Kapiolani Community College
Diamond Journal 2003Fall

Ending Up More like Blue Crushed
Jennifer Hernandez

It was my first day out to the beach in almost one year. My boss had given me the prized Aloha Friday off. Wanting to get back into the Aloha spirit of fun in the sun, I made arrangements to meet with my sister’s boyfriend at two o’ clock at at a popular place at Ala Moana beach, called Concessions, so he could teach me how to surf. I thought learning how to surf would be a piece of cake and that being out in the open ocean would be a pleasant way to get some fresh air.

It was a beautiful day, perfect for going to the beach. The sun was shining at its full after noon peak and its rays instantly warmed my face. There was not a cloud in the crystal clear azure sky. As I walked down the white pavement of Ala Moana Beach Park, a light breeze whispered through the air. The breeze gently rustled the green leaves of the nearby trees and picked up little grains of sand that nicked my bare feet. The ocean was blue and calm. Occasionally, a roll of white water would break on the reef. A mirror-like glare reflected off the white sand of the beach. Parents and children played together in the sand and gentle water. Every inch of the beach was covered with tourists baking in the sun. After walking for twenty minutes, I spotted my sister’s boyfriend.

When I arrived at the second concession stand, I noticed him standing next to the awkwardly constructed, embarrassingly bright orange lifeguard tower. He was wearing dark blue surf shorts printed with light blue hibiscus flowers. The shorts seemed almost electric in contrast to his dark brown burnt skin, obviously caused by extensive sun exposure.

“Hi, Jared,” I said, giving him a hug. It was hard for me to believe that he was a lifeguard in training. His jet-black head of hair only came up to my chin.

“Are you ready to go in?” he asked.

“Ya, let’s go,” I replied with energy.

Jared picked his matching blue surfboard off the sand and dusted off the remaining granules.

“My dad took my longboard, so I had to bring the next longest board I had.” While Jared looked at the surfboard, his eyes seemed to recall memories of good waves he had ridden. “It’s my favorite board in the world. It’s a little smaller than what beginners would ride, but the conditions look mellow. I think you can handle it.”

As I stood next to the board, I noticed it was definitely short. The board was practically the same height and width as my thin body. I grabbed the board he held out to me and confidently put it under my right arm. “Hey, where’s your board?” I asked.

“My car could only fit one board, so I’m just gonna swim next to you,” he told me. “I got my fins, so I’ll be okay.” He raised a pair of black fins with yellow tips up in the air.

We boldly walked side by side towards the ocean. Before we stepped into the water, he paused and checked out the waves from afar one last time.

“You know, the surf report said that there might be occasional five foot waves, just to let you know, but I’ll be right by you so no need worry,” Jared reassured me.

“Whatever you say,” I replied. I was absolutely clueless as to what five-foot waves looked like.

Jared leaped into the water without hesitation. I, on the other hand, not having been to the beach in a while, gingerly stepped in and slowly immersed myself in the surprisingly cold water. Then I balanced my body on top of the board.

We began the long paddle out to sea. I was really confident in my paddling abilities and proud that I could maintain good balance on the board. One arm and then the other. Doing the strokes felt like second nature to me. Even Jared commented that I was doing well and making good time.

Jared swam ahead of me, and I followed his trail. A wall of reef barricaded our path. He directed me towards two boulders in the middle of the ocean. Amazingly, a hidden clear patch of water could be seen amidst the black rock-like coral and seaweed.

“This is the sandy spot; we can walk here,” he said. “You need to get off the board and carry it.” Apparently this was a path familiar to regulars.

The once completely clear sky began to form a dark gray ominous cloud that made a flaw in the sky’s appearance. We anxiously ran across the sand to join the other surfers riding waves.

Once we came to the edge of the reef, it was back on the surfboard and back to paddling. Suddenly, the paddling became a little more strenuous. The current pulled me in every direction except for the one I wanted to go in. I put a lot of strength into my paddling, but it never got me past a mass of rocks that formed a lookout point to the far left.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m not moving!” I complained to Jared.

“You are, you’re doing good,” he said encouragingly.

Finally, we got to Jared’s intended destination. It was a surf spot called “Second Holes.” The once friendly inviting waves began to change their attitude. They appeared to be gentle from afar on the shore, but were really ravenous up close. Big waves began to dodge into me and flip the board out from under me. Quickly, noticing my struggle, Jared taught me a technique called the duck dive. He told me I had to push the board down into the water as the wave approached, then use my upper body to keep the board down under until the wave passed. A lot waves pounded on top of me before I caught on to the idea.

One after another, crazy waves galloped by, never allowing me to tame one to ride. Gray blue water with white fangs kept rolling toward us. Out of nowhere, we heard a vague yell from an anonymous voice warning, “Look out!” A random surfer had lost his surfboard. The board flew in the air, landing nose first into the water, nearly missing another surfer. The waves were out of control. To avoid being trapped by a set of thems, Jared swam to a secluded spot with no activity. This left me alone with no moral support to contend with the waves.

Surfers began to rush past me, cheering each other on as they successfully caught waves. Jared waved his arms to me, and I began to make my way over towards him. Upon making my way toward Jared, I started to drift into a rough zone inhabited by surfers. Instantly, I was trapped between a passing wave and an oncoming surfer, who was about three feet away from having my teeth in his board. The surfer rapidly halted his ride as he jumped off his board.

Jared saw my distress and swam as fast as he could to come to my rescue. He grabbed hold of the board with his left hand and steered me into the direction of his discovered safety zone. I began to get frustrated with the paddling and turned the board to the side to utilize my legs for power instead of my arms. A familiar noise of rushing water at full speed paralyzed me. Boom! Before I could see what hit me, I was picked up by a powerful wave and thrown off the board. Gobbled up by the wave, I drifted underneath the water for a few seconds, becoming tangled with the smooth rubber leash. I was pulled every which way by the board on the surface. I was then spit out by the wave and quickly scrambled to secure myself back on the board. Jared pulled the board and me back to him and told me to get ready to catch a wave.

