Into the Big Blue, a 5km open water swim crossing from Aliwal Shoal to Green Point.
17/05/2013
The initial plan was to swim from Black Tip Reef, as illustrated on the map. At the last minute OJ's mate found the GPS co-ordinates for Pinacles which is only 5m deep so we headed there instead. As it turned out it was only 600m further.
Pre-departure nerves.
The idea was to paddle out to the shoal on a ski and swim back with the minimum of fuss.
The moment I'm about to jump off the ski into the water at The Shoal. Almost exactly 5km from the shore.
It was important for me to actually swim down and push off the shoal before heading back to land. At only 5m depth this is why The Pinnacles section of The Shoal was a better option than Black Tip Reef even if it was a bit further. There is a lot of surge around the reef.
The land looked a looong way away when I set out. That smudge you see on the horizon is the land. The little white dots to the left is the town of Scottburgh.
Barry Lewin was a legend second and guide, lets face it if you are going to do this kind of thing who better than Barry to help you do it.
The water was so clear that when I swam off the reef I looked down into an infinite luminous never ending blue. It was magnificent.
I'm a surfer bru, no speedo for me.
Before I left OJ asked me if I didn't want to take of some of my jewelry as the flashing might attract sharks. So I stripped down to the bare essentials... these guys go everywhere with me.
It was awesome watching the coastline I know so well getting closer.
Coming into the bay right in front of my house at Green Point. I could see the bottom of the sea bed from about 1km out. I reckon the vis must have been around 30m.
The whole time I was swimming I thought about how privileged we are to live here and what a beautiful place this is.
It has taken me 18 months to do this swim and when my feet touched the sand after a 5km paddle and a 5km swim I was properly stoked. How blessed are we to live in a place where you can do this?
Back on the beach, mission accomplished and about to high 5 Barry.
Aliwal to Green Point Crossing done and dusted. What a perfect day to do it. No swell, no current, no wind and water around 25 degrees.
For the full account read below.
The Shoal to The Shore.
Aliwal Shoal to Green Point Swim 14/05/2013.
By John McCarthy.
With my heart thundering in my chest I slipped quietly into the swirling waters around me. In the far distance, 5 km away on the horizon, I could make out a smudge of land. At that precise point in time the thought gave me little comfort. I was far too preoccupied with ideas of what predators lurked below. The water was warm, but hard on my body as the fingers of reef below reached out into the current creating a boiling upwelling surge and suck of displaced water. I love the ocean but at that point in time I was way out of my comfort zone.
When I turned 40 I wanted to do something different to celebrate that milestone other than have a traditional party. Most of my good friends are physically in good shape so I invited them to do a swim from Aliwal Shoal to Green Point with me. It is a swim from a barely submerged shoal of reef 5 kilometers offshore to the beach in front of my house at Green Point on the KZN South Coast in South Africa. I was surprised at how little enthusiasm I received for the project. Also it became clear from the outset that there was no way we could reach a consensus on how do it while at the same time manage the risk responsibly.
The distance of 5km would be challenging but doable for most of the crew that I had invited. The biggest worry on everyone’s minds was the danger of being attacked by a shark. Soon the discussions spiraled into a mess of med-evac options, jetskis, safety boats and anti shark devices.
There was no precedent to follow because to the best of my knowledge no one has ever done it as an open water swim before. I’ve heard of divers being left behind and lost on The Shoal, but never of anyone in only swimming goggles and trunks setting out with the express intention of deliberately swimming the 5 kilometer crossing.
I quietly let the idea die down while secretly I harbored the desire to complete this swim.
Why?
I believe we all fear the unknown to a greater or lesser extent. Challenging oneself to step into that unknown is a growing experience on a personal level, but it is also a real learning experience of how you fit into the world around you and weather you feel you belong there or not. I’ve always believed that if you are going to live in South Africa you have to take advantage of what South Africa has to offer. Part of the upside to living here is our access to amazing wilderness resources both in the sea and on the land. As a surfer I find myself constantly exposed to these resources and I never cease to feel blessed just to be there in the moment enjoying what they have to offer.
A few years ago while competing in the Non-stop Dusi Canoe Race from Petermaritzburg to Durban (120km in one day) I had a flashbulb moment. I was running down a dirt trail in the bush in the middle of the Umgeni Valley with a canoe on my shoulder. Apart from my partner I hadn’t seen another canoeist in ages. We were alone, moving through the landscape. What had started out as an endurance challenge ended up as a full-blown meta-physical realisation. To have the physical ability to move through a vast wilderness area and have the awareness to appreciate the sanctity and beauty of that environment while you did so created the most unbelievable sensation of freedom.
Yes a sensation of freedom.
I never forgot the phase ‘moving through the landscape’ or the sense of freedom I felt when doing so.
The swim from Aliwal was motivated by a desire to explore this concept in a marine environment. One in which I was intimately involved with through surfing along the coast, but equally one which I knew so little about offshore. I found it incongruous that I could sit on my deck and look out into the vast blue and not be better connected with it. It wasn’t about being the first to do it, but rather about just doing it.
My birthday is in August. Historically this is at the tail end of the annual Sardine Run, which often starts in early July. At this time of year we see a huge amount of predator activity around our coastline, where the sharks follow the game fish that are chasing the sardines. The number one Mnumzane* that we respect at this time is the Great White Shark. Lured north by cooler water and plenty of food they are regular visitors to KZN in this period. In discussions I had with Paul Von Blerk from the KZN Sharks Board he begged me not to do it at least until November when he reckoned by their standards things would have quietened down substantially. The problem with November to April for us is that the summer rainfall results in the many rivers along our coast flooding and the water especially inshore can get very murky. This is problematic because these are ideal conditions for Mnumzane number two, otherwise known as The Zambezi Shark. From January to May our waters warm up considerably and though they start to clean up the warmer water temperatures see Mnumzane number three, The Tiger Shark being more active.
