Swell (22 page)

‘I can and I’m proud of you. Now hold on.’

Before I had time to ask for instructions, Jason pushed the tail end of the board when the wave rushed up behind me. I felt myself being picked up by the force of the ocean and catapulted towards the beach as fast as if I were careering down an icy mountain on a toboggan. I had control of neither my speed nor my trajectory and my fingertips burrowed into the rails of the board for dear life.

‘Where are the brakes?’ I shrieked.

‘Jump up!’ I heard the group cry in unison when I finally emerged from the agitated ball of foam that had enveloped my ears and found myself on a relatively smooth wave.

‘Jump, Bailey,’ Jason and Chuck hooted.

My laboured motion would not have been classified as a ‘jump’ in any language but before I knew what I was doing, my body was clambering into an upright position, like the progressive illustration of Neanderthal man to the Homo Sapien. My eyes were transfixed on the deck of the board, marvelling at the two feet firmly planted across the wooden stringer that looked very much like my own. Blue Chanel nail varnish and a small mole on my right little toe. They were indeed my feet and they were holding firm.

My support crew cheered, my fingers released their iron grip, my body unravelled and the wave carried me aloft on the shoulders of very gentle white horses – white ponies perhaps - that tended towards a courteous trot rather than an angry gallop. I breathed in the salty mist settling above the waves. My lungs filled with the comforting scent of the ocean and the fresh, clean air pumped through every muscle in my body. I lifted my eyes towards the beach to where Chuck was bouncing up and down punching the sky. My arms unwittingly did the same and the wind whistled past my ears, blowing every cobweb away to the horizon. I was standing. I was standing on a moving surfboard on a wave on the ocean. I was really doing it. I was surfing.

I was hooked.

I caught so many waves I lost count before the sun plunged into the sea and spread across the surface like an egg being cracked into a hot frying pan. I had never felt so exhausted yet I laughed more than I had laughed in months. Any worries that had
clouded my mind vanished in a flash and were washed away in a whirlpool, leaving me feeling free and nothing short of ecstatic.

It was true what they said; only a surfer knows the feeling.

Just before the blanket of darkness fell and as the tide came in, Jason lay on top of Wyatt’s legs and paddled the two of them further out to sea where there were bigger waves forming. Izel described the whole scene to Ben in detail even counting Jason’s paddle strokes. In the distance we could just make out Jason paddling Wyatt into the wave of the day. Their facial expressions were indistinguishable but their chorus of laughter and cheers carried towards us on the late onshore breeze was enough to let us know Wyatt was in his element.

‘You were incredible!’ I shrieked, kissing Wyatt’s dripping wet cheek when he returned to shore in the arms of Jason and Chuck.

‘I am aren’t I?’ he winked.

‘Hey, Bro, she’s too old for you,’ Jason sniggered.

‘Well thanks very much, I’m not that old.’

‘Surfing keeps you young and fit,’ said Wyatt, ‘stick with us and you’ll be young enough for me soon.’

I smiled down at his angelic face and my heart melted. I tried to push the ball of tears down into my throat by swallowing hard but it welled up like a burst water main. The mixture of exhaustion and emotion was too much to contain and a heavy tear dripped down my face, running through the fine layer of salt that had encrusted on my cheek. I blinked and tried to turn away but Ben reached out and touched my arm. He sensed I was crying.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,’ I sniffed.

‘We have that effect,’ Izel shrugged unperturbed.

‘Don’t feel sorry for us, Ma’am,’ Ben said softly. ‘Sure I still see clouds but today the clouds are bright. Today life is swell.’

‘Sure is,’ Wyatt beamed, ‘and we’re stoked you shared it with us.’

‘I’m
stoked
too,’ I replied, ‘thank you for showing me what surfing is all about.’

When I said surfing, what I really meant was living.

CHAPTER THIRTY

The following morning I came down to breakfast puffy-eyed but gleeful in the knowledge I had written some of my best work for years. Energised by the experience of surfing with Wyatt, Izel and Ben and inspired by seeing Jason give his time freely to such a worthy cause, I had stayed awake until four in the morning typing like a woman possessed. Still buzzing from the consumption of far too much coffee in the early hours, I bounced into the breakfast room and up to the table where Oli had joined Jason, Chuck, Rory and Ruby.

