As if to punctuate this moment of clarity, another unseen wave smashed against the reef and a cascade of sound exploded through the night like a bomb.
The only chance they had of getting across the reef was by catching a wave on the ten-foot board and surfing it tandem. This meant first taking the boat through no man’s land, the only way to get to the take-off zone. Then they’d ditch the boat and surf across the reef to the calm deepwater channel on the other side. From there it’d be an easy paddle to the underwater cave. It sounded good in theory, but the execution would be another matter entirely.
He leaned toward Erina and yelled, “Steer the boat while I get the spotlight up.”
She turned her head. “What’s the plan?”
When he told her, it sounded even more outrageous than it had in his head.
“I’ve always wanted to ride tandem,” she said.
“This’ll be your chance.”
“Anything else I should know?”
“When we abandon the boat, we’ll leave the light on so they’ll think we’ve capsized and drowned. What do you reckon?”
She didn’t answer straightaway, appearing to be mulling over his words.
“That might just work,” she said.
—
In the lull between sets Carter and Erina swapped places. If anything, she handled a boat better than he did. But the surf was his sacred home and he’d be calling the shots.
He grabbed the spotlight and planted his feet wide on the vibrating deck, bending his knees and swaying in time with the violent motion of the boat, performing an unconscious dance with the elements raging around them.
He listened to the waves, trying to hear their pattern, so he could pick the best one in the set to catch and hold off turning on the spotlight for as long as possible.
They seemed to come in sets of four. The sound of the waves breaking on the reef told him that the first two in each set were shutting down viciously on the coral and should be avoided at all costs.
The third hit the reef at a good angle and broke evenly. The gusting wind blew offshore, which meant it’d hold the face up and give them a decent shot at riding the wave all the way across the reef.
Still, surfing this break on a ten-foot malibu tandem in the dark was a huge ask. Once the helicopter pilot spotted the light, they’d have only a few minutes to negotiate the boat through no man’s land, get to the take-off zone on the other side and catch the right wave. They’d only get one shot.
But despite the grim odds, turning back was out of the question.
Carter flicked the plastic switch on the spotlight.
An arc of bright light lit up the take-off zone, leaving them exposed and vulnerable and illuminating an angry line of swell advancing toward the reef. He would watch this set rolling in, testing his theory.
The first wave, the height of a one-storey building, struck the reef about a hundred and thirty feet ahead of them at a sixty-degree angle.
The instant it hit the shallow water, the gnarly face jacked up, doubled its size and smashed onto the reef, creating an unrideable mass of boiling foam.
Carter glanced over his shoulder. The approaching helicopter still hadn’t rounded the headland.
The second huge wave closed out on the reef, unrideable.
The third charged toward the reef, a two-storey boomer.
As he’d suspected, it struck the reef at a more acute angle than the others, had more water under it, and broke forming a perfect A frame. Bubbling white water peeled across the steep face in both directions.
One side broke to the left, toward their boat. The other passed over the reef toward the safety of the channel.
The fourth wave was smaller and closed out on the reef, leaving no face to ride.
The third wave in the set was the one to go for.
He turned the spotlight off and looked over his shoulder again.
The lights of the helicopter glowed near the headland.
“Erina,” he yelled. “I need you to man the spotlight. When I give the signal, shine it in the same spot I just did.”
“Then what?”
“We find the take-off zone and catch us a wave.”
17
Carter grabbed the vibrating throttle. He needed to navigate the boat through no man’s land and the first two breaking waves of the set to reach the take-off point without being swamped and catch the third. It’d all come down to timing and a fair bit of luck.
He counted in his head as another set rolled in, listening as it broke onto the reef, and yelled, “We take the boat into no man’s land after the next wave.”
Erina shouted to be heard above the wind and rain. “Just give the signal and I’ll shed some light.”
The fourth and last wave of the set smashed against the reef.
Carter dropped his arm. Erina hit the switch and the spotlight came to life, throwing dazzling light across the angry ocean.
He twisted the throttle and followed the light, accelerating into the wild turbulence of no man’s land. As the water became shallower, the breaking waves would pack ten times the punch of those forming in the deeper water where they were now.
Erina stood firm in the center of the boat, her weight spread evenly and her knees bent at a slight angle, shining the spotlight on a wall of water towering toward them.
He lined up the bow at an acute angle to the steep face and accelerated. They’d need every bit of momentum they could muster to climb up and crash through the curling lip.
Erina grabbed a rope attached to the deck with her free hand to give her purchase and held tight, preparing herself for the rough ride to come.
The bow smacked into the arching face, which lifted them at a sharp angle. The outboard screamed and shook. The hull shuddered.
Erina maintained her position, shining the spotlight up the face of the wave and into the sky.
The craft lurched sideways.