So while there are nearly 200 species of shark on the planet, 98% of which are basically harmless to humans the three that are capable and historically have shown interest in humans occasionally were ‘in residence’ so to speak between The Shoal and the coast for almost 10 months of the year. There was also obviously the opportunity for a non-seasonal chance encounter with any of the three. We surf year round in South Africa and every time you enter the water you are essentially entering the food chain. As a surfer in South Africa you have to make peace with that concept or you will never go surfing. The same applies to walking in the bush. It is not Disney Land; there is no safety net other than your understanding of the environment.
Some people have told me I’m crazy to surf and swim where I do, these are the same people who live in gated communities and send their children to shopping malls for entertainment. They believe that aquariums and zoos are the ideal place to introduce your children to animals. I think they’re crazy because they choose to live in bubbles of artificial man made reality and in doing so they lose their connection to the environment and their spiritual connection to the world as a whole. Me choosing to swim from Aliwal Shoal to Green Point is not crazy, it is just me choosing to inhabit the real world that surrounds me.
I had some interesting discussions with Mark Addison from Blue Wilderness Safaris about Shark behavior. This was really informative. A lot of what he told me supported my own anecdotal findings over the years in the experiences I’ve had with sharks while surfing. For the most part they have left me alone, although I did have one hairy incident with 4 Zambezi’s all at the same time while surfing at Ponta D’Ouro in Mozambique. This instilled in me a healthy respect for their curiosity! I also had long chats with my friend OJ Symcox who was recently involved in a documentary production which tested the myths and realities about what attracted sharks. The big discovery here was the sound of boat engines was a real attraction as sharks over time have learned to associate boats with fishing and sources of food. Also the debate on the shark pod device raged from ‘don’t enter the water without one’ to they actually attract sharks at certain frequencies before it repels them... mmmm. I’ve always been a low-tech kind of guy where the simpler is usually the better. I decided against using a shark pod for my swim. My strategy was to be a part of nature, respectfully and with understanding, not a crude and rude intruder.
There was also the importance of realizing the distinction of diving/free diving in the water with sharks, a not uncommon experience off Aliwal Shoal and of pulling oneself across the surface of the ocean, where quite literally you are a sitting duck for predators below.
Towards the end of July into August our water temperature drops substantially. This meant that the only time realistically I could expect to swim without a wetsuit would be from January to the end of June. While I would have done it in a wetsuit if that was my only option I preferred not to as swimming in a wetsuit is a bit like chewing chewing gum with the wrapping on – just not as much fun.
When I started talking to dive boat operators and fishermen about currents between The Shoal and the shoreline I was in for an unexpected and unpleasant surprise. It seems that strong currents were part of that environment. This was illustrated to me in no uncertain terms when in November last year 9 divers were lost for 4 hours and drifted a distance of 18km south before being rescued.
Often at Greenpoint, especially between August and November I’ll go surfing expecting the waves to be good and for some inexplicable reason the swell seems broken up. Initially I attributed this to wind conditions that the internet sites were not picking up but increasingly I began to think that it could be the current that was helping to break up an otherwise beautifully groomed swell.
It seemed the more I researched this the more complicated the variables were.
I thought about it long and hard and decided that the tail end of the Tiger season just prior to the Sardine run was the best time of year to make an attempt for several reasons. Mostly Tigers in our waters are non aggressive to humans. Between May and June we have our most stable days and light winds that last until midday. The water is warm and it is clean. So out of 12 months the window was narrowed down to 2, May and June.
The plan I developed was to paddle off the shore out to The Shoal on a double surfski. Once out there I would jump off, swim down to the pinnacles, kick off and head for the shore. I wanted to avoid using a boat if possible because of the fact that at the speed it would have to go at to tail me it would definitely attract sharks. Also breathing the smell of petrol the whole way while swimming back didn’t appeal at all. If anything showed an undue interest in me my plan was to jump back on the ski. My thinking was that from below we’d appear as a pair, part of one unit and would be less attractive to predators eyeing us out from below. I’d wait until the day that was dead calm, with no current, great visibility and no wind then I’d go for it.
So with the ‘when’ and the ‘how’ taken care of, theoretically at least, I had to make sure I was in shape to be able to swim a 5km ocean crossing when the day arrived. This kind of training is different to a normal event which you can train yourself to peak for because you have to train enough to maintain a steady fitness but you can never really go flat out because you never know when the day will come.
I surf prolifically, but this year I supplemented my surfing with plenty of bodysurfing. I also swam in the sea along the beachfront in Durban at least twice a week. A typical swim for me would be from South Beach to The Bay of Plenty a distance of around 1.6kms I think. I say I think because I never actually measured it. If I couldn’t swim in the sea I’d swim at Kings Park and when in Cape Town I’d swim in the Sea Point pool, which was freezing for a warm blooded Durbanite at the start of May. These were never hard training sessions and were always a joy. I always swam alone in my training swims because I knew I was preparing for a solo crossing from Aliwal. A large part of open water swimming, especially in the sea, takes place in your head. You know that there is other sea life around but you can’t always see it. Your heart stops dead when you swim into a plastic packet or something brushes against you but you have to keep your nerve once you are out beyond backline. If you panic you are a gonner. The mental training I did for this swim served me well for that moment when I had to jump off the ski out on the Shoal. Essentially what you have to manage is a sensation of exposure which comes and goes, but I find is always more prevalent in the early part of the swim. One morning I was swimming from South Beach to Bay and had just got behind the backline at South Beach when I saw a huge dark shape flash past me underwater. I got such a fright I nearly swallowed my goggles! I prepared myself for the worst, looked up and found myself surrounded by a playful pod of dolphins. From abject fear I travelled to ecstasy in the blink of an eye. They accompanied me for a short while before moving off on their own. I’ll treasure that experience my whole life precisely because though I might have been the only human out there, I wasn’t alone.
