The Dip

Tom and I have some trepidation about going out today. We’ve often been out in the big North Shore waves of Maui before, but this morning we read reports that the waves at Peahi, the famous big wave surf spot called Jaws were going to be 70 feet high. Jaws is just a few miles further up the coast; what will they be like here?

“Let’s make a pact,“ Tom says, as he leans over conspiratorially, putting his hand on my shoulder. Tom, who is 6′ 3″ and has a shock of curly white hair, looks a little like an Irish priest in his black wetsuit. “We’ll check it out before we decide whether to go out. We don’t want to be influenced by Daniel.” Daniel, a former triathlete and ten years younger than us, is our swim partner.

“Good idea,” I say, happy to have an ally in this dangerous adventure. “Daniel will swim in anything.”

As the three of us walk to the beach, I can hear the deep rumble of huge surf breaking on the reef about a mile out from shore. It seems to shake the ground underneath us.

“It’s just a few little ones,” Daniel says with a big smile in his delightful Swiss accent. “I was out yesterday.”

When we get to our launching point, Tom and I watch the surf rolling in, spray blowing off the top of the waves. The channel is churned up and wild.

“We’ve been out in waves this big before,” I say, after watching the shore break for a few minutes.

“I think we can do it,” Tom says. We nod to each other in agreement.

We’re a go.

Daniel is already in the water, swimming out through the narrow channel. Enclosed in our black wet suits, Tom and I slip into the shallow water like Navy seals, and let the powerful rip current take us out through the channel into open water. It’s a wild Disneyland ride, with the waves crashing over the reef, sending white foam over us. We can barely see where we’re going. I brush against a rock, just a foot underneath me. It’s low tide, so I swim closer to the reef, where the water is a little deeper. Lit up by the sun, the foam is a brilliant white, looking just like snow. I love this part. This is where I want my ashes scattered when I die, I think to myself. Wow, that could be today!

We get beyond the reef, and swim on an angle into deep water. The waves are breaking over our heads, and we duck under the big ones as they roll by. Using his powerful freestyle stroke Daniel is already well ahead of us, with no wet suit, no fins, and no mask – just a pair of goggles. But then, that’s Daniel – once an Ironman, always an Ironman.

As we swim on, the murky water near shore gets clearer. It’s too rough to have our usual concern about sharks. Right now we just need to stay alive. Daniel treads water until we catch up, and we exchange big grins and a thumbs up. For Daniel these are “little bumps,” compared to his days of windsurfing in fifteen-foot waves.

Once we’re far enough beyond the shore break, we swim parallel to the beach, up towards the lifeguard stand, about a mile away. It’s comforting to know the lifeguards are probably watching us through their binoculars. Thanks to Tom’s brightly colored fluorescent orange, green and yellow swim cap, and my red swim cap, we can be seen from far away.

We swim some more, with the waves tossing us every which way, and then stop for another breather. It’s exhilarating to be at eye level in the ocean and see a 15-foot wave rolling in, about to break. “Wahoo!” I scream, as a wave lifts me high in the air, then drops me down on the other side. Daniel laughs and lets out a roar. When we reach our marker, Tom shouts at the top of his lungs, “Stage Three!” Our marker is a small sign on a tree, far in to shore. “Stage Three!” we all cry, waving our arms and raising three fingers. On the beach, looking like tiny stick figures, we can see our friends Katharine and Corina waving at us. If it were anyone else, they’d wonder if we were drowning and needed help.

We slog through the heaving water for another twenty minutes or so, keeping our eyes open for waves about to break over us. After making little progress, we decide to turn around and go back. The current is too strong for us to get to Stage Two. We’re far out now, and can barely see the shore. The backs of the waves rise up so high they block out the beach. We swim back the way we came. As we get closer, I’m relieved to see the sign off in the distance.

Now comes the hard part. We need to line up on the sign, so we don’t get swept by the current to the outside of the reef; then we’d be in serious trouble. But as we get closer in to shore, the rip current moves in the opposite direction towards the rocks. Daniel is off like a shot towards the beach. Tom and I stick close together, sometimes swimming on our backs using our fins, so we can duck when the waves break. ”We’re on target!” Tom shouts as we check our alignment. I nod and give a thumbs up. The waves and current are tossing us in every direction.

At last I can touch bottom, but I know that I’m not there yet. I still have “The Dip” ahead of me. This is a violent stretch of water, which is like a giant washing machine, created by the waves breaking as they roll towards shore, and the spent waves going back out to sea. For thirty yards or more, I can’t touch bottom. I’m stuck in a no man’s land. What I’ve learned from past experience is to hold on to my mask with one hand, so it won’t get ripped off, and purposefully throw myself in the path of a breaking wave. The wave rolls me in towards shore, before a receding wave pulls me back out.

This is like my life, I think. Many times I’m sure I’m on solid ground, but then suddenly there is no bottom. I have to surrender. I have to go with the flow. Another wave comes crashing in, wild in its majesty as it bears down on me, roaring like a freight train. I take a breath and duck under. I feel the power of it as it pounds against my back. I come up for air. A smaller one rolls in, and I let it pick me up and hurl me towards the shore. I still can’t touch and I have my fins clutched to my chest so I don’t lose them.

I try swimming, but don’t make any progress. The current is taking me down towards the rocks. Eventually I catch a good ride, and suddenly the ground is right underneath me. I struggle to stand up as the receding wave tries to suck me back out. Big rocks and chunks of coral, the size of large potatoes, are being thrown up on the beach, and then pulled out like missiles by the receding wave. They bang painfully against my ankles as I struggle up the steep slope of the beach. Each step is like walking through fire. I can see Tom and Daniel on shore watching my exit. Finally I’m free.

We all high-five each other with big grins on our faces. “Well, everybody had fun and nobody got hurt,” Tom laughs. Katharine and Corina, who usually swim with us, have been watching from the beach. They give us a cheer. “That was crazy out there!” they say. “It was so fun to see those heads bobbing around!” Happy as a bunch of young kids who have just gotten away with doing something dumb and dangerous, we walk back along the beach together.

If this is what it’s like to grow old, I’ll take it.