Paddling Out

The surf is powerful today. Ripples on the surface of the Ocean turn into 6-foot waves that curl down and crash in a thunderous roar. Hesitation. I’m excited and scared at the same time, unsure which feeling is stronger. Where does the fear come from? I never hurt myself surfing. Except that one time in Santa Cruz…

I’m holding my head between my hands. My buddy Cyril is standing in front of me with a worried face, borderline freaked-out.
– “Are you Ok, Cedric?”
– “My jaw hurts.”
– “I know, you’ve been repeating this for the past 5 minutes.”
I have no idea how I got here. I remember paddling out; I remember a big wave and a guy who tried to ride it on his belly, totally out of control, gliding towards me and bumping in the turbulence of the whitewater… and then nothing. Not even a blur. A time loss, as Agent Mulder would say. Cyril recounts that he couldn’t see what happened in the wave but he saw me get out of the water holding my head in one hand and my board in the other, walking to the rocks, putting my board down and sitting with my head in my hands. When he got there I kept telling him “My jaw hurts” like a broken record. The doctors later said it was a serious concussion: the out-of-control-guy’s runaway board probably hit the side of my head pretty hard. This caused a short-term memory loss – a symptom more common with car crashes but a 9’ fiberglass board whacking you in the head at full speed can deliver the same effect. I was lucky!

I move my head from side to side to shake off the past and step back into the present, to convince myself that I can do this and forget that my previous attempts to ride large waves and short boards have all been fruitless. This is a new place (Santa Teresa, Costa Rica), a new board (a 6’4 Fish) and in many ways a new me (freed from many ghosts): perfect conditions for a new beginning. I start paddling out with the firm intention to get beyond the break so I can take off at the point where the waves have the maximum slope, like a true surfer. But the surf keeps pounding and pushing me back again and again, until there is no strength left in my shoulders and my taste buds are saturated with salt.

I take a break on the beach, drink some fresh water and observe the experienced surfers. I watch them paddle and ‘duck dive’ into the big waves tirelessly. It seems so easy… Then I realize that before I learn to surf big waves I need to learn to paddle out into big waves. Mountaineers don’t climb all the way up mountains by keeping their eyes set on the summit: they conquer the slopes bend after bend, step after step, putting all their attention in each of them. In order to get past the whitewater I must focus on every paddle stroke, every duck dive. The first big wave rushes towards me – a bubbling mountain of water. I push my board down with all the strength that’s left in me, and dive. I feel the powerful swirl of the wave passing over me, and emerge on the other side. I take a deep breath, shake the salt water off my eyes and start paddling again, filled with a sense of victory.

Cedric, 11/15/11

I dedicate this piece to Andy, the only surfer I know who admits being scared.