I was ticking over mixing up my swimming, surfing and bodysurfing until last Sunday when surfing on the south coast I realized how warm and clear the water was. I looked at the charts and saw that there were going to be a couple of beautiful, light wind, no-swell days coming up. Honestly this took me a little by surprise as I was expecting to do the swim in June. With what was looking like an increasingly good window of opportunity opening up I quickly got on the phone to Barry Lewin. Barry is a very accomplished surfski paddler, lifeguard, surfer, swimmer and all round waterman. He was perfect for the job of being my second, guide and medical back up. I was relieved when he quickly agreed to the job. I also contacted Mark Addison about activity on the Shoal. Mark said there were still a few Tigers about but nothing to prevent me from going for it if I wanted to. While the water temperature was still around 24/25 degrees the air temperatures over night were dropping to around 15 degrees, which is pretty chilly. I wanted to time my swim to be swimming with the warmest part of the day but equally to avoid the chance of wind because that chops up the surface and makes swimming unpleasant. Looking at the charts there was a clear window up until around 11:30am on Tuesday.
That’s it, it was on! I called Barry, cancelled my meeting with Safari Surfboards on Tuesday morning and prepared myself for the task at hand.
Barry got down the coast before me and I texted him anxious to see if my weather call had been right. From the deck of OJ and Russ’s house at Green Point, which boasts an incredible view of the sea all the way out to The Shoal, he texted me back. “U got the best in the history of time”.
When I arrived I woolfed down a bowl of FUTURELIFE and 500ml of water to make sure I'd have energy and be hydrated for the crossing. Barry was ready to rock ‘n roll. He had 2 skis, a GoPro, a GPS, a drybag for his phone and food and drink to keep us both alive for several days and nights out there if we needed it. My contribution was a pair of goggles and a tie-down. I soberly handed it to Barry to stash in his bag with the instruction “you know what to do with this if you need to”. He looked at me smiled and told me to pick up the ski.
When you are stepping out into the unknown you want to have a clear mind and a positive attitude. I can tell you that Barry Lewin is an amazing conductor of positive energy.
We set the co-ordinates for The Pinnacles section of The Shoal and set off from the beach on what I can comfortably say was one of the most beautiful days I’ve ever seen for an ocean swim, ever. Not a cloud in the sky. No wind. No swell. No current. A gentle one-foot wave lapping on the shorebreak. Water temp around 24/25 degrees and visibility around 30 meters. It was breathtaking! The action of paddling out in the ski gave me something to take my mind off what was to follow. All to soon it seemed we were arriving at the Shoal. I could see the reef below and there were several dive boats dotted around. Barry took me right to the pinnacles. The water was swirling around them, boiling and sucking and there were fish everywhere.
The moment of truth had arrived. I pulled my goggles over my head, grabbed the GoPro and jumped overboard, promptly capsizing the ski in the process. This spilled Barry into the water alongside me. He laughed and hauled himself onto the ski and that broke the tension. I took a breath and with the GoPro in one hand I struck out for the reef below. Because of the sharp drop off from the shoal any motion of water through the reef creates a serious surge. The day I was swimming was calm and the surge and the suck was still hectic. I’d have hated to try it on a heavy day. The top of the pinnacles section of The Shoal was only about 5 meters below the surface, but swimming without flippers or a weight belt and only one hand, while trying to equalize and hang onto the GoPro at the same time was much harder than I though it would be.
Actually touching the reef was important for me, I wanted to have that contact and to feel connected. To be able to say I’d really been there. Psychologically it had always been the start point of my swim whenever I’d talked about it or visualized myself doing it.
After a serious struggle and running short on air I finally reached the bottom, gave it a friendly touch, turned around and kicked off. I surfaced to find Barry had already drifted some way from me, such was the strength of the current around us. He paddled over, I handed back the GoPro and with a whoop set off for Green Point. The water was so clear that when I swam off The Shoal into the deep ocean I experienced a sensation of vertigo such was the infinite blue of what I was suddenly looking into after the close up reef and fish activity of The Shoal. Little specs of luminescence dotted out far below me and shafts of light filtered into the blue. I felt so privileged to be a part of it and was awed by the beauty of what surrounded me.
I hadn’t gone more than 50 meters before a Jelly Fish stung me. A sudden electric searing of pain jolted my right shoulder. I composed myself, put my head down and started swimming again. One hundred meters later it happened again.
I’d been so worried about the major predators I hadn’t even given the Jelly Fish a thought! Would these innocuous creatures scupper my attempt?
Barry was right next to me in the ski. He was in mission mode and looked at me no sympathy whatsoever. His body language just told me to get on with it and so I did. From that far out to sea you can’t actually see the beach. It was such a clear day that I could make out the lighthouse at Green Point and the radio tower above Clansthal. I said to Barry let’s aim for the radio tower until we can see the beach better and so we did. I swam right next to the ski and settled into what I call ‘the stretchy stroke’. This is a term I developed when teaching my children, Guy and Jessica how to swim. The key to the stretchy stroke was to stretch far out in front in a relaxed freestyle, but not to pull too hard. I told them you could swim all day if you did it right as it would never tire you out. Well I had a good chance to test that, and you know what it works!
