Sun, 6 Oct 2002
Just outside the anchorage at Lenakal there is a beautiful surf pounding on the reef which called to me when we were there, and it still does today even after the disaster.
Maybe this is what draws surfers: the blue sky, the blue ocean, the swells rising to form a wave, then the wave becoming a wall, then the wall curling over and breaking onto the reef in a pounding white fury of foaming thunder. And behind this breaker another swell rises, into an even higher blue wall. Endless. I couldn't keep my eyes off of them as we were anchored nearby and one day when I was in the dingy alone I motored towards the waves. I just meant to go closer, to get a feel of the power by being near to its thunder.
There was a safe place where the reef ended and the breakers stopped. It was calm there and I stopped the dingy and watched. Then I wanted to feel the rise of the swell. I moved forward a little. Can you predict what happened? A big wave formed, and I was inside it, in its path, it was close and it turned into a wall. No time to turn and run, I hesitated, should I go straight over it? The hesitation was a mistake. I was sideways to it when it reached me, and then I saw it curl and begin to break.
The curl of the wave, the pouring white water coming down, threw me and my dingy over in an instant. The next thing I knew I was swimming and the dingy was upside down about 50 feet away. I looked behind me to see if any more waves were coming. No…good! I looked back to the dingy and I expected to see the propeller sticking up into the air, but I couldn't see it. Right then I was just worried about the boat and the motor and getting it all right again. I reached the dingy quickly, the motor was there, just tilted, but it had been submerged of course. I righted the dingy, motor and all, like a Hobie sailor by pulling on a line from one side while standing on the other. It was all intact except one oar, which I saw floating in the surf. Foolishly, I decide to leave the boat and swim to retrieve the oar, which I did, but in the meanwhile the dingy started to drift downwind and then I got about thirty minutes of good but fruitless exercise trying to catch up to it, pushing my oar ahead of me, and finally tucking the end of the oar in my pants to keep it under me, thankful for its meager but welcome support as I grew tired and started thinking about how I'd like some help.