Carter rotated the throttle to maximum, whipping the throbbing outboard motor back and forth to correct the boat’s angle and generate more speed.
They smacked into the lip at close to perpendicular.
For a moment they hung in midair before crashing down the other side and ploughing into the trough below.
The deck vibrated. Sheets of white water poured over the sides. The sudden impact threw Erina forward into the gunnels, jolting the spotlight from her grip. It fell facedown on the boat’s deck.
She regathered her balance, dived to her left and grabbed the fallen light. Rolling onto her back, she shone it on the fast-approaching second wave of the set. It was gathering height as it rolled toward the reef.
The excess water washed over the deck, making it harder to generate the forward thrust they needed to crash through the next wave.
Carter grabbed a plastic ice-cream container attached to a rope with his left hand and started bailing. With his right he angled the boat away from the break.
Above the crashing of breaking waves, the dull roar of the helicopter’s engine attracted his attention. He turned and saw its swaying spotlight heading in their direction. It’d only be a matter of seconds before they locked the beam onto them.
He turned back to face the wave and glared at the monster heading straight for them.
“Erina,” he shouted, “kill the spotlight.”
“What?”
“Shut it down, now!”
She hesitated, then turned it off, plunging them into a dark void.
He couldn’t see the oncoming wave, but now that he had an intuitive read on the break, he didn’t need to.
Using both hands, he whipped down hard on the accelerator and pulled the engine toward him.
The motor screamed like a banshee. The bow lurched to the right. Water sloshed around the deck.
He sensed the second wave hovering above, rearing its head back, preparing to strike.
He twisted the throttle round full and aimed straight for it.
The bow blasted into the soli
d wall of water.
They started climbing at a steep angle.
The snarling lip crashed over them.
Water flooded over the gunnels and washed over the stern, slowing their momentum to a crawl.
He swung the engine back and forth in an effort to generate more speed.
They were barely inching ahead. Any second, the weight of water in the stern would drag them back down the face and into oblivion.
Unless he took drastic action, they were history.
In a desperate bid to shift momentum, he let go of the engine and threw himself forward to the bow, hoping the movement of weight would propel them through the wave, like walking to the nose of a longboard.
The boat teetered at the critical point. He screamed to Erina, “Get to the bow, now!”
She threw herself forward and grabbed hold of the bow, creating the momentum needed to push them through the lip.
The boat crashed down the other side of the wave into the deep trough. It was now two-thirds full of water. One more hit would sink them.
Carter scrambled to the stern and seized the throttle. He pointed the bow back toward the headland, where they had come from and where the helicopter now hovered, then twisted the throttle to idle and tied off the engine.
Erina was already on her feet, lashing the spotlight to the seat so that it pointed skyward.
They didn’t need to speak.
He reached forward, untied the surfboard and held it under his right arm.
She switched on the light.
He put the engine into gear and twisted the accelerator to one-third throttle.
The waterlogged boat started to gather speed.
They positioned themselves on the port side of the boat with one foot on the gunnel.
“Ready for a dip?” he asked.
“After you.”
He jumped into the choppy water. Erina followed a second later. He held the tail of the board while she climbed onto it. He turned his head and watched the boat chug away from them.
The spotlight from the approaching helicopter danced over the water, seeking them out.
18
Carter pulled himself onto the board after Erina with his daypack strapped tight to his back. They both lay facedown, his chest arched over her smooth back and his legs pressed against hers.
In a few fleeting seconds the third wave in the set would hit shallow water, jack up and launch forward, transforming the wind-blown rolling face into a steep and unforgiving precipice the size of a two-storey building.
The helicopter was moving away from them, making a beeline for the sinking boat heading back toward the headland, drawn by its spotlight bobbing up and down.
The decoy would give them enough time to get into position and make the take-off, but there’d be no second chances.
Erina remained perfectly still so as not to throw off the balance of the board, making his job a lot easier.
He needed to find the sweet spot, the one point on the face of the wave where they could take off safely at the right angle. To have any chance of surfing across the reef, he needed to position the board so they’d cut across the smooth face ahead of the crashing wall of white foam generated by the breaking lip.
If they positioned themselves too wide of the sweet spot, they’d miss the wave when it came and almost certainly get cleaned up by the next one. If they sat too far inside of it, the board would nosedive down the face and they’d get caught by the breaking lip. It’d pick them up and smash them onto the coral reef.
He lined up the board at forty-five degrees to where he figured the giant wave would break.
Erina’s back muscles flexed under his chest.
He slid back an inch so the nose tilted upward a little more, reducing the risk of a nosedive, the biggest hazard when riding tandem. The board was now at the optimum angle and their weight distribution felt just right. The undertow started sucking them toward the approaching wave.
Once its arching face swept them up, he’d only be able to make fine adjustments, shifting his weight incrementally and leaning left or right to trim the board.
