All the other guys said, ‘No, it’s NOT an option.’
‘One way or another, I need to go,’ I told them, But I kept hearing that helicopter whining, and I thought, This is crazy!
While this was going on, Michael had said to John, ‘I need to borrow some fuel off you, I’m almost empty.’ There was a fuel crisis in Indonesia at the time, and everyone was very short on it.
Sparkes: Michael filled the helicopter with fuel from the boat and said, ‘I’m going to have to take it for a fly and see how it goes … It should work.’ He flew for about twenty minutes, doing all these manoeuvres. Then he landed and said, ‘Yep, that’s good enough to get us across the strait and into Padang.’
So Michael, the two French doctors and the doctor on the phone had a discussion, and they said, ‘Okay. Let’s snap a surfboard, strap it to his back and get him in the helicopter. We have to move him out of here.’
I’m no doctor, but it didn’t feel right. Then they explained how they were worried about Dazza getting a blood clot and having a stroke, and we realised just how serious things were.
Having strapped him to the board, getting Daz in the helicopter was no easy feat. We would lift him up, try to slide him in and then realise that it wasn’t going to work, so we’d have to start again. We kept moving him, and everyone knew that we shouldn’t be doing that, but it had got to this dire stage, and Dazza said again that he wanted to go, so we persisted. We took the door off the helicopter and finally managed to wedge him in place, just enough to put the door back on. Then Michael got in and discovered that he couldn’t move the joystick because the board was taking up too much room. We pulled the door off again, lifted Daz back out and actually cut a piece of the board off so that Michael would be able to move the stick. In the end, it had taken us a good forty minutes.
It was frustrating for me and everyone else on the boat because we couldn’t go with him. I had my backpack; I was ready to go. We packed a bag for Daz too, and all he kept saying was, ‘Make sure my sunnies go in.’ This from a man who owns his own surf shop.
It was really emotional when they got ready to fly off, and we all stood there thinking, No-one’s with him. No-one’s with him. The plan was for the ambulance to meet the helicopter at a friend of John’s in Padang, who had a house on the water. It was nearly dusk by the time they took off, and there was tension everywhere.
Then it got worse. No sooner had Michael taken off than he got on the radio with John. I think this was planned; he wouldn’t have said it in front of everyone because they would’ve killed him.
‘I can’t land at Padang.’
He didn’t have a licence to fly in Indonesia. He was going to have to put him down somewhere else. He basically had no plan.
I’m pretty sure that this was all the news by the time he took off, not just across the boats, but even the authorities in Padang knew what was happening. Daz hadn’t let me ring Aimee or his dad while he was on the boat, so once they took off I went up top. I wanted to be by myself when I spoke to them.
I rang Aimee first. She didn’t believe it was me. I always used to give Daz and Aimee these random joke phone calls at two o’clock in the morning, so I guess that played into it. But then she must have heard that I was choking up a bit as I was saying, ‘No, Ames, it is me.’
I hadn’t said anything to her but she broke down straightaway. She knew that I wasn’t ringing just for a chat. Her mum was with her and Aimee couldn’t talk, so I had to talk to her mum. I couldn’t tell her exactly what had happened, only that he’d hurt his neck and couldn’t feel his feet, and that he was on a helicopter. I couldn’t even say exactly where he was headed.
Daz had also given me his dad’s work number, so I hung up from Aimee and rang Rossco. I said, ‘I need to speak to Ross.’
‘Oh, he’s busy,’ the woman who answered said.
‘No, no – I’ve really got to talk to him.’
‘No, he’s doing something.’
‘Look, I’m with his son, and he’s had an accident.’
Rossco came to the phone. I’m sure the news was eating him up inside, but he’s got the same tone all the time. ‘Okay. Yep. Okay. This is what we’ve got to do.’
I said, ‘You’ve got to ring Aimee. She’s not handling it very well.’
I came back down and everyone had tears in their eyes. That’s when we all sat down and went, ‘Shit, this has really happened.’