Somehow I thought Barry and I would be chatting the whole way back, but it wasn’t like that. I settled into a rhythm with my stretchy stroke and Barry kept me on course. With my body involved in the stretchy stoke my mind had time to wander and I let it. I had time to process a lot of things that have been going on in my life recently. Somehow several kilometers offshore in the Indian Ocean a lot of different things came into focus. It was as if the clarity of the water around me seeped into my mind and I could see things clearly for the first time in a while. I had one more interruption in my swim when I was stung by a bluebottle at about the halfway point. When I yelped out, in typical Barry fashion he just looked at me like I was a wuss. I unwrapped the blue bottle and carried on swimming. As we neared the land I paused to look up more frequently. It was such a beautiful perspective of Green Point and I drank it in savoring every moment. The heebie-jeebies and thoughts of predators I’d had earlier were replaced by a wonder at the natural beauty of where we live. I thought of how so many people spend so much money travelling to all ends of the world when there are beautiful adventures to be had right here on our doorstep. The water was so clear that from a kilometer out to sea I could see the sand along the bottom of the seabed clearly. As I neared the beach I managed to bodysurf a tiny little wave into the shorebreak. Barry had gone ahead for the last hundred meters and was standing on the beach waiting for me with OJ and her two friends.
I walked up the beach and high fived Barry, then hugged the girls. Other than us the beach was deserted and it was still a beautiful day. I squinted out back towards The Shoal and marveled at the shimmering beauty of the ocean.
It had taken me a year and a half longer than I initially thought it would but I’d finally celebrated my 40th birthday in the style I’d wanted to and it felt good. The feeling of a body well exercised and autumn sun on my back piqued the thought of a celebratory cold beer at The Chief’s Cabin later.
Damn it felt good to be alive.
My grateful thanks go to Barry Lewin, OJ and Russell Symcox, Mark Addison and Paul Van Blerk for helping me to fulfill my 40th birthday present to myself.
Respect! that is one of a few words to describe your achievement. You set your task, managed it and completed in style. It is just a pity your friends turned down this opportunity. Perhaps in the greater scheme of things, it was better to be only yourself there in the water. I fear there may have been too many distractions and the swim might have turned from a peaceful serene environment to whinging and moaning from some who may not have put in the right amount of effort and heart into the challenge.
Congratulations. Just wish I had considered something along these lines for my 40th albeit ten years ago now.
This story shows how positivity can result in wonderful accomplishment with great self satisfying reward.
Posted by mandy on the 17/05/2013 16:26
This is such an inspiring and truly touching story !!
Posted by OJ on the 17/05/2013 16:39
What a privilege to have been able to watch you achieve this! John you are a real inspiration and a waterman in every sense of the word.
Posted by spoondog on the 18/05/2013 10:16
Nice one John-O ! Sicker than sick can be! What epic conditions.!
Posted by Rian on the 19/05/2013 12:53
"It was as if the clarity of the water around me seeped into my mind and I could see things clearly for the first time in a while." Nice one bru - Respect. stoke.
Posted by Claire Lindsay on the 19/05/2013 17:04
Awesome and inspiring read!
Posted by Philip Mostert on the 19/05/2013 20:16
Huge respect !!
Posted by Zot on the 20/05/2013 07:43
Big Respect. I used to fish there every weekend and that whole stretch is full of Johnnie One eyes , nevermind the currents.
Awesome achevement.
Posted by Mark on the 20/05/2013 08:43
Congrats John and happy 40th!
Posted by Black on the 20/05/2013 10:22
Hats off...again
Posted by Lance Wyly on the 20/05/2013 10:23
As JG would say you are a true Legend "Old Man"
Posted by Ian van der Walt on the 20/05/2013 11:32
Nice one, nicely done, good job. Looks like a fun swim. Now you can come down to PE next year and do the 8km Bell Buoy Challenge. And then of course there's the epic Freedom swim in CT ... :-P
Posted by Mark on the 20/05/2013 13:23
Shot, John the Bomb, this was big!
Posted by warren l on the 20/05/2013 13:54
I got pissed properly on my 40th instead! Big up to you John! Seriousley weldone mate!
Posted by Jamii on the 20/05/2013 14:30
Well done John, unique and inspirational!
Posted by Craig Cheary on the 20/05/2013 15:19
Well done John, that is unreal.
Posted by Michele on the 20/05/2013 16:19
Awesome reflections on your appreciation of life, connecting with what's real, and the privilege of living where we do - it's an honour to know you, John!
Posted by Trev on the 20/05/2013 18:54
Your reasons for doing if, and your respect for the ocean is amazing. Well done for your careful considerations and accomplishment
Posted by Robin Lavery on the 20/05/2013 20:30
Well done John! The comfort zone is not a comfortable place to be.
Posted by Pascale on the 21/05/2013 09:33
Hey John that was amazing. I loved reading it and seeing the awesome pics. Your planning and the thought processes behind it were also brilliant. Very inspiring.
It makes me think of the last 3 lines of Mary Oliver's poem The Summer Day ...
"Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?"
Well done John!!