He moved forward an inch and shouted, “Hang tight! ”
He stroked hard and deep, his inner arms brushing past Erina’s thighs.
The ten-foot board sprung to life, and as the full force of the wave took hold, they charged across the steep face, the bottom of the board whooshing against the water. They accelerated high above the earthly plane, perfectly in tune with the forces of nature. It felt like they’d been catapulted into another dimension, where the laws of gravity ceased to apply.
He leaned into the wave, lifting them further up the face, the height of two stacked semitrailers above the water. The surf gods rode with them, guided them, as they hurtled through time and space.
The deck started vibrating.
He eased his weight off Erina’s back and leaned further into the curl, lining up the board so that they maintained height, speed and position and stayed ahead of the breaking lip, roaring a few feet behind them. Any further back and the breaking section would eat them. Any further forward and they’d be thrown off the wave.
This sense of dancing on the edge of oblivion made surfing big waves a profound and soulful experience. It was addictive, driving surfers to travel the world seeking the next adrenalin-fuelled high. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any more intense, it did.
The lip curled over them, encasing them in a cylindrical tube of water – what surfers called a stand-up barrel – big enough to stand upright and stretch your arms out wide.
Their world became eerily quiet and pitch-black. They’d entered the zone known as the “green room.” The mystical place every surfer longed to be. Like being suspended inside Mother Nature’s womb. A moment of holy stillness surrounded by the surging power of nature, a fragile snapshot of perfection.
He slid his weight a fraction forward to generate more speed, his chest pressing on Erina’s back. He felt her muscles tense as the board flew across the face through the eerie darkness.
Nothing seemed real, except Erina’s taut body beneath him.
One second they were deep inside the tube, the next they flew out onto the open face.
A rush of exhilaration raced through him. It was like they’d travelled to the other side of existence and returned to tell the tale.
For a serious surfer, nothing could ever match this experience, every micro-second tinged with the prospect of a watery death.
Yet such perfection couldn’t last.
Sounds from outside their cocoon crashed in. They’d re-entered the real world, where the laws of time, space and gravity ruled.
Somewhere behind them, the helicopter roared. To their left, waves smashed onto the shallow reef.
More disturbingly, the angle of the board had changed, shattering the perfect symmetry they’d experienced inside the green room.
He shifted his weight further back and leaned harder into the wave.
The board wobbled from side to side.
He yelled, “Hold on!”
Just as he spoke, the board nosedived, plunging forward into the abyss.
The nose twisted and turned. The board rolled and bucked.
He tried to hang on, but the power of the wave wrenched the board out of his hands.
He grabbed Erina by the waist.
The full force of the wave crashed into his back, driving them down into the unholy depths of no man’s land, spinning them around and around through the ink-black swirling water. There was no up or down or anywhere in between.
He had no idea how far down they’d been pushed.
His arms gripped Erina’s stomach and squeezed tight, trying to maintain a secure hold.
Her skin was slippery. His legs entangled with hers.
He needed to get a better grip, somehow wrap his arms under her shoulders and his legs around her torso in a vice. Or he’d lose her.
He adjusted his arms to get a firmer grip.
At that precise moment the tumbling wave gave a violent jerk, picking them up and hurling them toward the ocean floor.
The surging wall of water twisted him to the left.
Her to the right.
He clutched at her waist. His grip started to slip.
One second he had hold of her.
The next …
She was gone.
19
In the chaos of no man’s land Carter was gripped by a feeling he almost never succumbed to.
Fear.
Erina was a good surfer and swimmer, but she wasn’t anywhere near as familiar with this violent, out-of-control world as he was. In such extreme conditions she’d be vulnerable. And there was the distinct possibility that the board had struck her on the head, rendering her unconscious.
The thought of losing her terrified him.
The rampaging wave drove him down, down, down and spun him around and around. His arms flayed about in the darkness, seeking Erina among the chundering mass of raging water moving in every direction. The more he thrashed about, the more the ocean pummeled him, and he achieved nothing.
After a few minutes his lungs began screaming for oxygen. Just when he felt sure they’d burst, a moment of clarity descended upon him.
To survive in heavy surf such as this, you needed to understand, accept and ride out the wild whims and violent moods of the ocean with detachment, humility and patience. If you failed to do so, it would exact cruel vengeance. Thrashing about had only wasted precious air.
He ceased fighting and surrendered totally to the force of the ocean.
An immediate shift occurred. His body relaxed and his movement became effortless, like a cork bobbing in the water.
—
In its own time the ocean spat him out into still, calm water.
Carter’s head breached the surface and he drew in deep lungfuls of air. The daypack remained secure on his back.
He trod water, circling on the spot.
The wave had transported him across the reef to the deepwater channel, but there was no sign of Erina.
No Man's Land Page 19