That night was really bad. We were all looking into the pitch-black night and thinking, Dazza’s out there somewhere, and he’s a long way from home.
6
Into the darkness
We took off, and Michael swung around for a couple of passes to make sure the helicopter was handling all right with the borrowed fuel. I had one last glimpse of the village and the crowd watching our progress as we left the Mentawai Islands and set off for Sumatra.
For a surfer, the Mentawais is one of the dream destinations. I’ve been around the world – Hawaii, the Maldives, Fiji, Tahiti, all the main continental breaks – but this chain has the most perfect, consistent waves in one spot. Apart from Hawaii, the birthplace of surfing, which is my favourite place in the world, the Mentawai Islands have the best surfing you can have.
I checked out my surroundings. Even when it had two seats the cockpit would have been pretty much a shell. There were hardly any instruments, no communication devices. All we had was Michael’s yellow Nokia, which seemed about ten years old. As I looked at it, I thought, That little thing’s going to be gold to us; it looks like it’s all we have.
Sitting in the helicopter after lying on my back for a few hours meant that the blood headed downwards, and that, coupled with shock, meant that I was soon struggling to stay awake, to remain conscious. The helicopter was so loud that I couldn’t hear anything, but I was like the kid in the back of the car asking, ‘Are we there yet? Are we there yet?’ It felt like I was shouting, but I couldn’t control my diaphragm to project my voice. I was barely whispering. I kept trying to ask Michael questions, but he just kept his eyes on the windscreen, silent.
The chopper ride continued for what felt like a couple of hours with me fighting to keep my eyes open. In the movies whenever there’s a scene where someone is injured or drugged, they are always being told, ‘Stay awake! Stay awake!’ So I strained to keep my eyes fixed on the view outside.
As I stared out at the ocean, I found myself trying to piece together exactly what had happened in the surf that morning.
I always had to be the first guy out in the water. That’s why I never really drank on the trip, and why I went to bed early. I had been surfing since 5.30 am, having paddled across the channel from where the boat was moored in the semi-darkness. We’d had a meeting the night before, and I hadn’t been that keen to stay at that spot – there wasn’t that much swell – but I thought, Well, if we’re here, I’m not going to complain. I’m in paradise, so I’ve got to make the most of it.
As usual, all the other guys drifted out over the next couple of hours. I paddled up the point a bit, along the edge of this island, and some of the other local guys were there. I surfed for two and a half hours, and it was about time to come in and have some breakfast. It was probably a good one-hundred-metre paddle back across the channel to where all the boats were lined up. I was thinking that by the time I got across I’d be ready for brekkie; then I could get back out.
I was sitting out the back, a lot deeper than most of the guys, just to get away from the crowd a bit. As I was making that decision to go in, Greenie came across on the jet-ski and called out, ‘We’re heading further up the point to where all the bombies are. It’s a bit bigger out there.’ He stopped by me. ‘Do you want to come?’
I thought for a second and then said, ‘Yep. I’m coming!’
I didn’t feel that tired. My record’s an eight-hour straight surf, so I knew I could surf all day without any food or water. I was hungry, but I wanted to get into it. The ski was there, so I could get away w
ith not having to paddle back to the boat. I jumped on the sled on the back and we headed off. A couple of the other guys drifted out and got a tow as well.
They weren’t really bombies, an isolated wave breaking in the middle of nowhere, usually on a reef. Instead of an actual reef shelf for waves to break along and into a channel, where you get that perfect wave shape, these were just random peaks that came in with different swell angles – more like a beach break – so they were more unpredictable. We spotted the swell we wanted from far away. The jet-ski could chase it down with one of us behind on a tow rope; we could surf into the wave without paddling.
As we had done over the past few days, it started off with just three of us up there, but eventually there were around eight people from our boat scattered along the reef, which was about a hundred metres long. We were the only boat with a jet-ski, and it was a bit of a mission to get there if you were to paddle. A couple of guys had been dropped off in a tinny, but because the waves were random we were all waiting our turn to get towed in.
