On an early morning of brisk tradewinds, Suis verged on blown-out as curtains of spray rose off the long backs of the waves.
Watching from shore, I saw my neighbor Debbie, a regular-stance surfer like me (we stand with left foot forward), get a great roller-coaster backside ride on a left-breaking wave, turning through section after section until the whitewater crashed and she lay down on her board, coasting shoreward.
The wave made her look small. She’s 5 feet 9 inches tall.
“Great ride!” I said when she got to shore.
“I wish I’d had time for a couple more,” she said as we walked up the street. “You’re going, right?”
“Nah.”
“What?” she cried. “Why not?”
“I don’t like getting blown around.”
“It’s not as windy as it looks from shore,” Debbie said.
She knew exactly what to say to get me going, and she was right. Once you clawed your way through the offshore, northeast wind in your face and onto a left-hander wave, the sideshore, east wind gave you an extra push while the offshore wind held the wall up just enough.
By evening the waves were twice as big and rising. Suis was closing out on the sets. As I walked up Diamond Head Road to watch the waves off Cliffs, a firetruck and ambulance approached with flashing lights and sirens.
“It’s pounding out there,” said a man, sitting in the cab of his truck with the door open, to a surfer who’d just come in. The surfer slowly shook his head. “Some big ones,” he said in a subdued tone.
The rescue squad was bringing up a surfer on a stretcher. A tanned, muscular young waterman, he looked disoriented and spent.
THE NEXT morning, when the waves were even bigger as the swell peaked, I thought of the injured surfer and the local lifeguard slogan, “When in doubt, don’t go out.”
So I went for a swim instead.
Sammy came paddling in, his face relaxed, eyes lit up.
“It’s really good, the lefts are reforming, you should go out.”
I swallowed my pride.
“It’s too big for me.”
“That’s OK,” he said in a consoling — well, maybe condescending — tone. “I caught some waves for you.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said.
“At least you know your limits,” Sammy said with a respect that put my sarcasm to shame.
On the third day, as the swell waned and the wind dropped, I ventured out and experienced the rare delight of gliding frontside on some big, clean, right-breaking Suis waves.
A late bloomer, I’m finally understanding what my surf coach Donny Mailer meant in our teens when he said, “Paddle for the bump in the wave.” Under certain conditions in the Suis rights, a convex lens forms in the peak that you can take off behind. It stalls the wave so you can sometimes make the sheer drop and try for a barrel. I’ve been trying, but cautiously, weighing the risk.
Surfing, like any dangerous sport, is about knowing when to stay within your limits and when to push them. Sometimes, the limits win. In his 70s, surfer and environmentalist George Downing lost his balance due to inner-ear damage from freezing California waters and Hawaii big-wave hold downs. He could no longer surf, but until he died in March, at 87, he worked to protect the ocean resources that had given so much joy and meaning to his life, while the rest of us caught some waves for him.
At 6 p.m. July 29, at the closing event for the 10th Honolulu Surf Film Festival in the Doris Duke Theatre, George will be commemorated in a short tribute film before the screening of “The Essence.” The film by Bud Browne and Anna Trent Moore shows him surfing, along with friends Buzzy Trent, Duke Kahanamoku, Barry Kanaiaupuni, Gerry Lopez and other greats. It will be followed by a panel discussion.
Other films screening through Aug. 3 include a program of locally made shorts such as “Like Water,” about Hawaii lifeguards, and the soul-searching feature “Momentum Generation” about a surf star posse of the ’90s. For more information, go to 808ne.ws/surf-films.
“In the Lineup” features Hawaii’s oceangoers and their regular hangouts, from the beach to the deep blue sea. Reach Mindy Pennybacker at mpennybacker@staradvertiser.com or call 529-4772.