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The Ride from Hell
26/10/2012
The Ride from Hell By John McCarthy
I can’t remember what day of the week it was, it felt like a Thursday or a Friday, but I’m not sure. It was mid winter Cape Town and I was running late for my flight. Earlier that day I’d been off Spooner’s boat, near The Sentinel, filming and surfing Dungeons. The North Westerly gale that had arrived a couple of hours into our session and sent us scampering back to the harbour at Hout Bay was now creating havoc with the traffic. Headlights on, windscreen wipers full tilt and feet slipping between the clutch accelerator and the brake. Visibility? The brake lights in front of me, that’s it. Camera gear and backpack in the boot. My 10ft Rhino Chaser strapped on the roof through the rental car with long straps now leaking rainwater onto my lap. Nothing I can do. Trapped in a gridlock of tin all fleeing the city before the winter storm really sets in. Moving forward an inch at a time. We’re all too late, it has overtaken us already. Now trapped in the rental being buffered about by the banshee wind, leaden sky and rain moving sideways. Front and back windscreens misting up. Hand on the glass. Rub, rub, rub. Wet. Water trickling down the back of my neck. Every second word running through my brain starts with ‘f’. At this point all I want to do is make my flight home.
As I enter the airplane cabin, brushing rain off my face and shouldering the heavy camera bag the other passengers glare back at me, the reason for their late departure. I register that the flight is almost empty, maybe 15 people dotted around the 737. I don’t care, relief floods through me as I sit down and fasten my seatbelt. I made it! The cabin attendant wastes no time in locking the doors and going through the pre-flight routine. I let my mind slip back to the incredible rides earlier that day and to some of the footage we got. Amazing. My reverie is broken by the captain who comes on the intercom.
“For those of you who did not chicken out of tonight’s flight please will you make absolutely sure you DO NOT remove your seatbelts until I give the all clear, its going to be a hell of a ride out of here.”
For the first time since Spooner’s boat docked in the Hout Bay harbour I start to pay attention to the weather, properly. Like a surfer looking at the ocean. It’s almost like my senses were switched off in the mad rush from the harbour to the airport through the traffic while I rejoined the rat race, but now they are back on. Full alert! And I don’t like what they’re telling me. I try to look out of the rain splattered window but there is only darkness beyond as the plane is buffeted all over the runway while taxing for take off. In a moment of clarity and 15 minutes too late, I realise that this is a night better suited to crowding into the Hout Bay Hotel pub and drinking beer next to the fire. This is not a night for flying!
As we take off I am convinced the plane is going to fall out of the sky, either that or crash into the mountains outside of Stellenbosch. In 30 years of flying all over the world I have never experienced anything like this. It feels as if the wings are being torn off the plane. Here and there around the cabin the luggage compartments pop open strewing their contents around the cabin. My stomach muscles ace against the seatbelt which holds me in my seat. Like one of those gravity rides at the amusement park I’m being thrown around like a rag doll. Without my seatbelt on I’d have broken my neck long ago. Oxygen masks drop from the roof. This is a living nightmare and I’m stuck in the middle of it. I’m in the isle seat on the right hand side of the plane. To my right in the window seat is a businessman in a suit. Eyes closed, white knuckles clenched around the arm-rest, lips moving slilently. I can see he is praying. To my left in the isle seat is a Muslim woman with a full head covering. She’s losing it as the dam wall that’s been holding back her anxiety bursts and gives way to a full blown panic attack. She’s alternating between sobbing and whailing, a high pitched keening, snot coming out of her nose and a curious kind of foam regales the corners of her mouth. Every now and again I can decipher a cry for help to Allah. Her terror is contagious. The turbulence is bone jarring. The moments of sick weightlessness followed by a crash that shakes everything in the plane to its core including the 15 passengers, three crew and two pilots trying to keep this bird in the sky.
Suddenly there is a startling silence. Oh no I think to myself, the wings have finally come off, this is it!
A few seconds later the intercom comes on.
“Wooohooo! That was the most radical flight we’ve ever had out of Cape Town! The good news folks is its over and all quiet and clear from now until we land.
I think to myself, this guy has to be a surfer. Who else would celebrate a near death ride in that manner?
I breathe properly again for the first time since I sat down in this seat which feels like a lifetime ago but my watch tells me was only 10 minutes. The cabin looks as if a tornado just swept through it. Debris and sobbing passengers everywhere. The air hostesses run to comfort the Muslim woman. They give her a tranquiliser. Slowly things return to normal as baggage is restowed and secured. White knuckles make way for timid smiles of relief.
Eventually the drinks trolley comes around.
“Would you care for something to drink sir?” The air hostess asks me politely. I can see she’s still a bit ruffled, but she’s regained her composure remarkably well in the circumstances.
“Yes I’d like two beers, a bottle of wine and a double gin and tonic please.” I reply straight-faced.
She doesn’t blink, and puts the drinks down on my tray.
“And for you sir?” she says as she leans across and asks the businessman sitting next to me.
“I’ll have the same!”
Sometime during that night the Windguru reading at Cape Point reached 10m, while the captain and crews of many ships around the peninsula struggled to prevent themselves being run aground in the storm. Some more successfully than others! The Crayfish Factory was cut off and the waves washed over the promenade at Sea Point and into the road at Camps Bay. Fishing trawlers inside the harbour at Kalk Bay were damaged as waves exploded over the breakwater.
Got something to say? Then leave a comment!
Posted by mark snowball on the 29/10/2012 09:59
Great story John,but looking at those photos I know given the choice I'd hold my nerve a lot better on that
flight than out there at Dungeons so for you to go through both in one day must have been an adrenalin overload.Guessing you slept bloody well hey!?
Posted by jared on the 29/10/2012 14:06
cool story.. i need drink now
Posted by Rol on the 30/10/2012 16:51
Haha, awesome story John!
Posted by Rian on the 31/10/2012 09:34
Definitely a surfer.
Posted by Gareth Davies on the 15/11/2012 04:51
Hey John, sounds like fun. I had a similar flight out of Kiev a couple years back but there was NO alcohol on the plane.
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.you do know that for many years a certain Bobby Selkirk held the record for catching the biggest great white. Where, you may ask? Walker Bay.
