Overhead Rights at Sunset

Today I went for my surf lesson.  Every time we've been here, we have taken surf lessons from "Uncle Bryan," the 6th generation Hawaiian (I think?) who has trained pro surfers like Andy and Bruce Irons, and Bethany Hamilton.  Bethany Hamilton is the pro who lost her arm from a shark attack - there's a movie in theaters based on her life - Soul Surfer.  I haven't seen it, but this isn't a movie review.  This one's about me, haha.

As you can imagine, my surfing skills need a lot of work since I only do it once every year or two.  With this in mind, I don't planning on chasing any massive waves anytime soon, nor would the surf school throw me into that sort of calamity.  Typically, they take intro students to Chun's Reef, a pretty forgiving place with small waves.

But not today.  The stars have aligned and we are to Sunset.  As in Sunset Beach.  The Sunset Beach where mega tournaments are hosted, the waves get insane, boards get snapped like twigs.  Lucky for me, the waves are small today, about 2-3 feet.  The interesting thing about Hawaiians is that they are the only ones to  measure the wave from the back...so this ends up being 4-6 feet.  Some a few inches taller, so that it ends up being "overhead."  Sunset can get to double overhead, and after my experience today, I don't know if I could practice enough to surf something like that.

For pride's sake, I should note: I caught 3 sweet waves before the cameraman came out.  Both Greg, my instructor, and I laughed at the idea that as soon as the cameraman would come out, I'd get dusted every single time.  While not true, I certainly had my share of spills...like this one:

Instead of focusing on what I was doing, I looked back at the wall of water chasing me onto the beach, hearing the thunderous roar of a thousand horses running through an aluminum tunnel.  And then I ate it.  Big time.  When I flew off of my board, I got tossed around wilder than a dime in the spin cycle.  It took a lot out of me, so I came up gasping for air...just in time for the next wave to hit me even harder than the previous one.  There is something so comically intimidating about sitting still, watching this wall of water coming at you and knowing that you're gonna get banged up, but you have nowhere to run or hide.  I asked Greg what to do in this situation, trying to prepare myself if I were to arrive in this situation.  He suggest that I throw my board behind me, dive into the wave and hope for the best.  I've got a 12 foot longboard with a leash attached to my leg, so once the wave sends the board flying, I'm going with it.  Haha, and boy did I go with it.

After that wave, I tried paddling back out ever so slowly, still completely gassed from the playful wrath of Mother Nature.  Of course, I didn't paddle enough to either side of where the waves were crashing, so I ate two more waves and probably started looking like driftwood.  Here's Greg, towing me back out since my shoulders were completely worn out from paddling.  Oh yeah, and that was after the first wave I caught, so by now, I was using the board as a bed.

I started getting the hang of it as time went on, and it was pure bliss.  There was a monster wave (for me, anyway) that Greg started yelling "Paddle! Paddle! Paddle! You're gonna get barreled on this one!"  Getting barreled means that the wave forms a barrel around you, quite likely the most beautiful moment one can have with nature.  My heart started racing and I paddled as fast as my battered arms could take me.  I waited for the lift the wave would produce, and as the nose of my board picked up speed and started aiming downwards, I jumped up, took off down the face...and wiped out.  Spin cycle, rinse, and most definitely, repeat.