, Arugam Bay was a little fishing village, with coconut trees and the odd cadjan hut dotted along the shorefront. “No hotels or guesthouses existed, only the government circuit bungalow and homestays of thatched huts and sandy floors.” There was no electricity or running water. Nothing was built above the tree line, and the sails of wooden fishing boats dotted the beach. “Five Rupees is what it would cost for your bed and dinner”, Mark exclaims. “There were very basic tea shops, no bakery. Just roti, fruit and tea during the day. Rice and curry at night. No cold drinks – Plenty of coconuts!”

Around this time, half a dozen local surfers from the East coast – Nagas, Upali and Jaya to name a few – started learning the ways of the water by borrowing surfboards from travellers. Boards were prized possessions at the time, only a lucky few were able to obtain one left behind by travellers when they returned to their homes. These local surfers would accompany their foreign friends by boat to Okanda, bicycle to Pottuvil point or by foot to Elephant Rock for overnight surf campouts.

With Sri Lanka’s reputation as a prime surf destination growing steadily, the island would likely have attracted many more surfers to its shores in the following decades if not for the onset of civil war in 1983. Even the ongoing unrest did not stop a few diehards – hailing from surf communities in Japan, Israel and countries in Europe – from visiting the island. During ceasefire periods, surfers would swoop in to take advantage of the waves, fleeing the country as soon as the threat of war was imminent.