JD's Journal : Almost Killed By Kiwi Enthusiasm

It's been a long day surfing, and we've been waiting for "KDog" to get his last wave for twenty minutes. It's late, and there's some grey on the horizon which doesn't look too nice. KDog is a 52-year-old, shaven-headed, really nice, super-aggro New Zealander. He finally gets his last wave. We cheer, rudely. He's paddling back to the boat, and Tui, another New Zealander, is untying the boat from the mooring. We're about seven miles offshore. "Dont untie the boat until he starts the motor" shouts KDog, his point being we could cheerfully drift back into the break in the boat - which would be interesting, as it's well over head-high, breaking over shallow reef. We'd lose the boat. We'd be out here all night.

Paranoia, I think. But then, the outboard doesnt start. It makes nasty coughing noises. The boatman fiddles around, tries again, more coughing noises. The grey on the horizon is now closer, and there's a pretty strong wind. Boatman takes the plugs out. It's about an hour before sundown, about a 45-min boat trip back to the camp. We do an inventory. Water? No. Flares? No. Radio? No. Lifejackets? No. Food? No. Wet-weather clothing? OK, well, I've got my jacket, everybody else is in short-sleeved rashies and shorts. Nice. Lucky we paid all that money for the boat (which is a small open fishing boat, by the way - no cover, no seats, no nothing)...

Boatman tries the engine again. Ugly coughing noises. KDog starts to take control. "We should up-anchor and drift - we can use the tarp as a sail!" he claims. His mates aren't completely enthusiastic, which is good, because KDog is proposing we sail, in the dark, seven miles in an approaching tropical storm using a tarp which we take turns to hold up into the wind.

I do a quick gut-check. Nope, not scared. The water's warm, I have a surfboard to hold onto. The camp knows we're out here. Worst case we're talking sitting in the water until mid-day tomorrow. It'll be very uncomfortable, but that's about it.

Tui takes over the engine. Cough, splutter. The wind is way up, and there's chop coming in over the boat. Everybody else is getting cold - I'm hunkered down in my rain-jacket switching all my brain circuits down to neutral so I dont get bored sitting in the water for twelve hours..

KDog says "Right lads, time for a decision! Let's cut the rope!". The boatman agrees. Fuck. Just then, there is a fabulous healthy noise from the engine, and Tui's got it working - air in the fuel-line. Yeah Tui!

We run home, into increasing darkness, heavy wind and rain. We get to the camp, bang down huge amounts of alcohol and listen as a full-on tropical storm hammers on the roof.

KDog gets two hours of classic New Zealand grief for suggesting the sail. I think: I wasn't scared. I must have been out of my mind.

my email is: jdj@pacificwaverider.com

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