The Drifter: Flowing In Indo With Rob Machado

When it comes to scoring epic surf, the road less traveled is a risky venture. But when on a mission to find empty waves in an obscure tropical locale, sometimes there’s no choice but to set out on your own for parts unknown. That’s what pro surfer Rob Machado does in The Drifter, the tale of a harried, um, pro surfer who escapes to Indonesia to leave the buzz behind. Motoring down a dusty trail that serves as an Indo expressway, he takes his last contact with the outside world—his cell phone—and flings it in the dirt. It’s a symbolic cutting of the umbilical cord that keeps him connected with the draining demands of the agents and publicists so eager to keep him on top of the pro surf heap so they can continue to reap their percentages back in cubicle land. Eschewing the last vestiges of civilization, he immerses himself in the Indonesian landscape and seeks surf enlightenment along a Zen-like path.

The movie begins with footage of a young-looking Machado, happily swamped in the hype of winning the U.S. Open of Surfing in Huntington Beach, California. The screaming crowds perched on the pier; the competitors’ neon jerseys; a disembodied voice blaring on and on about the next contestant needing eight points to take the lead in another heat: all parts of the successful grom’s dream come true of surf stardom. But nine to 10 months a year on the pro circuit (or pro circus), even when it’s hitting some of the most famous surf spots in the world, takes its toll. Somewhere along the way, Machado began to crave a purer stoke.

Thus, The Drifter begins as a quest to reconnect with surfing on a more personal level; to take a journey to another land and follow it wherever it goes. Doing so, however, means letting go of the comforts of home—a soft bed, running water, familiar eats and certain elements of cleanliness, comfort and hygiene. The payoffs of sparsely surfed double-overhead lefts grinding perfectly down an unnamed point break in Lombok, Java or Bali don’t come easy. To freely butcher a line from Ringo Starr: “You’ve got to pay your dues if you want to score those tubes.”

On the phone from Los Angeles, Machado is just as cool as you’d expect him to be, cordially answering questions about filming, surfing, and traveling as we discuss some of the more philosophical aspects of life that he observed on the road. And like his character in The Drifter, his outlook is very much to take it as it comes. Sage as well as surfer, Machado comes to some wise conclusions that would do any traveler well. He talks about staying in the moment and accepting things for what they are. In the film, his character says that “high expectations make poor traveling companions,” which he explains on the phone in more detail: “If you go somewhere expecting to find 10-foot waves and all you see are four-foot waves, you’re going to be bummed.” But, let’s face it, there’s plenty you can do on four-foot waves. “So if you go expecting nothing,” Machado says, “you’ll be stoked for something.” Fortunately for the cinematic majesty of the film, he scored enough 10-foot waves during his time in Indo to leave the lesser surf on the cutting room floor.

Deep in the credits at the end of the reel, where Machado throws out his thanks to everyone who helped make the movie, there’s a short mention of an older Japanese surfer who got cleaned up in Uluwatu, Bali. When asked about the backstory, Machado lets out a hearty laugh. “A friend and I were out on a big day at Ulu’s,” he recounts. “Since the surf was huge, we walked around a cliff to paddle out from behind. For a while it was just us, but then we saw this older Japanese guy who had been paddling out for an hour and finally made it to the outside.” Machado says he congratulated the man—who was obviously stoked to be there, not to mention sitting in the lineup beside a big name pro—when all of a sudden, a hefty set loomed on the horizon. The Japanese surfer scratched for the first wave while Rob and his bro paddled out the back. They watched the man just miss, and then looked toward the horizon to see a monster wave jacking up on the reef. The guy was in no position to do anything but get worked. “He got pounded,” Machado says.

Rob and his bro went on to catch some pretty good rides that day, wondering what ever happened to their Nipponese friend. Later that afternoon, the man suddenly reappeared, having gone through the whole rigmarole once more just to make it back to where he had previously taken his lumps. Unfortunately, as happens to many of us, by the time he was finally in position, the surf shut down and he never got a wave. Still, the older guy remained positive, and Machado found inspiration in that. “After that, I always said ‘hi’ to him whenever I saw him on the trip,” Machado remembers.

During the six months that Machado was in Indo, there were plenty of times when the surf refused to cooperate. On these hiatuses, Machado explored the landscape and connected with the locals, and even took the time to help dig a new well for a village. In the middle of one of these spells, he came upon some kids playing a simple game that involved picking up a bunch of small rocks. Although he couldn’t tell what the objective was, he found peace in concluding, “Maybe you just play and that’s good enough.”

That lesson perfectly captures the essence of The Drifter—it’s not all about winning, shredding and scoring points on the pro circuit, but just getting out there in Mother Ocean and getting wet. In fact, you don’t even need to get your shorts soaked, but simply stay on shore and meet new people to gain a fresh perspective on life. “I’d like to think there’s a reason you meet all the people you do on the road,” Machado says.

As if proving his verisimilitude, The Drifter supports Machado’s statement: We just have to be open and in tune with our surroundings to see, recognize and connect with the world. If there’s any credence to the old saying that the best surfer in the world is whoever’s having the most fun, then Machado is certainly a top contender for the title.