It was five o clock by the time I finished at the car dealership. I waited more than three hours and basically was told they couldn’t fix my problem. Shrug. At that time in Hawaii though, trying to drive from Kakaako to Ewa Beach is a nightmarish bumper-to-bumper parking lot, so I decided to check out a new spot for surfing (thankful I’d brought my new mid-length board with me).

               The sun was low on the horizon when I arrived at Kakaako Beach park, looking for a break called “flies” that a co-worker told me about. I found the spot, but it was pretty lame for actual waves, and the break on that day was too close to the rock wall to feel safe to me. Instead I carried my board and flip-flopped my way down to the end of the waterfront right on the edge of Kawelos harbor where there were stone steps down into the water, a few rocks at the base, and then basically open ocean deep enough for birthing of relatively large ships. I would need to cross a danger zone ship passthrough to get to a break on the other side of it that I could see was at least sending waves, and a few people were out there surfing.

               Did I mention I am pretty darn scared of water, and the ocean, and new surfspots? Yeah, this was a strange experience for me. I stood on the edge of the water for probably 5-10 minutes before getting the courage to get into the water, and even then it was only a partial courage. I needed to jump out from the stone steps to get over a rock and land safely. I didn’t hurt myself, but I did bonk the back end of my board on the stone step because I didn’t jump out far enough. Not an illustrious start.

               Paddling across to the actual break was rather stressful. My board was fine, but the wind was up and the waves were choppy, and the surrealism began to set in. Low light, sun burning through a haze of grey clouds wanting to rain, but too lazy to do so, the chop of wave against my board through spray in my face, the deep darkness of the waves, and the sporadic movements of various currents pulling me in multiple directions all conspired to make this a “what am I doing” moment. Except that’s not what I was thinking. Once I was in the water it was. “Paddle to the break,” “read the waves” “That was a wonky wave.” “Paddle some more” Catch a very strangely angled wave, ride it too long down the face and lose most of my moment before I stand. Bummer.

               Did I forget to mention this new board was a full two feet smaller than my previous board, and I was still getting used to it, but more on that in a minute. Now I was in the lineup, trying to read the waves and stay out of the way. I was no expert surfer, just a psycho who is apparently obsessed with the sport even though he knows nothing about it.

               I spent another thirty minutes or so paddling, failing to catch waves, and getting confused by the various movements. Finally I was in the perfect spot, but facing the wrong way as a semi-clean wave came my way. I flailed and probably looked ridiculous as I turned, but I was able to catch it last moment from the peak just as the white water crashed to my left. There I should have turned right, but my glance at the white water (and another unknown force) made my pathway left inevitable. I stood on the board, got a short ride in, tried to turn right down the wave and the board basically just stalled right there and the remainder of the wave passed beneath me as I fell.

               I didn’t think much of the stall, but now I really wanted another wave. The light was very low, visibility bad, and I had heard sharks like to hunt at dusk (check), near harbor mouths (check). I thought it best to get myself back into shore, back to the stone steps where I had already bashed my board once.      Paddle paddle paddle, and I was back there, but I had to time my exit to catch the railing on the stone steps because if the wave was receding the moving water wouldn’t let me move forward at all. I had to wait for a weak wave to splash me up against the steps, try not to smash my board (or my face), catch the rail, and pull myself up.

               I am writing this, so you know I was mostly successful. I did scuff up my board a bit on the lowest step, but otherwise was able to harness a little wave to push me right to my feet and move out. I recovered my flip flops, which I had hidden in between some rocks near the steps, and went over to a point to spray the saltwater off my board, and that’s when I noticed I was missing one of the big fins on my quad fin setup. Yup, that bang on the rocks had taken my left-side fin off entirely. No wonder the turning on the board was a bit squirrelly.

               Nevermind all that though, the weirdest thing about the whole event is the dreamlike almost nightmarish quality it has. It’s only been a few hours, but it still feels like something that never actually happened. I’ve only been surfing about two and a half months, and I have had some close calls and a bunch of weird experiences, but nothing quite like this. I am glad I went out, but it still feels like something very strange and uncanny and straight up unreal. 

Reflecting on this story months later, I remain unable to draw too many conclusions or lessons from the event. When we think about the Christian walk, we are often entering places we don’t quite understand, a spiritual war with forces and chaos swirling around us in ways we don’t understand. Clarity is low as a new believer, skill is lower, and going out alone is dangerous (which is a future post). Mostly I am thankful that God protected me during this foolish excursion. A few short weeks ago there was a shark attack at that same break, early in the morning, and that could easily have been me.

The lesson here, I think, is that we ought not go too deep, too far, too fast into the dangers of the spiritual battle, yet when we do in zeal, the Lord is present for His people. He might have chastised me in many ways, but it is enough here that we remember that God is for us, the battle is real, and we need to keep going.