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One Scalp for Mother Nature
12/10/2012
One Scalp for Mother Ocean
Asu is a tiny island not far from Nias. But that is the only place nearby. And Nias isn’t exactly a metropolis. Our ship, the Island Explorer, lay anchored in the lee of the island, a quick paddle away from the reef that has made this speck in the Indian Ocean famous in surfing circles.
We had been enjoying a mellow session there one morning and we were just relaxing and recuperating from a pretty rough crossing on our way back from some of the wilder islands further north. Gavin, who was skippering the Explorer, was taking strain. He was worried about the seaworthiness of the ship and our water supply. Slowly, but surely he was becoming unhinged in the tropical heat.
Throughout the day the swell had increased in size and the head high waves we surfed in the morning had doubled in size by lunch time. I was tired and still wary of this wave after a humbling experience here on our previous visit, so after a day of good waves I was happy to watch the surf from the ship with a Bintang in my hand. Gavin had spent most of the day in the engine room again and he emerged from below deck in a foul mood. He was in the wrong frame of mind when he jumped overboard with his surfboard and stroked out towards the surf.
Gavin later told me that he really wanted to smash the waves to get rid of his frustration. He didn’t care that the swell had increased even more since the early afternoon; he was a big guy. He was angry and Asu was going to feel it.
But you don’t mess with the sea. It took only one wave to set things straight between Gavin and Mother Ocean.
“I was still paddling for that wave when the whole thing just jacked up and threw me down,” Gavin told me a few days later. “I went down so quickly, I didn’t even know I was under water. Then it whacked my head into my board so hard I nearly passed out, but I knew I had to stay conscious, otherwise I’d drown. I couldn’t do anything, the wave was too powerful, and so I just concentrated on holding my breath.”
He paused to breathe deeply and then he carried on talking.
“That wave just wouldn’t let up and I was out of air, plus the knock on the noggin had really concussed me. I kept expecting that I would faint and drown any second.
“You know, Doc, I don’t believe in an afterlife. When you die, you cease to exist, like a light switch has been flipped off. So while I could still feel the wave suffocating me, I knew that I was alive. That was kinda good, if you know what I mean. It actually surprised me that I still cared about being alive. I always thought that death would be a relief, but down there in the darkness I realised that I still wanted to live. So I started to swim for the surface. I popped out of the water like a cork and I remember just sucking air. Ahh, it felt so good, so sweet!”
He touched his eye reflexively.
“But then I noticed I was blind in my right eye and that scared the shit out of me. I couldn’t see where I was and the waves kept on battering me. There was blood in the water everywhere around me and I knew I was in deep trouble. I don’t know how long this carried on for, but I just went into a kind of stupor. Then I felt Ron lifting me onto a board and he started pushing me out of the impact zone. I remember saying to him, ‘I’m blind, I’m blind,’ but he just kept on telling me that it’s ok over and over again, like he didn’t believe it. That’s when I knew that I was in pretty bad shape. It took forever to get to the ship, like in a nightmare. I don’t know how they got me up the ladder and onto the deck, the next I remember was your face looking down at me, like I was the antichrist.” He chuckled.
I remember feeling ice cold as I watched Ron and Francois carry Gavin towards me where I was waiting for them in the stern. Blood was streaming from Gavin’s head and I knew that we had no equipment or facilities to deal with a serious head injury. If there was bleeding inside the skull, Gavin could die within hours. As the ship’s doctor, I felt very alone. As we laid him down on the table where we usually played cards, I was praying that Gavin had been dealt a good hand. His face was streaming with blood and his scalp was hanging down over his face like a curtain, obscuring his right eye and revealing patches of white skull on his forehead. Gavin had been scalped by his own surfboard. He had knocked two of the fins that were glassed onto his big-wave board clean off with his head. That takes some doing. I knew that the force required to do this kind of damage was enough to cause serious brain injuries.
“What a relief it was when you lifted that piece of skin that covered my eye and I could see out of it again!” Gavin gave a rare smile.
“Ja, I was just as glad,” I laughed. “It was amazing how few serious injuries you actually had, given the way you looked.”
“Yeah, you just kept on telling me how lucky I was and I was thinking, ‘If that’s what you call lucky I don’t want to see the unlucky bastards you’ve treated!’”
“And then we had that marathon suturing session. It took at least an hour to put you back together again. All by torchlight! But look at you now; I think I actually might have improved your looks somewhat!”
Actually, Gavin resembled a resurrected evil mummy. I had put in countless sutures to get the scalp back into place. It looked like someone had attempted a brain transplant on him. For the next few days Gavin wandered about the ship with a haphazardly shaved head, a massively swollen blue eye and bandages twisted about his face. Frankenstein’s monster would have been scared of him. It’s a pity we had no pirates or unwanted officials on board. We had the perfect deterrent for them!
Free download of ‘Island Explorer’ book for BOMBsurf readers. Dan Scheffler’s tale of adventure will keep you entertained from start to finish.
Island Explorer is available through Amazon.com (US$6.99) and Smashwords.com (US$4.99).
This is what Gavin Rudolph had to say about the book: "...I am fascinated by the in depth research you’ve put into this work,
the descriptions of the area and peoples are vivid and very enthralling."
“Wanted: six guys with guts!”
An obscure advertisement in a surf magazine sets in motion a journey through Sumatra’s jungles, across volcanoes and along chaotic roads, through isolated villages and temples to the fabled Mentawai Islands and beyond.
As the Island Explorer drifts deeper into the wilds, its occupants gradually lose their connection with the “real world” and start existing in their own dreamland.
