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TheOceansof Kandui
Talking about it is running
your mouth at a backyard
barbeque.
Doing it means moving
to Indonesia.
Talking about it means
endlessly poking around
Google Earth and posing
bullshit questions like,
“I wonder what that point’s
like on a full moon?”
Doing it means selling
the farm and wandering
completely off the grid,
building a dream out of raw
clay with your bare hands.
That’s what it meant
for John and Ainsely Ocean.
JungledUp
withJohn
andAinsley
Ocean
2. explains John in a follow-up some weeks later. “He also
knew we had a little bit of money to start a project, which
eventually became Kandui. So we sold our farm and left
with our backpacks stuffed.”
“After doing much research, watching September
Sessions over and over, as well as a National Geographic
special on the Mentawai Islands we were prepared—or so
we thought,” adds Ainsley. “We were ready for our dreams
of a wave-filled future, where it’s always offshore at that
secret spot, and we’re all just shredding. You know the
dream: we wanted to surf more and live simply. The Big
Island just wasn’t hitting the spot in the wave department,
and we needed to get away from crowded surf, the war on
terror, away from the TV and crack heads. It was simple,
we wanted to go back in time…and we have.”
The Oceans were married in 1999 after a chance
meeting down a lonely Big Island road. John had arrived
by way of Long Beach and Oahu, Ainsely via New Zealand
and Canada to the Islands. By 2004 they’d sold the farm to
their then caretaker, liquidated all their other assets and
animals, and officially pulled up stakes in search what
Thoreau called, “a deliberate existence.” Armed with “board
“How we got here? Planes, cars, boats, smiles, tears,
and many a hard lesson learned,” says Ainsley.
“We met on the Big Island and were married on an
11' 11" tandem board we called The General,” she continues.
“John shaped and glassed it.”
It’s hard to pinpoint specifically where her words
are coming from. She’s e-mailing either from a satellite
connection somewhere in the Mentawai Islands or maybe
from an Internet café in Padang. Who knows? The safe
assumption is she’s somewhere in the nether reaches of
Sumatra.
“We owned and operated Ocean’s Organic
Avocadoes on the Big Island of Hawaii,” says Ainsley. “John
has a streak of Doctor Doolittle in him, so we were always
surrounded by animal friends. We had sheep, peacocks,
ducks, cats, turkeys, monkeys, bats, anteaters, and a lot
of dogs. We bred Neapolitan Mastiffs and shipped them
around the world. Our organic farm was happening, and
we were eating like royalty. Looking back, maybe it was in
preparation for so many meals of fish and rice in the future.”
“We had an acquaintance in Hawaii who was
working in the Mentawai islands and knew I was a carpenter,”
4. another tsunami. We dragged anchor, and our boat ended
up on the beach.
Overcoming the initial cultural and environmental
shock, their lives began to find real purpose. “We pretty
much spent the first three years building and working on
Kandui,” explains John.
As the boat trip fad started to wane and the
popularity of land-based camps grew, Kandui blossomed,
hosting A-list surfers like Kelly Slater and Andy Irons.
Business blew up. The Oceans became disenchanted. “We
realized it wasn’t what we wanted,” admits John. “It had
become too commercialized, so we left. We just wanted
the lifestyle and weren’t really after the money—just the
good life. So we bought a boat in Sibolga.
“We wanted to get around and see more of the
islands,” says Ainsely, “so we rebuilt the wooden hull into
a houseboat by scavenging and salvaging driftwood from
around the Mentawais. We spent a lot of time at anchor
in so many neat nooks and crannies. In the off season it’s
so quiet out here.”
“We motored around the islands for a couple years,
worked for Surf Aid, helped with the Quiksilver Community
Center, and earthquake assessment in south Pagai after the
8.0 quake hit Padang in 2008,” recounts John.
bags packed to the brim, a tent, an Alaskan chainsaw mill,
a spear gun, a random orbital sander, a book about what to
do when there’s no doctor around, and some avocado seeds,”
they set out into the idyllic Indonesian island chain.
“Within the first few months of being out here,
we went through some pretty gnarly electrical storms,” says
John. “I got hit by lightning.”
“Mother nature is the boss out here, that’s for sure,”
affirms Ainsley. “Earthquakes, tsunamis, raging tempests,
wind, rain, sun, lightning, fire, insects, animals. Seems like
the planet is under siege sometimes. We like to say only the
strong survive out here. One exceptionally vicious night
lightning hit a coconut tree beside our tent and we got
zapped liked no body’s business…glad we were floating on
our rubber air mattress, which was kind of serving as a boat
as it was raining so hard. John was zapped by lightning
again this year. He is a magnetic kind of guy. Three times
is a charm, or so I’ve heard.”
“Then there were the earthquakes and tsunami
in Aceh,” says John. “The big ones always seem to happen
at night. One week we experienced over 300 quakes,
relatively small ones, but most were right under us, which
makes them feel big. After one small tsunami we vacated
the island and went out to sea on a charter boat in fear of
5. tattooed sailor out here, even himself. I’m the nurse. I
prepare the tools and bail, with no interest in blood.”
“No Haagen-Dazs, that’s the hardest thing,”
confesses John, acknowledging that sometimes it’s the
little things in life that you miss most. “But really, maybe
one of the biggest challenges is reaching an understanding
with some of the locals. They’re so poor and sometimes
drive me crazy for the smallest amount, uang roko, or
smoke money. Then again, not having to deal with all the
laws and rules of the modern world is pretty nice. And
out here you meet a lot of interesting people you never
would have otherwise.”
And as for lessons learned and the evolution of
their relationship? “I think the biggest thing we have
learned is to accept ourselves and other people for who
they are, our flaws and humanity,” says Ainsley, delving
into the impact the last six-plus years of jungle living has
had on them. “It’s allowed me to let go of the expectations
we have and the feelings we hold onto and just flow and
appreciate how things are right now. Because this is it, this
is all we have this very moment. Just today.”
Being the good husband, John’s quick to add, “I’m
also so thankful to have such a loving, strong wife who has
been right there through it all with me.”
But life adrift can be a lonely affair and besides,
John’s hands seem to have a need to constantly be at work.
Eventually the couple stumbled upon what they’d been
looking for.
“We now find ourselves on a 12-hectare island in
the middle of the Indian Ocean. We’re 100 miles from
anywhere,” says Ainsley.
“It’s a tiny place called Pitojat,” adds John.
Back to square one, the couple set up camp and
began work on the newest incarnation of their dream, the
Togat Nusa Retreat.
“The buildings on the island are made from
recycled and salvaged wood, the lights are antique Dutch
boat lamps and glass balls the locals have found,” explains
Ainsley. “I think you need to actually walk in something
John has built to feel it—it’s alive. The Togat Nusa restaurant
is an example of that. The most recent addition is a pilot
whale skeleton that washed up. It was a tasty feast for the
locals. We raised it up onto the roof, a chandelier with two
glass Japanese balls for eyes. Yes, it is very Night at the
Museum over here. Are we more prepared this time? We
tried to be, but can you ever really be prepared? You can’t
know how you will react in time of disaster—luckily John
is calm. With his steady hand he’s stitched many a reef-
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