The Freedom Boat

Like water birds that are weary of travel who rest in a not so familiar sea, me and the rest of the surfers bob up and down in the water while we float on our boards. We are a diverse gaggle of cultures that also like seabirds yap and yell using different languages and expressions as we wait for the natural trigger that flips and drives us to migrate. We are a cross of Zen and adrenaline, a calm yet edgy crowd.

Watching a set come through I realize that these waves are as big as I have ever paddled out in, two to three times overhead and the power of the wave alone demanding respect; I am attentive. For the first set I paddle outside of the lineup and watch the locals that have grown here to better understand this wave’s character. I see them placing themselves in chilling positions and forcing their bodies over the falls to make the two story vertical drop. I mentally take note that my heart rate has gone up significantly. The wind is straight off-shore creating great plumes of smoke like spray that heave off the top of these blazing green walls of water.

Now I look to the horizon of this strange land, I am a bit day dreamy because all of this seems so surreal, I didn’t expect to be here less than a month ago, I was supposed to save my vacation for the summer. Something catches my eye and I am woken from my daydream, I see it in the distance. Warping the ocean to satisfy its robust figure a monster is approaching and as I had thought that I had paddled beyond all possible waves breaking I am in a truly dazed position. When it comes to surfing you have to feel right, all of your senses must be functioning correctly to put yourself in the correct position. I surprisingly don’t seem to use much effort at all before I find myself in the right spot. The greatest sensation now overpowering all other senses is the gut dropping feeling I get as I am hoisted up on this three story elevator ride. Along with my gut finding a new home, my heart now resides in my throat. The Spray blinds me and as faithfully as I can I trust in my calmness and ability to get me through this. All at once the spray resides I find myself at the bottom of the wave and doing a full squat to recover from all of the downward momentum. I instinctively turn face to face with the wave and from this pause it is all slow motion. I look up to find that the suns angle has turned my entire wave into a mirror, a shimmering wall of sun flakes. Past the mirror I make out distant black dots which can be nothing but the heads of other surfers. With all of the wave’s power now throwing a hollow pit behind me, I hit fast forward and as if from a science fiction space invader film I am now propelled at light speed down the line. My board skipping on the water I gain control by moving my rear foot back onto the tail. Now I am truly flying, spraying and dodging heads down the line. Though I now feel a bit more comfortable as I catch one after the other, this place maintains a real mystique about it and will always remain a destination unknown