It was good fun, as usual. We’d get whipped in, catch the wave and ride it out while the ski went down and picked up another guy so that they could go back out to the point. I’d caught a couple of waves and was sitting midway with Crusty. We’ve got similar personalities in the water; we’re both hungry for waves. We were catching decent-sized waves while we waiting to get a tow. Off in the distance, I remember these two palm trees without leaves on them, and they became my marking spots.
The point was wedging up good, with two swells coming together to form a peak, like a teepee. We were sitting in the middle of the point and got a good push into the waves. I took off on one that was a solid four foot, if not a bit bigger. I did a couple of turns, and then the wave started to pitch, so I pulled into a pigdog stance. I’m a natural footer, so this meant I had my left foot forward and my back to the wave. I crouched down, grabbed the rail and twisted forward on the board. That’s how most guys pull into the tube on their backhand.
It was a beautiful sight, water enveloping me. I could see down the tunnel to the end. I could see people and boats and blue sky. It’s the best feeling in surfing, to be this close to nature.
A wave can take a different line when it breaks. With a lot of reef breaks the swell bends and comes at you when it hollows out, which makes it a bit easier to get out of or decide that’s what you want to do, but this one bent back out to sea. If I wanted to shoot through it, I had to go around the corner, so I decided to try to beat the lip out of the front of the wave before it closed. I wanted to make the barrel – everybody does – even if I was going to end up in shallow water inside the break. I thought, No, I’ll make this. I turned on my outside rail and tried to head out in front of the wave. (That’s what they call the ‘doggie door’; it’s like a little escape route.)
As I did that, the wave came over and crushed me on the head. (That’s happened to me – and a lot of other people – plenty of times. It’s just not great timing.) Usually it doesn’t hurt, but this time it did. I got hammered, thrown around and rolled like you normally do. After a couple of cartwheels underwater, I came up with a sore neck. It almost felt like whiplash.
I got on my board and started paddling, moving my head around, trying to stretch my neck. One of the other boys saw me and yelled to me, ‘Are you all right?’ We’re always looking out for each other.
I called back, ‘Yeah, yeah. I’ve just jarred my neck.’
I went out the back and sat there with Crusty. We were just talking crap, about how good the conditions were: ‘Not a cloud in the sky … It’s beautiful … We’re in board shorts … Can life get any better?’
We were having heaps of fun and surfing perfect waves, even though I’d wanted to go somewhere else. I couldn’t complain.
After a while set waves started to aim at us. It was Crusty’s turn, and this wave was wedging up really good. I was paddling around him like an overexcited puppy, yelling, ‘You want it? You want it? Are you going? Are you going?’
He looked at me with a scowl that said, Of course I’m friggin’ going! But, me being me, I kept asking the question because I didn’t want to miss out.
If he decided to take the next wave at the last minute, I didn’t want to miss out on this one. So he finally yelled, ‘Yeah, I’m going!’ He paddled hard for it, but the wave backed off at the last minute and he wasn’t able to catch it.
I paddled over and saw that the next wave was wedging up even better. I’d noticed out of the corner of my eye that he was saying something, having been unable to catch the last wave. One side of my brain was thinking, This one’s mine. But the other side was going, Yeah, but Crusty didn’t get that last one. Maybe I should give it to him. Then the first side came back: Nah, fuck him. He wanted that one. It’s not my fault he missed it.
So that battle was going on the whole time I was paddling into position. As I looked down the line, the wave was starting to stand. It looked too good not to go for it.
I began paddling, thinking, Ah, Crusty’s going to friggin’ hate me for this.
