Storm? What Storm?

So it’s winter in San Diego, and after the sunrise workouts in 50 degree water, what else would a handful of ocean paddlers do to ease their pain but take a trip to Oahu for a four-day skills clinic in the surf?
To be fair, even Hawaii has a winter. this is why the big surf competitions are held there in winter on the islands’ north shores. And since we planned to spend most of our time in the ocean, where the temperature was warmer than the air, no problem. Just bring a rain coat.

I keep a note on my desk with a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt: “Do one thing every day that scares you.” Not hard for me to accomplish since I’m claustrophobic and afraid of heights. I ride the local wooden roller coaster once a year on my birthday to set a personal tone: everything appears relatively mild after that. And that’s why I said yes when a group of ocean paddler friends invited me to join them on this excursion. Never mind I don’t paddle outrigger canoes, only surfskis, and we were headed to do a surf clinic in Hawaii in winter. This is what E.R. had in mind, I’m sure.

On our first day, Suzanne arrived on her bicycle, smiling brighter that the sun, happy to be staying with her sister a few blocks away. Clouds hung low over the mountain tops. Greens in the forests flowed into cultivated sugar cane green fields and down into a silty green-brown river that muddied the layers of emerald-turquoise-sapphire green water curling up onto the pink-brown sandy beach.

We followed our guide/coach Jim Foti like a string of ducklings, zig-zagging to avoid the reef. After surfing the small waves beside Flat Island and paddling some distance, we retreated to lunch, then watching the videos taken that morning, to critique our stroke techniques.

After having dinner with Suzanne’s family and some respected paddling elders, the trip could have ended there, but it had only just begun.

Each morning was announced by red-headed birds wearing straw conical hats with radical feather tufts jutting backwards.

Day 2: Suzanne’s birthday, we switched canoes and found a different surf break. In the calm, shallow Mokapu Channel we talked about balance and flying the ama, then set out to challenge the secondary stability of our new canoes. I was pleasantly surprised I’d chosen a canoe that practically surfed itself and liked to keep the ama up! Great day for me. The sun came out, the waters turned from greens to blues. Jim paddled the two-man so we took turns paddling in the surf with him and flying the ama. Turtles observed, certainly smiling, from open water. After Jim paddled alongside, re-adjusted the rigging on my canoe it was a different boat entirely. I liked it even better, but who knew? Takes a pro, which I certainly am not, and he is.

We celebrated by going into town for lunch at Lanikai Juice before going back out into the surf and repeating the fun of the morning. Though I got some good rides on big waves, this new canoe was heavier, designed totally differently, and I had trouble flying the ama. She just wanted to go straight.

My night to cook: veggie stir-fry with ginger and tofu, meant someone else was mixing the drinks and we all watched the Olympics on the giant t.v. Though I made some vegetarian converts, the shopper still cleaned out the local deli of the poke in their display.

Day 3: Jumping into the back of a pick up, we headed to the next beach to launch two four-man canoes from their beds of sand among the tarot vines at Lanikai Beach. The sand was like plaster, stuck to our feet, and the water a clear turquoise. Air and water were the same temperature, a mild 70. Jim navigated us to the exact spot where a private plane was resting against a reef some 25’ deep. We again navigated the reef in jagged lines till we arrived at the small islands known as The Mokes. We chose right. Jim was so excited about the conditions he borrowed a phone to call his friends and alert them.

A passel of tourists in sit-on-top kayaks flooded the beach and settled in to watch us. Fortunately both Karen and I brought GoPro cameras so I was able to record the surfing from all directions. I only steer once in a while, usually during a practice, so I gave major props to Jim for steering us in steep waves in small boats. He’d grown up there, doing just that nearly every day, he said, and the fact he’s still there doing it, is a testament to just how awesome surfing the four-man canoes can be.

Rain, rinse, store canoes. So nice to be traveling with no-maintenance women. No one leaves till all the work is done. No one leaves for the afternoon hike till everyone’s had at least one beer. I admit to being a bit sore after three straight days. Of course my roomie, Wendy, a serious veteran paddler, had the right oils and ointments for those aches. That’s why she’s always smiling.

It poured all night. Alarms blared warnings calling for evacuations to high ground. It was still raining as we rigged the canoes. Locals from Kailua Canoe Club headed out for a 12-mile workout up and back to Rabbit Island. Jim shook his head, and directed us to the point in the other direction, straight into the wind, so we could ride swells back to the beach rather than take the swell on our ama side for miles, then slog back. As we carried our canoes to the water, the rain ceased. “Slash,” a local paddler and artist waited to finish painting one of the canoes between downpours.

I ended up with the tippier of the canoes that day. Swells were steeper and crossed up. Wind was strong and shifting. The troughs were narrow between swells, making it easy to nose-dive if you didn’t plan your surfline. Most of the crew headed back at an angle to the beach, but Suzanne and I just rode the swells straight back to the beach. She reminded me to relax and stop paddling once I was on a wave; that made all the difference. Of course then she and I had to paddle parallel to the shore several miles to get back to Flat Island and surf with the gang. Wind would get under my ama, threatening to flip me over, it felt like every minute. It was an important lesson in boat handling in the choppy surf; kinda why we came. Thanks Eleanor.

Rain, rinse, store canoes the final time. Just as we said our farewells, admiring Slash’s artwork, it began to rain hard.

We dashed off to showers, beers, the Olympics, and the local bar, Buzz’s, with everyone else stuck in low ground. As we posted photos of ourselves at Buzz’s on Facebook, local paddlers responded with “You’re HERE?! I’ll be right over!” until we had added four or five more people… until the bartender cut us off.

On our final morning, Lisa brought back a photo of a beautiful sunrise from her walk on the beach before we all drove to the North Shore for souvenirs, meeting Vicky at the airport and sadly waving goodbye.