The waitresses were wiggling around Jason like worms after a rainfall on freshly dug soil. Jason’s glass was full, I noticed, while the others contained nothing but the sticky remnants of orange pith.

‘Morning everybody.’

‘G’day, surfer girl,’ Rory and Ruby chirped yet despite their friendly smiles I sensed the mood was sombre.

I took a seat between Chuck and Ruby.

‘What’s happened?’

‘Earthquake,’ said Ruby, while Oli growled - ‘Tsunami’.

Jason shook his head.

‘It’s terrible.’

Chuck, in his usual avalanche of words exclaimed - ‘The motherfuckin’ ocean has almost sunk the Maldives, dude, it’s bad, you know what I’m sayin’?’

My hands stopped mid-air as I was tearing open a hot croissant. Crumbs of flaky pastry floated down into my lap.

‘Oh my goodness, when did this happen?’

‘Last night,’ said Rory. ‘Seems there was an earthquake off Indo that sent tsunamis to the Maldives and Sri Lanka. Some islands are underwater although it’s not like the one that smashed Sri Lanka in 2004.’

‘That’s terrible news.’

‘Sure is. The Maldives are so low lying they can’t take surges like that.’

‘They’ll be gone one day the poor bastards,’ said Chuck philosophically.

‘Well that’s a comforting thought.’

I put down the croissant and looked at Jason.

‘So what does that mean for you guys?’

‘No Maldives comp,’ he shrugged. ‘It’s too dangerous because it could happen again.’

He stopped speaking and sat back while a brunette re-filled his coffee cup. Her eyelids fluttered so fast I thought she might be having some kind of fit.

‘Thanks, Danni.’

He already knew her name. I bristled and then kicked myself for even caring.

‘The fault lines could be unsteady so the surfing authorities won’t send us into the area.’

‘Will they go elsewhere?’

‘Doesn’t sound like it. I think they might just cancel the comp and give us a break until France, so the title will be decided on nine instead of ten contests.’

I sipped yet more coffee while Oli and Jason discussed the benefits and disadvantages of not having a contest in the Maldives. Apparently Cain had had a good run of luck in the Maldivian reefs over the past couple of years because the contest was held at a consistent left-hander off the island of Lohifushi, which favoured Cain’s goofy-foot surfing. Taking the contest out of the tour was effectively removing one of Cain’s strongest performances, which could only be positive for Jason’s assault on the title.

‘It’s a bit of a bummer. I really wanted to check it out for our honeymoon,’ Ruby sighed.

‘The way these tsunamis keep happening the Maldives might not be around for your honeymoon for real,’ said Chuck, raising his eyebrows dramatically.

‘The poor locals,’ said Ruby. ‘I wish we could go there and help clean up.’

‘Take a mop and bucket and a fucking big sponge,’ Oli chortled.

‘Turn that up. Can you turn the TV up, Danni?’ Jason called out, pointing up at the images of the tsunami-hit region on the television in the breakfast room.

If Danni had moved any faster I would have expected her to burst into flames and vanish like the DeLorian in
Back To The Future
. We watched the news report while Chuck took a telephone call from the television network who wanted Jason to appear to discuss the after-effects of tsunamis on the ocean. I grabbed a pen and paper and began to note down any facts I might need about the event. I was somewhat embarrassed by my own lack of knowledge on the subject while everyone else around the table discussed the causes and facts and figures as fluently as if it was their chosen subject on a quiz show.

The television images that had begun to filter through from the tsunami zones filled me with dismay for the people in the worst affected areas and with awe at the brute
force of the Indian Ocean. A grainy film taken on a mobile phone by the shaky hand of a tourist in the Maldives captured the moment the wave washed ashore. I had been expecting the sort of mythical tidal wave I had seen in films, peaking in a one hundred foot crest above the buildings. Instead the tsunami was a dramatic surge of water wider than the island. It rushed onto land with the speed of an avalanche, consuming all in its path. The tourist, who was thankfully filming from the relative safety of a tall building, shrieked in horror when he saw cars and people being picked up and carried away in the flood.

‘He’ll be telling that story till he dies,’ said Jason.

