It’s been quiet over here. A little too quiet. I can hear the crickets chirping outside my window.
Weird. I don’t remember hearing crickets here before. And I thought I closed my window? I toss the covers off of me, spring up vertically to a sitting position, and listen close..
I just moved. Same city, but a couple miles closer to the beach. I’m about a 15 minute walk now. No more than 2 miles to the pier. Can I hear the waves right now? I know I’m around the corner, but there’s no fucking way..
It’s early. Not sure what time, but it’s dark out. And cold as fuck. What did the forecast say? What I thought was the sound of rolling swell is actually Santa Ana winds.
It’s funny; that feeling you get in your gut when you’re expecting to surf some swell. I can’t believe the baby’s sleeping through this. The whole family is asleep – I might have gotten up early enough. The rare moment when opportunity meets preparation. Next thing you know, I’m out the door.
It could have been the nerves, but the drive down was a blur. Not even a stop for coffee; It must have been the nerves. As I pull up at the light to cross PCH, I can hear the dull roar of the ocean get louder. It’s getting lighter now, and I can see the spray billowing over the top of a set of waves. My stomach’s doing jumping jacks.
I’ve been a bit sick. My son got it from school, then my wife got it, baby got it, and I’m the last in line. All I can think of is how I can’t get a full breath in right now, yet here I go, huffing and puffing in a jog across the sand. Coughing up that disgusting, heavy mucus as I put my leash on, I notice the resemblance in the water color.
Water is cold, but it’s colder outside. My head and ears feel it the most. The Santa Ana’s feel like a freezer fan on my neck. Where did everybody go? The sun is starting to show near the horizon, and the few heads that I saw in the lineup have emptied out. They must have all just caught waves, because it’s just me out here now.
There is definitely some push in the water. Head high peaks are rolling through underneath me, breaking about 25 yards closer to the shore. Am I in the right spot? I browse around looking for someone to be paddling back out, but I wish I hadn’t.
I scan the shoreline and don’t see anyone walking up the beach. Did they get pushed down with the current? I’m sitting on my board, and I turn back around to check for waves – no, I am not in the right spot. I’m in a horrible spot.
That panicked, dreadful pit found its way to my gut before I could even start my sprint of a paddle out. This wave’s stacking up at least a couple feet overhead, and it’s not a mushy roller – its gonna throw top to bottom. Arms spinning like a Dead Or Alive song, lungs whistling, I’m trying to pace my breath because I know there are waves behind this one.
Every wave looks bigger when you’re underneath it; when it stands up on top of you. I’m pushing the nose of my board as deep as the sea will hold it, and looking up at a near 90 degree angle to see the lip start to throw. Just made it. That thing was near double-overhead? I don’t remember the last time I’ve surfed shit like this..
It felt like I was duck diving for 2 whole seconds. The bottom of that wave was wide. And it pulled me back a good 15-20 feet too. Fuck. I know exactly what this means. As I surface and clear my eyes, I’m staring down this angry, dark, hideous, (at least) 10 foot bomb about to be dropped right on top of me. Or, right in front of me? Can I make it under this thing? Shit. Shit. Shit. What do I do? Hearts thumping like a jackhammer. I’m not turning around; I can’t. Full steam ahead.
I know I’ve only got like 4 good breaths before I have to go under. I’m trying not to breathe too deep, but also trying to make sure I’ve got a good enough hold for this one. My arms are swinging like Oscar De La Hoya, I’m even kicking at this point, and I feel my chest tighten up – I get an itch in my throat. Fuck. I’ve gotta cough. The waves starting to peak now, and I’m directly in the danger zone. Oh no. I’m coughing, paddling, my nose is running, I can’t ditch my board – I need floatation, the lips coming down on me, shit. Horrible breath, half a cough, quick duck dive, squeezing my rails as I prepare for impact, and…
Did I just hear a cricket?
hwilsin
Drew Stanfield