The rules on who gets the wave depends on where you’re surfing. At one of my home breaks, where the take-off spot is tiny and there are a lot of people wanting to catch the wave, if everyone paddles over the top of each other it’s chaos. That’s when it can get dangerous and people get hurt. I’ve always been pretty stern in the water. I was brought up to respect the elders and locals who’d been surfing there longer than I had, and I demanded that in the water as well. Many people took me the wrong way, but if there were guys older than me or more local than me, I’d always offer them the wave first. But then we’d have all these grommets out there paddling around the old guys. So I devised a numbering scheme. If you just caught the first wave, you went to the back of the line. I’m one, they’re two, three, four, five, etc. You’ve got to wait for your turn. That way, when a wave comes through, number one gets the first choice and can pass it up so number two will get it, and so on up the line.
With Crusty, the same scheme was in my mind. He’d chosen to take that wave, but he hadn’t got it; now I was the first in line … which I regret to this day. But I don’t believe in karma – karma couldn’t be that cruel.
I took the wave with one eye looking down the line, thinking, How good’s this going to be? The other eye was looking at Crusty. Shit. I’m sorry mate, but there’re plenty of waves anyway.
Even now, I’m guessing he’s still a bit pissed off at me because of it.
I paddled into this perfect peak – the kind of wave that I love, the kind of wave that I grew up on. There was a light breath of wind, the ocean like a mirror … blue sky … blue water … I was looking down the line at this beautiful, steep wall of water. I was so excited; that’s how I’ve been my whole life. It’s almost as though the anticipation of catching a wave is better than actually catching it.
I took off, got to the bottom and prepared to go back up into a top turn. You’re always concentrating on the turns you do while intuiting what’s coming next, so I stayed high. Going into the next section the wave was steepening into one big wall of water, rather than peeling off nicely down the point. During those times, it’s all about quick decision-making, and I had three choices: I could go for it – it was lining up for a nice barrel, but maybe the section was too long and I wouldn’t make it through, in which case I’d end up pulling in and going over. Or I could do a floater over the lip instead of pulling in, ride over the wave and land on the other side. Or I could pull off.
With the first two options, I’d probably end up on the reef anyway, inside the waves. So the only real option was to go off the back of the wave. It was still the morning and there were heaps of waves to be had. In that split second I thought, I’ve got heaps of speed from high-lining so I could get past the next section. I know what I’m going to do: I’m going to bail off the back and see how high I can go.
Lots of people pull off and fly away from their boards – it’s like jumping off a c
liff into water. Usually I just pull off, get back on my board and paddle as quickly as I can, because I want to catch as many waves as possible. Doing a high flick-out like that took up too much time. I’m the sensible brother; the calculating, careful brother.
But this time I thought, Life’s unreal. I’m going to have some fun!
I probably went off more vertically than you normally would, but I wanted to see how high I could get. I flew off the back of the wave. Everything was beautiful … pure happiness … surfing the best waves with my mates … totally in the moment.
Because I was on my backhand, I flicked off with my back to the wave, and because I went straight up, I went over backwards. I couldn’t see where I was going. But this was the last thing I was thinking of, even though Dad always told me, ‘Put your hands above your head, just in case something goes wrong. If you come up after a wave the board can come back at you, so you should always protect your head.’ I also knew how to fall; there are ways you are taught to limit any damage.
I know my hands were above my head because it’s an instinct as strong as walking. The board usually comes with you on the leg rope, and I had a six-foot leggy. The board was flying around below, so I knew I was more than six feet in the air. You see these things a million times, even the professionals are doing it at contests, but I’d lost concentration in that moment of joy. Nothing’s going to happen in that moment …
The board must have come right under me at the last moment and sat on the water. As I came down, my hands went either side of it. I landed vertically and straight into the wooden part of the surfboard called the stringer, which runs the length of the board for strength.
It’s a piece of wood two and a half inches thick in my boards, but only three-sixteenths of an inch wide. I hit this unforgiving object perfectly across the top of my head, which cut me instantly. There was no give in it; it was like landing on concrete. I compressed my neck, dislocating it over my shoulder and back, sending a boiling hot thunderbolt through my body, knocking me out.
Owen and Eleanor Make Things Up Page 4