But the future becomes uncertain when the captain jumps ship and the stand-in skipper slowly becomes unhinged in the tropical heat.
Join the quest to find pristine islands, untouched coral beaches and flawless surf. Sail through equatorial Indonesia’s sparkling seas with a group of surfers searching for that elusive, ideal wave.
Biography:
Dan Scheffler lives just outside Cape Town, South Africa with his wife and son.
He loves rough travelling, mountains and the sea. He is a doctor in general family practice, but tries not to let work interfere too much with his surfing.
When the Cape winters get cold or the Southeaster howls incessantly in summer, he escapes by writing about wild places and tropical trips.
Everyone at The Bomb is welcome to download a free copy of Island Explorer at www.smashwords.com
by using this code: GE97V. It's valid until 11 November. Search for the title, go through the purchasing process and type in the code at the end.
Got something to say? Then leave a comment!
Posted by MH on the 15/10/2012 22:45
Nice one Dr. Dan. I am enjoying the book!
Posted by Annette on the 16/10/2012 11:48
Hi Dan, i enjoy your writing and will download the book later on. Just wanted to say the pics look great on the iPad! All the best!
Posted by Rian on the 20/10/2012 18:19
"...but down there in the darkness I realised that I still wanted to live." Ja once bru - i'm glad you chose life. Peace.
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"It hurts like f@$ing hell!"
07/10/2012
In 1987/1988 I had the 'honour' of serving my country in the navy. After basic training was completed the worst, un-trainable, useless bunch of the entire intake were sent to hell for punishment, in this case a little dorp in the middle of nowhere on the Namibian coast. The crew included a couple of slummies surf addicts and myself. A short excursion of the coastline revealed plenty of quality points, reefs and beachbreaks. We had our boards shipped up to us and in no time we were shredding uncrowded waves up and down the coast. We were working shifts 24 hours on and 48 hours off. Plenty of surfing time. The local surfers were total groms and soon we had an entire entourage of local groms and girls following us around like puppy dogs. We were in heaven.
Our main duty in the navy was sitting at this lighthouse watching the radar for any 'enemy' ships coming near the coast as we were pretty much at war with Angola and the communist's at the time. In the mornings a speedboat would drop us off and the next morning the next shift would replace us. It was a very boring 24 hours especially when we could see a solid swell at the beachbreak out front. At the crack of dawn we would be pacing up and down the jetty waiting for the boat to arrive, frothing to get back to camp to get our boards and hit the waves. Now that the cat is pretty much out the bag we didn't even have the slightest clue what we were leaving behind about 3 km to the south of us for 13 MONTHS!!!!!
It's like living at Kitchen Windows and thinking you are in heaven when Supers is reeling off, day after day, without a single soul in sight around the corner. We are talking about what is arguably the best barrel on the planet!!!!!!!! They say ignorance is bliss, what you don't know can't hurt you, but it fucking hurts like Hell.
Sven
Got something to say? Then leave a comment!
Posted by Anton on the 08/10/2012 08:32
take it easi there, sven. you probably weren't missing out on anything: http://www.swellnet.com.au/news/3202-skeleton-bay-the-death-of-a-wave-foretold
on the other hand, the discovery of bali pretty much went like that: Ulus was found and surfed for a long time before guys found padang nearby. Bingin was kept as a secret for quite a while, and belangan was discovered only after someone looked at average dreamland and wandered over the next headland.
Posted by sven on the 08/10/2012 10:24
hey Anton
During our boring 24 hour shift we did scout the area a bit for waves and never saw anything with potential. I do feel a little better checking out the link you sent but unfortunately the date gaps in the photos don't give a clear veiw of the state of the sand in 87/88.
It might not have been as good as it is now but
the top of point still could have been epic.
No-one knows.
At the time we were getting a salary of R200 a month which meant our boards were repaired until they couldn't float anymore. I don't think we could have 'afforded' to surf there.
Sven
Posted by Ian on the 08/10/2012 17:43
HI Sven ,sad story dude .Mine worked out a little better .I happened to spend my last 6 months of my 4 year ''PF'' STINT in Walvis Bay at that same time .At the time if you intended to leave at the 4 year mark , you had to give 6 months prior notice .I happened to be working as a PTI and when i gave notice of intention to leave it was the perfect opportunity for them to make sure my last 6 months would be hell.My sentence ,Walvis Bay to termination of service .It was the ultimate kak draft .With no options but to go , i made sure i got to take my toys [as permanent member ,you were entitled to ] which included my trusty beach buggy ,loaded with the latest in high tech surf sailing equipment .This was my thing at the time ,surf sailing was peaking ,guys like Johnny Paarman ,Titch Paul ,Gary van Rooyen,Steve Riley,ect were pioneering Mistyt Cliffs ,Crayfish factort ,Dunes ,Outer Kom ,so good waves were bieng ridden .I was trailing these guys and came from a surfing /kneeboarding background so basically knew that as long as there coastline and wind i would still find spots to sail .What i did,nt realise is that i would be sentenced to sail this spot alone ,for 6 months .There was absolutely nothing for me to do in my Naval capacity,so i would show face in the mornings and by lunchtime i would climb into my buggy and drive out to what was known then as Donkey Bay .I was told of its existence by Alan Louw.Those who know Walvis will surely know of the Louws.Alan +Monica had a son Steven [ i think ], who was the up and coming windsurf champ from the area .Sadly we never met ,however Alan told me about the spot and suggested i check it out .The rest is history .I did manage to convince 2 guys from Durbs to come out there with me once ,however they took one look and laughed it off ,and never came out with me again .Bet the'yre bummed now
Posted by sven on the 09/10/2012 08:19
hey Ian
I was hoping you were going to tell me that in 87/88 there was just a shitty close-out there and make my year!!!! The second we got off duty we fetched our boards, walked straight out of the camp and went to Swakop. Slept in our board bags on the beach. I think I actually only slept 3 nights in my bed at camp.