“Okay, stop right here. This one looks good,” he instructed.

“Okay, okay, I’m ready,” I informed him.

Jared began to yell, “Paddle, paddle, paddle!”

I paddled as fast and as hard as my toothpick-like arms permitted me, but was still not advanced enough in position to be picked up by the wave.

Once again Jared called out, “Paddle, paddle, paddle!” as if simply saying those three simple words would somehow magically get me on the wave. In an act of desperation, Jared got behind the board and kicked the back of it, which moved me into position on the wave.

“I’m on it!” I cried ecstatically.
Although this wave was a lot smaller than its previous family members, the force and speed of this miniature wave was frightening. Now was my long-awaited chance to finally stand up on the board. I tried my hardest to get off my stomach, but to no avail. Each time I would get my knee up the wave would thrust me forward causing my head to hit the board. I gave up the idea of standing up and enjoyed the wave for what it was worth. To me, the wave felt like it was going a hundred miles an hour. I rode the wave in until it dissolved under me.

Since I had ridden the wave beyond surfing territory, no human beings were around me. Isolated, my only companion was the surfboard under me. A blanket of white foam covered the water. I began the unpleasant and arduous journey of paddling back out. That little wave I caught had deceived me into thinking that I was going to catch more. An eerie silence began to settle, and I could not hear the thunder of the waves. That was the calm before the storm.

At that moment the sky grew a shade darker, and the heavy odor of seaweed and fish grew stronger. A faint cry of churning water could be heard. Thinking the waves could smell fear, I put on a brave front to the waves. I assumed that I had fooled the waves, so I took my time in finding Jared. But not a second later, the waves began to roar ferociously and instantly multiply. The sky grew heavy with rain clouds, and bead-like drops fell from the sky. Salty water from waves crashing into each other was spraying all over the place, stinging my eyes. To stop the stinging sensation in my eyes, I mistakenly closed them for half a second. Suddenly, I was pounded by a wave.

While I was going under the water, my mouth was half open, allowing the burning ocean water to enter my mouth and fill my throat. Choking and coughing on the water, I screamed out for Jared. It was pointless, however, because of the obstreperous water. Desperate to find him, I pummeled my body forward. I paddled hard, drawing whatever strength I had from my toes and duck diving into the waves. Magnetically we spotted each other in the pool of white wash. Jared grasped the board firmly with both hands.

“It’s getting a little rough out here,” I stated.

“I think we better go back in,” Jared responded.

“Ya, let’s go. I’m getting tired,” I said weakly.

Jared said that he was too, so we turned around to make the arduous journey back.

Everything was safe and sound for a moment until an enormous wave, fiercer than all its predecessors, raised itself up from the depths of the ocean. I watched the wave rise up over me in slow motion and watched it slowly collapse. Smack! It crashed right on top of me, burying me downwards to the sand and rocks below. Instinctively, I clawed and scratched the water and fought my way to the top. As I emerged to the surface, I inhaled gulps of air into my lungs. It was a definite duel between the ocean and me. I pushed my body up out of the water and aggressively grabbed hold of the surfboard. Jared was circling nearby and used a wave to propel himself to me. We looked at each other without saying a word and began to paddle back to the shore.

The laborious activity of fighting to survive against the waves physically drained my body. I paddled and paddled, but never budged. Jared tried to motivate me to press on by lying that I was making good progress. A ton of salt water filled my stomach, making me extremely nauseated. My contacts were blazing from the salt water. Physically, I could not make it back to shore, and it was impossible for me to go any further. Hoping that the current would drift me back to shore, I stopped paddling. The vibration of the ocean lightly tossed the surfboard up and down.

Realizing my condition, Jared swam to my side and instructed me to remove the leash from my ankle. The crackle of the Velcro was a reassuring sound to me. No longer would I be shackled to a surfboard. He put the leash on his left ankle and began to tug me back to shore. A pounding headache began to beat in my head, and my stomach became unsettled. I put my head down on top of the board and just lay still while Jared pulled me back to civilization. Feeling sorry for Jared’s hard work, I participated in the homecoming by kicking my feet in the water to help propel him faster.

Hours seemed to pass by before we reached the shore. All we could do was lie dead in the sand. We could have stayed like that for days, but the encroaching darkness prompted us to get off the beach.

Unlike the beginning of the day, when I had gripped the board securely under my arm with confidence, this time I merely held it up enough to keep it from dragging on the ground. Both of us showered off the sticky crystals of salt and endless sand. The fresh water was truly refreshing. I realized while standing under the showerhead that it was the only water I liked to be under.

After we dried off and changed into dry, warm clothes, we sat on the wall and gazed out at the now black ocean illuminated only by the orange glow of the bathrooms across the street. We sat on the wall silently, enduring the chilly night winds and listening to the deceptive hiss of the ocean. In my mind I reviewed the days often too close close calls. My mouth tasted like I had poured an entire canister of Morton’s salt into it and brought on a dizzying nausea. An intense muscle pain began to develop in my neck, arms, and lower back. My eyes burned with a blinding sensation. A light purplish bruise started to surface on my right knee, but I was thankful for all the pain and suffering I felt at that moment. I was thankful that I had survived this round with ocean and thankful that I still had my five senses to let me feel each symptom. It was amazing that I was still alive.

“Pretty rough for your first time surfing, Jen,” blatantly interrupted Jared.

“Yes, it was,” I told him. I assumed that he thought I would never want to surf again. But secretly in my mind, I could hardly wait for the next chance to go out and try to catch a wave.