It was a long time ago but I remember the wave clearly. There are a couple of reasons for that. It was definitely the biggest wave I ever rode and it didn't end well. A combination, if you are still chasing big waves, worth avoiding. These days of course it probably wouldn't even rate as a "big" wave since the scale seems to have roughly doubled. Buzzy Trent's observation that "big waves aren't measured in feet but in increments of fear" though, is as true as it ever was. Was I scared?  In retrospect, I believe, inadequately until the situation unfolded.

It was my second trip to Hawaii and I had been on the North Shore for about six weeks surfing Sunset in all conditions. I should have been more open to new experience, zipping up and down the Kam highway to wherever was best on the day, but sticking to Sunset had some advantages. Not least that I had become a very familiar face to the locals and while I would never claim to have earned their respect, I had at least gained their indifference. I didn't hassle them and they let me have my waves. Unless, of course, one of them seriously wanted it, then I would graciously withdraw. It was a good tactic then, but these days I wouldn't be so sure of its usefulness.

So I had surfed the place at what I thought was maximum size with sets feathering right across the rip to Kammies. And I had dealt with my fair share of heavy situations. Caught inside on a whopping west peak, swum in through a raging rip only to see my board far outside heading for Velzyland and then swum the extra lap to retrieve it. I wouldn't say that I had become over confident but maybe my comfort zone had become a little too wide.  Other surfers I know have had similar experiences. You reach a point where studied and focused calmness becomes ordinary calmness and that dulls the edge of your judgement until you make a mistake.

I had been watching for an hour or so through our lounge room window which had a perfect view of the line up. It looked like there were two swells in the water, a fairly constant west swell at 8-10ft and a building inconsistent, substantially bigger north west swell. I saw a few gems run through from that outside peak and decided it was time to go. It wasn't crowded and most of those who were out were gathered around the main west peak. I paddled over to where a few were waiting for the larger sets.

I picked up one in the 12ft range but couldn't get across the saddle to the main peak so I turned out. Logically what I needed was a bigger wave that would wall right through without filling up between the peaks. I waited quite a while and then picked up as good a wave as I ever rode at that place. 15ft, clean and perfect all the way through the inside. As I paddled back out the biggest set of the day so far came through and had everyone scrambling as it stood up threateningly outside the existing line up. Three waves powered through unridden. Waiting outside, two or three similar sets came through but others had better position so I let them go.

Then it came, I don't know what size to call it because my instinct says 20ft but local lore is that Sunset won't hold 20ft.  But whatever size it might have been, I am confident it was right on Sunset's upper limit. And it was mine. Absolutely without question. No-one else was even close. All eyes were on me. So I went. It felt different from anything I had previously ridden. The take off was straight forward but once in I found myself on a vast slope that, fatally, took much longer to descend than I had anticipated. As I paddled in the peak was behind me and the wall in front seemed easily makeable. By the time I was half way down though I knew that equation was wrong.  The peak had moved past me. At first I thought I had time to turn up through it and out onto the wall, then I thought it may have been possible to back door it. Then I knew it was all too late.

It could have been worse. I could have been stranded directly under the peak as it unloaded. But it could also have been better. The peak wasn't that far past me. If it had been further away I could have just run out in front of the wave and bailed. From where I was there was no real escape. The lip wasn't going to hit me directly but it was going to land a few metres away. I dived off and swam for the bottom.

The shock wave hit me almost immediately. I was used to the feeling of being blasted out of control in whatever way the wave wanted, but this was more like being vaporised. All normal spatial perception was gone. I was wrenched and torn in every direction at once. They used to say that no hold down was longer than thirty seconds and, not having a stop watch or being focused enough to do the one thousand, two thousand thing, I am not going to dispute that. Let's just say it was an uncomfortably long hold down. One of those ones that drags you for a while, spits you out on the bottom and throws you back down on your first few attempts to surface, then when you finally break through, leaves two foot of froth to be cleared before you can get a breath.

The problem though is never the first hold down. Anyone given a sufficient incentive, such as not drowning, can hold their breath long enough. No it's what happens then, when you have finally managed to breathe a few desperate breaths and look around to see a mountain of white water only a few seconds away from engulfing you. So I went down again, for what seemed like even longer. No tricks this time though, just a long, long drag as the turbulence reached all the way to the bottom and I was tumbled into shallower water. Then much the same again for the third hold down.

All you have you have to do, of course, is stay calm, not panic and theoretically you can survive much worse than happened to me. These days, if you watch the crowd at Jaws, people obviously do. Me? I came up light headed and weak on the edge of the rip which, with the weight of water just dumped on the reef, was doing double time. I did the hard part of the swim, found my board in the inside channel, paddled in and vomited on the beach. A few surfers on their way in glanced over at me indifferently, so I buried my mess and went home. The next day was smaller and I went back out, as you do. For whatever reason I never got another chance at a wave that size, but I spent the rest of the season looking for one. //blindboy