Nature’s Netty-Pot
"Oh, good God," I mumble to myself. My arms are burning and trembling with exhaustion, but I have to get two more good paddle-strokes in to make it over this wave. It's a clean-up set; something surfers call the extra big sets of waves that come in and wipe everybody out, or "clean-up" the lineup, so to speak. And I'm caught a little too far inside. And on just the second wave...
It's a big day out at La Push, Washington. Big, but gloriously beautiful. With faces reaching 5-6 feet in organized swell periods, I'm out of my comfort zone. Never have I felt power like this in the ocean. I'm quite literally buzzing, feeding off the energy all around me.
I make it over wave number two and look up, to my dismay, at the freight-train of white water starting to cascade down the 5-foot face. Here we go. I’m too far inside, and the wave feathers and then breaks right above me. I turtle my board (flip it over and hold on, or try to) and immediately I'm taken by the sea. Board ripped from my hands, I'm sent into the washing machine of white water. Somersault after somersault, pulled through the sea like a ragdoll. I’m not sure which way is up. I got worked.
"That'll clean out your sinuses!" my boyfriend yells to me, with a somewhat concerned yet amused look on his face.
"This is nature's netty-pot!" I respond, half-giggling, half-coughing as cold salt water pours out of my nose.
You know when you're super stuffy from fighting a cold, and your weird dad suggests you do a nose flush? (No? Just me?) Well, the "Netty-Pot" is the oddly effective contraption that imitates a bad wipeout in the surf... at least that's what it feels like. You simply blend up a mixture of saline and warm, filtered water and then pour it into your nose to clean out all the sickness in your sinuses. This is EXACTLY what it feels like to have a bad wipeout. Hence, nature's netty-pot.
Getting a hold of myself, I slide back on my longboard and start the paddle-battle back through the surf out to the lineup more than 25 yards away. Timing it right this round, I'm only forced to turtle my board once before making it out to my desired spot just outside the impact zone. Surrounding me are the other brave souls who venture out in this icy cold water, itching for the adrenaline rush one only gets from a steep drop from the ocean's energy.
I'm usually one of the only girls out in the lineup. That's normal; I’m used to it. It is interesting how the energy of the people in the lineup can totally make or break the experience. I've been "vibed out" of the ocean before, and it's so unfortunate. It’s usually the angry, taking-it-way-too-seriously surfer whose territorial, or something like that. That’s pretty normal for super popular spots, but it’s rarer for up here, where I am. This time it seems to be a good group of guys. I’m grateful for the good energy today.
Spotting the next line on the horizon, we all giddily paddle out further, antsy. The first wave comes. It's a gorgeous five-to-six-footer, feathering at the top. Building as it gets closer, finally the white water wins and starts breaking over the face. The surfer next to me takes the drop. Successful in his landing, he rips his short board all over the blank canvass of a dark green wall, creating his own work of art on his way in. The swell is building.
Nerves wiggling around inside me, I say a prayer to the sea.
"I surrender to whatever happens.", I whisper. A bit dramatic, I know. But I was scared.
The second wave passes and I know the third is mine. This wave is so much bigger than anything I've surfed before... but I feel this pull, this need to try. Scooting back on my board, I use my bodyweight to lift the front of my board out of the water and pivot, so I’m now facing the beach. With my head on a swivel, I watch as the monster get bigger, and closer. Adrenaline takes over. I put my head down and paddle as hard as I can, fully committing to my fate. This will either be the best wave of my life, or the gnarliest wipeout yet.
It all happened so fast. I felt the wave pull me back, queuing me to start my pop as it then shoots me forward. Down the face of the wave, white water cracking and biting at my heels. I land the drop. Those seven seconds felt like an eternity. I rode that wave as long as I could until my nerves got the best of me and my balance gave out.
The feelings I had before, during, and after that wave are why I keep coming back to the ocean. It's so exhilarating, peaceful, humbling, and exciting all at once. It's like nothing I've ever experienced. I am free.
With the biggest grin plastered across my salt-soaked face, I glance back out to the lineup, letting out a "whoop!" of pure joy followed by a series of giggles. I’m both ecstatic and absolutely shocked at what just happened. That was the best wave of my life. I see one of the guys turn, lift his hands, and clap for my wave - followed by a fist pump in the salty air and a "Yeeeow!". Never have I been acknowledged by another surfer I didn't know. The feeling of acceptance that washed over me after that small gesture took me by surprise. Why did it mean so much to me that a male surfer applauded my wave? Who knows, what I do know however, is that I belong in the water just as much as any person does, regardless of skill level or gender.
When it comes down to it, it's not about measuring how good you are, what board you surf, where you surf, or what level you're at. It's about connecting to Mother Nature, to the sea. It's my church; my release. It's about feeling one with the grander world. It's about freedom.
I'm writing this, days after that wave, and as I sort through the thoughts in my brain I'm immediately taken back to that special moment. This is why people get the surf bug. Once you get bit, you can never go back. You become a surfer, like the rest of us. Welcome.