Catching the California Wave

Some people are not meant to be surfers, I have concluded. 

Oceanside is one of the best places in the country to catch a wave, drawing in thousands of surfers each season, and I longed to be one of them. 

I began lessons last year, enjoying only the tiniest of improvements. At first, I could only ride the wave to the shore on my stomach. Eventually, I could get into a kneeling position, but it wasn’t until I could get on my feet that the real excitement began. 

Last August, I scheduled a time with my friend Bly to surf. It was a beautiful, sunny day. I got there early to take a long walk on the pier. Driving down Pacific Street, I stopped abruptly when I found a parking spot. Unfortunately, I did not see the motorcycle cop behind me; I was immediately pulled over. For convenience, I pulled into my parking spot to receive my ticket. 

“Have you ever heard of a turn signal?” the officer muttered his hand on his weapon. 

After answering in the affirmative, as non-sarcastically as I could offer, the officer relaxed a bit. 

“I almost ran into the back of you,” he complained.

“I’m sorry, I saw the parking spot a little too late. It was my fault,” I admitted. 

“OK, well, be more careful next time. Did you have your turn signal on?” he asked again.

“No, I did not, and I’m sorry,” I answered, attempting a sorrowful expression. 

“OK, be more careful next time,” he said before straddling his bike. 

I flushed with happiness.

This really was my lucky day. 

I walked to the pier and took selfies and a picture of a pelican. I felt spiritual, poetic, and in touch with nature. 

Overcome with the beauty of the sea, I wrote a haiku. I reasoned that she was there for me and had my best interest at heart.

Toes on sandy shore

I leap in the sparkling sea

For she catches me

Bly was coming in from the surf when I returned.

“I don’t know why going out there still makes me nervous,” I admitted. 

“What could happen?” he asked. “The worst thing that could happen is a few bumps or bruises.” 

“True,” I answered, remembering my poem and my good fortune with the officer. The ocean would be there for me too. 

After tugging on my wetsuit and strapping the leash to my ankle, we made our way to the waves. 

Unfortunately, our chosen area was filled with fist-sized rocks, making wading out difficult. A lifeguard approached us and advised us to move to a different area. 

“OK, Bly answered. We will make our way down after this wave.” 

Jumping onto the board, we paddled out before turning the board around to catch my first wave. 

Uncharacteristically, I could get to my feet before falling into shallow water onto the rocks. 

“I’m not hurt!” I called back to Bly, scrambling to get to my feet before inhaling more salt water. 

“Woo hoo!” Bly yelled from behind me, “Good job!” 

Suddenly, a strong wave hit me from behind, causing me to roll onto my left leg. I felt the bones pop as they twisted and tangled in the rocks.

I screamed out in pain as soon as I could come up for air. 

Still thinking I was celebrating the wave, Bly exchanged the whooping. 

“Ahhh!!!!” I cried, “Woo hoo!” Bly answered. 

“Damin it; I’m hurt!” I yelled back. 

“Oh my God, how?” he answered, swimming to me. 

By now, the lifeguards were approaching to help. 

Bly helped me to my good foot, and I hopped to the dry sand. 

After determining that I could not drive, the lifeguards called an ambulance, which drove me to a local hospital. 

Deeply disappointed that I did not get lights or sirens on my first ride, I arrived at the ER, where my wetsuit was cut to my thigh and X-rays were taken. I broke my foot in one place and my fibula in two. 

I was sent home with an appointment with an orthopedist, a temporary cast, and painkillers. 

I have often been wondering if I’ll surf again. Since I also have a shark phobia, there is much to overcome. I know I’ll have to get into better shape before I try again. 

However, I’m sure this summer, I’ll be back out there, trying to catch that elusive wave and somehow finding my way to my feet.