Two days ago I had written to a friend:
“Just came out of the water. Love being constantly humbled by the waves, constantly being thrilled. I will sorely miss this human existence.”
Little did I expect that this human existence could have ended earlier than planned as today the surf got me. I was definitely humbled, but the thrill wasn’t there. Close call.
There were no decent breaks happening; mostly dumpers across the width of the beach. I thought that if I could get out past the breakers, I just might catch the odd good one.
Getting there proved hard. A good rip got me out most of the way, but it then disappeared, leaving me to negotiate how best to get past the bigger breakers a little further out. Luck would have it that a large set rolled in before I was able to do this.
The first wave broke just in front of me. Not something desirable, but easy enough to duck dive under and roll with the force of the churning water. Hold the breath until the wave passes, regain the surface, grab hold of the body board again and resume swimming.
Within seconds the second wave broke. Also in front of me. Curse my luck to be in such a bad spot. Hold the breath again. Get tumbled. Feel the immense tug of the body board strapped onto my elbow as the wave tries to snap it off. Find my way to the surface. Grab a breath and summon the energy to make it up and over the third wave before it breaks.
Didn’t quite make it.
Was at the very top when it spilled me over backwards causing me to fall upside down about eight feet crashing simultaneously on my body board as the waves full ferocious weight hit.
I felt my left leg twist in a way that it normally wouldn’t.
If this wasn’t bad enough, while still being tumbled I realised that the cord holding the body board to my right elbow was knotted tightly around my waist and my left leg making it impossible to disengage myself quickly in order to get to the surface before the next wave came through.
I don’t normally swear, but in this instance I thought: “Fuck me. This is serious”.
The waves were breaking about ten to twelve seconds apart. Usually enough time to get through a wave, regain one’s composure and decide the next move.
After about ten seconds and still under water (the breaking wave had moved past, but I was still fumbling with the cord wrapped around me), I began to worry that if the next wave were to break on me before I had a chance to get to the surface and get some air, the situation could deteriorate. Worse yet, I didn’t want it to break just as I broke to the surface.
The blessing of the day was that there were no more breaking waves. The third one was the last one of this particular set and I was able to free myself after about fifteen seconds and come up to a sea that was, thankfully, relatively quiet.
My knee hurts tonight as I write this blog, but I’ll “live” with this pain.
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