Surfing the Curl

SURFING THE CURL     

 As I slowly walked into the law office where I worked one day, Mr. Parks exclaimed, “What happened?  What did you run into?  I replied with a grin, “I didn’t run into anything; a loose surfboard ran into my ribs!”  “Ouch”, he said, for he too loved the sport of surfing and would do so early in the morning before he came into the office.

I had learned to surf the longboard in Waikiki where the beach boys taught me how to tandem surf in front of the Moana Hotel with its big Banyan tree and outdoor bar.  What a thrill to be lifted up on Menehune’s shoulders for a ride as I laughed with delight as we headed for shore!  Always flirting with the ladies, this pure Hawaiian kane had a handsome head set on his strong neck with a gold chain that gleamed against his brown chest. My enthusiasm for this exciting sport would become my favorite pursuit as I paddled out for yet another wave one morning.  The sun was sparkling on the ocean with dots of surfers bobbing on the waves waiting for the big one.  The waves were rising; their crests curling and fan shaped; the ocean was intoxicating, inviting.  Looking up, as my board broke the surf, directly in front and bearing down on me was an outrigger canoe full of tourists.  Oh dear!  My heart stopped as I swallowed my alarming thoughts.  I had no time, in a split second should I jump off my board or stay on?  The consequences would be calamitous if I did not jump off; would I be knocked unconscious and drown.  

With a silent prayer I chose the latter deftly managing to maneuver my board between the hull and outrigger with inches to spare surely saving myself from serious injury.  Smiling back at the outrigger and her nervous passengers all I heard were gasps!  Shooting the curl, dropping out from foaming crests, sliding shoreward, I did as often as I could on this visit to our Aunt Elsie’s home in Diamond Head that summer.My sister and I had flown over from our home on Maui and although we were visiting our Aunt for only a few weeks on Oahu, we had already had a memorable time.  We were elated to be able to go for a swim at Waikiki Beach the day I learned to surf. 

“Laurie, you must learn to surf the next time we go back, it’s intoxicating!” I yelled. 

“No, thanks, I’ll leave the surfing for you.  I like to stay closer to shore.  I really enjoyed our picnics on the sand at Waimanalo and Makaha with our Aunties.  The waves were easy to bodysurf at Makaha and that was fun enough for me,” she said with a smile.

I shall never forget the fun playing Bingo at the Country Club,” I said. “Surely, we can’t forget trying to dance with our older cousins at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel or driving up to Tantalus with Doug and Jim to see the City lights,” she exclaimed.  And, don’t forget our hikes to Sacred Falls and to Makapu’u Point Lighthouse.” 

This lighthouse was first built in 1909 when there was no road around the island.  Light keepers had to travel through thorny kiawe growth by foot or horseback and supplies were by mule-drawn wagons.  Though our hike was on a narrow rutted asphalt road, it was still lengthy and strenuous, circling the rocky cliffs to be greeted by a beautiful view of Makapu’u Bay and Waimanalo Valley.“What about watching the gliders at Dillingham Field and seeing the Polo Match,” I countered. 

“It sure has been a marvelous trip, this visit from Maui, and I know we will leave with sad hearts.” All of a sudden our reminiscing on the veranda was interrupted by the ring of the phone.  “Florine is in jail,” exclaimed Aunt Elsie, running out to tell us.  “Not again,” I said.  He lived and worked on my Aunt’s property and loved to go to illegal cockfights to gamble.  Hurriedly, she left to go bail him out of jail once more.  We loved to tease him about it while he insisted he would conquer his habit.  Though I thought this sport was cruel, understandably it was part of his culture and lifestyle and he was such a good man.  Excitedly, we always sought him out to talk story when we visited and share the latest jokes in his halting Filipino dialect. 

It was warm and humid that morning.  A quick swim in the ocean sounded good as we dashed upstairs to change.  As we walked down the smooth stoned walkway, a pale blue cloudless sky and inviting sun-drenched beach awaited us.  Crabs were strewn over the sand like jewelry and birds skimmed over the breakers.  “Poochie”, her engaging boxer, tagged along.  Throwing sticks out into the sea for him to retrieve, diving under the waves, and running back to shake the water all over us was invigorating.   We jumped into the water, floating on buoyant waves, moving our hands like fins and letting the sea rock us.  “Let’s try to swim out to the reef,” I said.  “Oh, no,” Laurie said.  “You’ll get all cut up with the coral.  Don’t you remember when cousin Karen got bit by a moray eel out there?”  “Okay,” I said as I kicked my toes in the sand.  “Besides we have to get back soon to see what happened to Florine.”

Up in the house, Aunt Elsie was alone in the living room when we appeared.  “How frightfully unreasonable Florine is sometimes,” she said, staring into space.  “He was so apologetic and remorseful.  I only hope he has learned his lesson this time.  He is a very good and loyal worker and I do not know what I would do without him.  However, I am tired of bailing him out of jail.”  “Let’s forget about this episode and have a light lunch now,” she said in her gentle voice.  “Tonight the cousins are coming over for a BBQ as you girls will be leaving for home tomorrow morning.”  

The subtle fragrance of ginger wafted over the lanai that evening as we all sat with our drinks watching cousin Fred barbeque steaks.  The women were all dressed in graceful mu’umu’us and the men in aloha shirts and shorts.  This was to be our last night with our cousins and Aunts until next summer.  After dinner and reminiscing was over, we wandered down the lawn to the rock wall facing the ocean.   The dazzling light of the moon above the palm trees reaching to the sea and the quiet slap of the waves on shore that evening left me immobilized.   How could one paint a picture more incredibly beautiful than this.  The nostalgic scene would be cemented forever in my mind for surely I would never experience one exactly like it again.  I wanted to claw my way into the sand and stay on the beach forever.  

Flying back to Maui the next day, slicing through the sky into the mirrored blue, tears fell.  There was only the engines’ murmur to break the silence between my sister and me.  What was she thinking?  Already missing the grins and outstretched hands that greeted us, I settled down into my seat with a smile.                                                                  

by Poppyseed9