I spent the summer and fall of 2002 on the North Shore of Maui. While I had been in the biggest California could throw at me, I still was missing that one trophy: a huge winter wave at Ho’okipa Beach Park - The Mecca of windsurfing.
I had trained in the howling summer Trade Winds and got my body into tip-top shape with what seemed like military training. I had taken my swimming up a notch because, unlike California where if you wipe out the surf will eventually push you ashore, every break in Hawaii, when at size, has a rip current that will kill you.
So finally September comes to a close and lo and behold, a storm in the North Pacific starts hurling energy down towards the islands. Everyone was so happy and the testosterone was flowing. During the first week of October, these massive sets start rolling into Ho’okipa and at the very first puff of wind, the best windsurfers in the world, literally the legends, are hitting the water. I get my mind around it and it was now or never, so I jumped in and tried my hardest to navigate the channel in front of the rocks (much more on those in different posts) and out past the impact zone to wait for my turn.
This is part of what happened next (I am the guy in the back and for scale, the sails back then were about 13 feet tall.) This particular wave was going to push us right on the rocks so there wasn’t much wave riding going on as much as both of us getting to safety.
I did manage to snag some epic rides that day for a taste. And the next day too. But the next was marred by me smashing some gear on the rocks, and that was that. My summer was ending anyway, and it was time to go back home to Vietnam.
Postscript: That had me hooked and I eventually moved to Maui for more of that! I certainly got more than just a taste and a few scars to boot.