Chuck handed the phone to Jason. Moments later we saw his name and a still photo of the man sitting at our table appear on the television screen. Jason discussed the current tsunami and the formation of waves with the newscaster while behind him Danni’s eyelids wafted a breeze across the room.

‘Contrary to public opinion, the kind of waves we ride are not created by wind blowing on the ocean but by weather systems,’ I heard Jason say. ‘We chase swells that we can predict in short by looking at where the low and high pressure systems are and where the swell will hit. The wind is a factor because offshore winds smooth out the ride. The earthquake, though, created this tsunami. The tectonic plates shifted under the ocean and if you imagine one drops or one rises, that creates a difference in water levels in the ocean and creates this kind of surge that devastates when it hits land.’

‘It’s a seismic sea wave,’ Rory whispered to me while I continued to take notes. ‘The tsunami is really long so when the front of the surge hits shallow water, the back,
which can be kilometres behind, keeps racing forwards until it all piles on top of itself like a train derailing.’

‘It’s so fast,’ I gasped, pressing the nib of my pen into the paper as I watched in horror.

‘Too right. They can travel at like five hundred miles an hour. You can’t outrun that thing.’

The television network continued to flash up pictures and film of the aftermath of the tsunami and the reported death toll rose like the water level. It became apparent that the devastation would not reach that of the Sri Lankan tsunami that had killed tens of thousands but neither was there much in the way of good news to report.

I had a sudden thought and my hand shot up to my mouth.

‘Oh my God, we could have been there. One more week and we would have been.’

‘I know,’ Chuck snorted, ‘how rad would that have been huh?’

‘Thanks, Bill, and I hope we can all coordinate a fast and efficient response to this disaster. I am pledging a substantial sum to go towards the rescue effort and I hope other people listening who are in a position to do so will do the same,’ Jason concluded, bringing his interview to a close.

We all sat quietly and drank our coffee knowing that the inhabitants of the Indian Ocean islands would be searching for loved ones and trying to recover from the life-changing assault by the forces of nature. It hit me how strange it was that Jason and Rory could not go to work because an earthquake and subsequent tsunami had toyed with their office and made it off limits, which was not something I had ever had to factor into my
working life before. It was also desperately ironic to think how the day before I had witnessed the power of the ocean in bringing pleasure and meaning to peoples’ lives only to see its power of destruction less than twenty-four hours later. One thing was certain, no matter how much we got to know and love the ocean, it was always in charge.

‘Are you going to eat that French donut?’ asked Chuck, breaking the silence that had engulfed us like a fog.

‘French donut? You mean this croissant? Honestly, Chuck, don’t let the French hear you calling their patisserie delicacy a donut when we get to Hossegor,’ I said with a smirk, passing him the plate with the uneaten croissant.

Jason excused himself from the table and it was only five minutes later that I realised Danni had also mysteriously disappeared from the breakfast room.

‘Our waitress has done a disappearing act,’ I huffed.

Chuck leaned closer to me while munching on the croissant.

‘Don’t worry, B, she won’t be
doing
Jason. She might try but she’s not his type you know what I’m sayin’?’

I blushed when I saw Rory and Ruby exchange knowing glances.

‘I’m not worried,’ I said hotly, ‘I just want to get some work done with him today that’s all. While we have some spare time.’

‘Yeah yeah sure.’

Chuck beamed and shoved the remaining pastry into his mouth.

Oli slapped the tabletop.

‘Guess I better get back to the office,’ he announced. ‘I’ll make arrangements for France. We may as well get over there early and Jason can do some promos. Plus there’s a whole lotta French totty to get through.’

Ruby tutted.

Oli stood up and stretched his stubby arms above his head. His belly jutted out from under his hoodie like that of a woman in her third trimester of pregnancy.

Ruby and I exchanged looks of disgust.

You want him
, I mouthed childishly.

You’ve already had him
, she mouthed back.

We stifled our sniggers and forced ourselves to look serious.

‘Hey cheer up folks it’s not all bad news,’ Oli said with a sniff while one hand rubbed the rug of greying hair above his waistband, ‘the ground shift from the earthquake might shake up the Indo reefs and make somewhere like Nias fucking amazing to surf. We could get radical new waves from this.’