It was race day again. Charms and I were nervous about today. It meant a lot to both of us to successfully complete the race, for many reasons.
The forecast for dropping winds for the weekend was wrong. The winds had blown all night, and the trees outside our window had amplified the sound. The trades usually drop off at dusk to start again the following morning around 8am, but it had been unusual weather all week, with continuous rain and never ceasing 20-30kt winds.
It was a short and quiet drive down to Wailua. But when we arrived at the race site, things became alive. Despite the grey of the sky, there were colourful canoes and paddlers sprawled everywhere amongst the driftwood on the beach. The drummers were drumming and the atmosphere was buzzing. The general consensus was that these conditions were big, even by Hawaiian standards. There were different responses to this. Peter was smiling gleefully, excited and pumped by the pounding waves reaching the shore. Some of the other girls were more apprehensive, asking if there were accompanying jet ski’s to save them if they huli'd.
I was completely terrified and confronted by the decision as to whether we would race or not. It was a tough moment. Back in Sydney
Erasing any kind of doubt, we went searching for Peter and our orange Hurricane.
From Charmian
Shell went first, facing a mass of frothing water, turbulent, teasing and rough. Throwing up the odd monster breaker for a joke. One caught her in its maw before the start, shook her like an angry dog savaging a cat for fun, then spat her out, shaken but not completely stirred. She looked a tiny dot out there, thoroughly living up to her name for this trip of "little Shell".
I had to turn my back on this scene, hope she would be ok and run, (as my race had begun as well), and I was somewhat nervous about having to navigate my way by road to the first changeover, with my GPS somewhere out on the water.
I followed other paddlers' cars and arrived at Hanama'ulu Bay where waves were breaking ominously over the wall and the obelisk and joined the line of other paddlers along the beach, waiting anxiously for their partners to arrive.
A new friend of ours, Jules, took the opportunity to introduce me to one of the top surf-skiers on the island who talked me through the route that I should take on my way out in order to avoid being pushed into the "hole of no return".
From Shell
Out on the water I was resolute. Even getting to the start line was proving difficult! I was intensely watching the breaking waves and trying to pick the best line through them. But everywhere I looked there seemed to be another curling monster out to surprise me. I was so determined to get through this first leg so that Charmian would get to paddle. I grabbed as much water as I could each stroke, hoping to propel my way as quickly as possible, and also to show the water that I could be strong and was going to be an equal match today. It was an incredible sight to see the waves mount up in front of the canoe, they just kept getting bigger and bigger and I kept on wondering when then would start to crash down.
All of a sudden I stopped wondering, I looked up to see the wall of water in front of me begin to break. I could see the support boat and starting line just 100m away. Nooooooo.....there was a brief struggle between me and wave as I desperately tried to stay on the canoe...I was so close to the start. But the wave won, and took the canoe with it. I was left clasping my paddle and was dragged along by my leg which was attached by the leg rope to the canoe. Thinking, "this cannot be happening" I did a quick check of the canoe. All ok. Phew! Scrambling aboard, and with the pack already started ahead of me, I decided it was just time to paddle, one stroke at a time and get to Hanama'ulu Bay.
From here it was ok, waves from the ama side crashed in front of me, and sometimes over the canoe, but I stayed on. The wind buffeted my left cheek, but after 15min, I started to get used to the rhythm of the swell and the big gusts coming through. I even managed to catch up and over take two other canoes, which was great, but meant that I no longer had anyone to follow. I finally spotted the two Norfolk Pines acting as my landmark, turned, and followed the swell into the bay. I have never had such a feeling of relief as I did touching the sand and handing over the canoe to Charmian. I had done it. I had survived this first leg, and she would get a chance to be tested herself.
From Charmian
It was with much relief that I saw Shell arrive triumphantly around the bend, surging over the breaking wall of water to hand over the metaphorical baton and the challenge that came with it to me. I headed out against the forceful ocean, pumping through the gap in the surf line. It felt as if I was competing against a bulldozer driving towards me in the opposite direction. It was important to go far out to the turn buoy in order to avoid the "hole of no return", but the swell and the wind were determined to push you that way.
I rounded the buoy to see the lighthouse far away (my point of reference guiding me where to go). It must have saved many lives on this treacherous shore, I thought of the nesting shearwaters at it's base moaning their eerie call and wondered if the monk seals might put in an appearance, but alas no.
The waves were now as large as cathedrals rearing up on my ama side, curling around me and the orange canoe and sometimes testing me by caressing me just that little bit too hard and close and pushing the ama to close on vertical before letting me pass unscathed. It felt at times as if I was a character in a computer game and one had to hope that ones operator had the skill and the fast enough reactions to keep you on track when the largest tests were unleashed.
All was going well until I was shipwrecked by a wave the size of Everest (I kid you not, wait for the video), and got on again with some trepidation in order to sort my leg rope out, wondering whether its sister k2 might be on the horizon, and then.... my seat slid back as I approached the lighthouse rocks making me point my toes like a ballerina in order to steer. Peter had said to hug the right when coming through, but this was easier said than done with ballerina toes and paddle steering. The surf wave that guards the harbour here mounts the walls and sprays the passing cars with water as high as a firework shower. It loomed to my left and centre.
It wasn't until late I saw "the little Shell" a dot of orange to my right. I turned and surfed down to her, this was fun.
From Shell
With leg 1 under my belt, I was feeling more confident and looking forward to getting out on the water again for leg 3 from Kalapaki to Po'ipu. The challenge of this leg was a headwind for the first 25min, the dealing with ama side swell and reflection from the spectacular towering cliffs on your right as you head down the coastline. I was glad of all the training we had done around South Head and North Head at home.
