Shot Out of a Cannon
I look to the horizon and see a huge set of waves rolling in. This is it, I think. This is my wave! I turn my standup paddleboard towards shore and start paddling furiously to gain momentum. Paddle, paddle, paddle. My heart leaps up to my mouth as the wave swells up beneath me and my board takes off down the face. It feels like being shot out of a cannon. The sudden acceleration throws me off balance. I quickly shift my weight to the rear of the board to try and gain control. I can hear the roar of the whitewater beginning to break behind me. Oh shit, I’m out totally of control. I try desperately to turn my board to the right by putting my weight on the inside rail. Then, as if in slow motion, I watch the nose of the board dig into the water. Oh no! Before I know it, I’m flying headfirst over the board, still holding on to my paddle. I turn over and over as I hit the water.
Under the surface, unable to see, I’m struck by an alarming thought: my board is spinning through the air above me. I bring my arms up to cover my head, in case the board, with its three sharp fins, lands on top of me. I’ve had this happen before and gotten a deep cut on my forearm. That’s better than my head. Finally I come back up to the surface, relieved to see that it has missed me. I feel a sharp tug on my ankle as the leash pulls tight. I turn in time to see another wave bearing down. A surfer cuts across just a few feet away. As the wave breaks over my head, I duck under the surface. It’s like being hit by a train. When I resurface, I get hold of my board and turn it around to face into the waves. I have just enough time to scramble on before the next one comes. I get up and start paddling out beyond the break, ready to try the whole thing again.
Photo thanks to Kyle/Ian Na Ka Oi Photo
If it sounds like I’m surfing down a 30-foot face at Jaws, I’m not. I’m surfing the beginner waves at the Cove, in Kihei, Maui, which are anywhere from a few feet to waist high. But at times, like today, they can get bigger. Sometimes I wonder why they call it a beginning surf spot. It’s a narrow bay with volcanic rocks on either side. The waves break here because the water is so shallow – only two or three feet deep in many spots. If you happen to jump off your board feet first you can break a foot on the coral, or get punctured by a sea urchin. I learned early that when I fall, I have to land flat as a pancake on the water. Even then, more often than not, my tailbone hits the coral, or I cut my feet in the process. I started standup paddle surfing year ago.
Why on earth take up surfing at my age? The truth is, that for years I was afraid to try. I’ve lived on (and off) the Hawaiian Islands for twenty-five years. I love the water. I’ve windsurfed; I’ve swum with whales, I’ve swum with dolphins, I’ve done long swims in the open ocean. But I’ve always avoided surfing, wondering why surfers are so passionate about their sport. Then, one day, while out on my paddle board near the Cove, and a little bit bored, I thought, “what the heck?” If those newbies getting lessons can do it, it can’t be that hard. I try riding a small wave. I fall, then get up and try again. I watch what everyone else does. Then I catch my first wave. Nothing prepares me for the rush of flying in towards shore on that little wave. I have a flash of being ten years old and riding down a steep hill on a toboggan, totally out of control, shrieking in delight. I’m hooked!
Photo thanks to Kyle/Ian Na Ka Oi Photo
It was a steep learning curve. In the beginning I was too naïve and foolhardy to know what the rules were. One day I bailed on a big wave and my board went flying through the air, nearly hitting a local surfer on the head. “What the fuck, man. You nearly killed me,” he yelled. ”I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I pleaded. Later, I learned not to get in front of someone else and catch their wave, “Hey, that’s not cool!” a surfer informed me. “Don’t drop in!” I learned not to take on waves bigger than I can handle. I learned that as a beginner I often have to leave the good waves to the more experienced surfers, and take the leftovers. I soon get to know the regulars at the Cove. My friend Kono often shows up when the surf is up, Jackie and Michael are out there just about every day. I love watching the good ones, especially Ron, who I nicknamed “The King of the Cove.” For hours every day, in his lime-green rash guard and orange board shorts, he rides wave after wave on his twelve-foot board, sometimes walking back and forth on it, at others turning around to ride it backwards. He’d even go up to the nose of the board, and place his toes over the edge, a trick called “Hang Ten.”
Photo thanks to Hiroyuki Saita
For the most part, learning to surf is a process of trial and error. Each wave is still a learning experience. I tell myself, “Ok, try putting your weight on the inside rail and turn towards the wave.” Boom, crash. Didn’t work this time. What did I do wrong? Get up and try again. “This time move further back on the board and get my center of gravity lower by bending my knees.” But time and again, I hurtle along, completely out of control, trying to avoid the other surfers in the water. There are often five or more people in my path, and I often miss them by inches.
Photo thanks to Kyle/Ian Na Ka Oi Photo
Each time I crash and get back up on the board, I realize that this I’m getting a lesson on how to live my life. I fall, I get up, I try again. Each time I face my fear and ride a bigger wave, I feel more confident, even if I end up going head over heels. When a wave tosses me around, I realize that I’m learning to surrender a bit more. Some days, especially if I’m worried, or stuck in my head, I’ll go out and not be able to catch a single wave. It’s very humbling. Then, there are other days when I get beaten up again and again. But I keep trying again and again. Often I’ll get so exhausted and disoriented from being thrown around by the surf that I have to quit. When this happens, I get to see where my limits are. There are times I get to laugh at myself, such as the day I clambered up on my board after fifteen or so falls, and found myself facing backwards on the board.
Surfing demands a lot of physical stamina. The good surfers make it look so easy. With stand-up paddle surfing, the hard part is not so much riding a wave in, but paddling back out through nine or more waves. Surfers can duck under a wave with their board, but paddlers have to paddle straight into a breaking wave and ride up over it while standing up, with the whitewater crashing over the board. It takes balance, energy and a degree of craziness. Oh my God, I say to myself as I see a huge wave cresting in front of me. How am I ever going to get over that? And then there is the next one, and the next one. By the time I get out to where the waves break, I’m so winded I can barely breathe.
Photo thanks to Kyle/Ian Na Ka Oi Photo
There are many days when I ask myself, “Why am I doing this?” My life over the past year has been one of huge turmoil – going through a divorce, finding a new home, financial upheavals, learning to live on my own. Surely there are some gentler ways of getting exercise? Why not yoga or Tai Chi? But then I realize that surfing is a perfect metaphor for my life right now. It demands that I take risks and confront my fears; it demands that I be wholehearted; it demands that I be one-pointed. And most of all, it demands that I surrender to forces far greater than myself. And then there are those sweet moments of getting the ride of your life, and shouting “whoopee!” to the world.
Photo thanks to Kyle/Ian Na Ka Oi Photo
Who would have expected that at age 75 I’d once again find myself a jock? I alternate my surfing days with mile-long ocean swims on the North Shore of Maui. I’ve never felt so alive, so healthy, or so present. Yet there is a bittersweet side to this. If I’m lucky, I may have a few years more years of this. I know that if I place all my identity in this physical body going on forever, it is a recipe for suffering. Someday I’ll slow down, but until then, I’ll continue to show up, paddle out, and get the next wave. As one old surfer said, “Don’t let anyone tell you you’re too old to surf. Like no one.”