As I waited on the beach, the tales of difficulties from the previous legs started to filter through. There was the OC2 that fell apart on the way out to the start line under a freak wave like the one I had encountered. The ski paddler who had huli'd 15 times. And whilst this was happening I saw a couple of canoes cart wheeling on the shore break and a Pueo being dragged up the beach on its tail with a nasty gash beneath its nose, obviously filled with water and a victim of the race.
With relief and delight I spotted orange on the horizon, and Charmian gleefully surfing down the harbour towards the shore. Aware of the shore break, I didn't celebrate too soon, but waded out further, caught the canoe and spun it around as quickly as I could. We had a close call as the next wave came through, but then we were safe, and I was off out of the harbour.
I started the grind into the wind, taking a wide line around the break wall and then aiming for the furthermost headland. The cliffs to my right were amazing, and taunting at the same time. Like the call of Mordor they tried to lure you to their deadly grasp with the swell perfectly aligned to take you in. I gave in a couple of times, and surfed towards them cautiously, but was conscious of not getting too carried away, turning left to keep my original line.
I was having a great time! It was challenging, but I loved the way the swells lifted you up and carried you forward. It was a bit unnerving to hear the crashing of the waves as a white cap formed either behind or in front of the canoe, but at the same time I was amazed at the sheer size of the swell coming through. I lost control of the canoe a couple of times and scooted up a wave, flipping at the top, but after each huli I became a bit calmer, as I showed myself that I could easily recover and I wasn't in any danger (as long as I kept a long way from the rocks!)
It took about 1hr 45 to complete the 18km leg. I felt steady and strong the whole way, and had some great surfing along the second half. At Po'ipu I stopped to watch the waves break along the reef before I entered the small bay - luckily as the set ahead of me broke the whole way across and would have taken me onto the rocks. Safely on shore, with my race complete, I cheered at Charms and sent her off for the last leg.
It was time to celebrate. You couldn't possibly wipe the smile off my face. In fact, I think I can admit to dancing along the shoreline. It was high fives all round - I wasn't the only one on the beach to be relieved and proud that we'd made it. I felt our common achievement bound us together.
Mike, one of the race organisers, invited me to join his friends at a house not far away as we waited for our paddling partners to tough it out on the ocean. I felt a little guilty sitting in the kitchen overlooking the water, having a beer and snacking on cheese after a decadent hot shower whilst Charmian was out there. But hey, it had been a tough day! It was a great feeling to share stories of freak waves, seemingly endless runs and find that the locals had found it as challenging as I had. We had survived something special.
From Charmian
Waiting at Poipu for the little orange canoe, I saw several wipe outs on the rocks, paddlers coming in and going out were beaten off their boats and for several the race ended there.
Shell came surfing up looking cool as a cucumber from the distance. I was relieved to see her slow and watch one of the freakish guillotine like waves disperse before entering the fairy tale doorway.
The portal was kind to her. She slid off and I hopped on. She looked tired and strained but also euphoric and why not? she had accomplished big time. It was up to me to finish it off and I wasn't going to stuff up our adventure now. Pushing the memory of the last hour of wipeouts to the back of my mind, it was with some trepidation that I went towards the threshold of the break. I waited for a large one to flatten then sprinted through on the calm, Out, Far Out, away from the bubble bath of broken boats and foaming furies, out and into the wind before turning. They must have thought I was mad, the watchers on the shore, heading backwards, but I didn't care because it worked!
I turned around and I was flying, soaring up and down on top of the water, not in it, never stopping, linking the fliers shifting my weight back to avoid the nose dive, or the somersaulting on the big ones, sometimes bracing to the left or right before skidding onto the next..." and I was filled with such delight, as prisoned birds must find in freedom, winging wildly on and on and out of sight...."
My enjoyment came to an abrupt halt though, when having passed the two guys that I had been chasing a sudden squall set in making visibility almost nil. I could no longer see the land or where I was heading. This was frustrating as I had been having such fun. There was nothing to do but wait, and wait...for them to catch me up again. Looming out of the mist I glimpsed the occasional tree which disappeared again as soon as I had seen it. I couldn't believe this was happening so close to the end.
Eventually one of the guys caught me up. A local. "Keep out wide" he said," the biggest breaker is somewhere close to our right, look for the buoy ahead". Off I went again, but looking for a buoy with no visibility and waves the size of ancient monuments was like looking for a needle in a haystack. I had to wait again. This time one of the safety boats came up. They drove towards a smudge a little further out which turned out to be another safety boat guarding the passage to the turn buoy which once rounded, would show me the Catherine wheel of surf to avoid on my right as I faced the headwind again to finish the leg.
A marquee on the shore was sheltering those already finished and Shell was there looking rested on the shore to cheer me in. It was so nice to see her, and know we had finished! Wow what fun, what enormous waves. I so want to do it again, (now I know where to go).
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| We did it! Charms finishes at Salt Ponds |
Some true quotes and facts and bits of trivia picked up at the after party:
· Travis Grant hulied twice during the race during the 3rd leg
· Tom Bartlett said; "that's as tough as it gets".
· The men from Moolloolabar crew broke their boat on the rocks at the third change. (Having also had to withdraw from the Kaiwi Challenge race due to a broken iaku)
· One of the guys we'd done the down winder with last Thursday said it was the biggest conditions that he had seen for this race, to date, and he didn't expect to see it like that again soon.
So we learned heaps, kept us and the boat safe, and had huge amounts of fun.
PD Chicks went surfing in Hawaii
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