So jealous you were organized and had it with no-one there. We still had good waves and a memorable time.
Posted by Rian on the 11/10/2012 14:06
eh brah - no worries. in 87/88 i was two years old and just learning to stand up on a surf board. If it weren't for you ous, who knows - we could all have ended up as a bunch of boogers. I salute you either way.
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It's like living at Kitchen Windows and thinking you are in heaven when Supers is reeling off, day after day, without a single soul in sight around the corner. We are talking about what is arguably the best barrel on the planet!!!!!!!! They say ignorance is bliss, what you don't know can't hurt you, but it fucking hurts like Hell.
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When being brave isn't quite enough!
30/09/2012
Big wave spots are by their very nature intimidating places, the waves are rapidly moving apartment block sized hunks of blue liquid, the impact zone is a churning mess of foam and eddies and the topography of the ocean floor is best left unconsidered. Especially in the Cape, where what lurks beneath is treated by the simple principle: out of sight is out of mind. Bay View might not be Dungeons or Sunsets, but it’s still no place for the faint hearted.
The battered sentinel watching over Bay View on a less postcard perfect day.
Big wave chargers no doubt have to overcome their perfectly rational fears, in order to force themselves down the faces of those massive waves. Confidence in their abilities takes the edge, of razor sharp blind panic, off it somewhat, but still the basic human survival instinct must be screaming: “Get back!”
It’s a little voice of reason, distilled from the ingrown wisdom produced by millennia of successful breading and surviving. Some people however, have locked whoever produces that little voice in a padded cell deep within the dark recesses of their minds. One such individual is my dear friend, Ryan Hill. Perhaps it’s being stuck in Upington for months on end which played havoc with his sensibilities, but in hindsight, paddling out at 10 to 15 foot Bay View wasn’t a great plan, at that particular point in time for him.
What made it so was the fact that he didn’t have a board for it and being unwilling to risk his standard 6’2”, decided to lend a board from Mark. Now the only board Mark was willing to part with was the 6’5” he first learnt on, which, having started its surfing life sometime in the late 90’s was rather yellow and soft around the edges. Ryan wasn’t the only one paddling out on a borrowed board however.
Pat Le Vieux too was on a borrowed stick, though his at least was a 7’ something semi-gun, belonging to Bjorn Von Der Heyden, designed for those bigger days at the Kom. Only the main instigator, of the Bay View mission, Bjorn was appropriately equipped for the magnitude of the task ahead. But he needed sidekicks for the surf, because with whales calving in the waters below the scenic Hermanus cliffs, other less benign behemoths might well be lurking just beyond the breakers.
It was one of those rare days, absolutely wind-still with long period ground-swell ranging in from the South West, perfect conditions for pretty much every spot up or down the Cape coast. Bjorn had chosen Bay View and convinced Pat to join him, Ryan needed no convincing (nor would he listen to arguments for the merits of exercising caution). As for the rest of us, it had all the makings of a spectacle, so we abandoned our surfing plans and accompanied for ‘moral support’ or the (disquiet) hope of seeing something heavy. With the cliffs overlooking the break so close to the action, it is a better spot to witness big wave bravery from than a pitching and rolling boat in the channel at Dungeons.
From our perch up on the cliff tops we watched as Bjorn, Pat and Ryan made the jump and paddled across to the take-off spot, nerves clearly evident by their initial deep and wide choice of waiting point. Bjorn eased into the session, easily stroking into a couple of smaller 10 footers, letting his rhino charger do the work form him. Pat had to work a little harder for his waves and moved in towards the peak to get his first wave. Ryan meanwhile was scratching like a man possessed, but to no avail. He simply couldn’t gather enough momentum to force himself over the crest and down the swiftly moving waves. Egged on by Bjorn he kept moving further inside, waiting for a wave sheer enough to negate the need for a bigger board.
Bjorn easily setting his line.
This could have proved a disastrous error, but fortunately for Ryan an eight footer came through before a 15 foot clean-up set did. That was where his good fortune ended though. He scratched up enough speed to launch himself down the face, navigated a small bump near the crest and then half way down came spectacularly unstuck. Hitting boil induced chop he was flung forwards, fins free of the face, his board shot out ahead of him and as his head reconnected with the growling wall of water behind extending his leash to its maximum. Stretched taunt the frayed old Velcro wielded without much of a fight, leaving Ryan to be mauled without floatation while the board bounded unhindered towards the rocky shore.
What happens when you come under-gunned
Up on the cliffs we were powerless to help, Ryan though seemed less than concerned. Unable to navigate the entry point without a board he swam back to where Bjorn and Pat were trading waves. He wouldn’t have to wait long for company in the category of bad locations to be without a floatation device. So perhaps it was better that the pack of seals following him dissuaded him from attempting the swim around the corner to the Old Harbour.
As if our nerves on the cliff top were not tested enough, by one swimmer in the water, Pat soon joined Ryan among the board-less. Having grown in confidence throughout the session Pat was given a little rude reminder by Neptune. Reliving it later Pat claimed the wipe-out wasn’t too bad, but when he surfaced he discovered only half the board tethered to his ankle. What did cause him and, to a lesser extent I’m sure, us, a few moments of panic was the fact that the loop of leash attaching him to the tail of the borrow board was entangled in a particularly stubborn kelp frond. He therefore took three involuntary deep dives and kelpy underwater swattings, as the remainder of the set which broke the board poured through. After the third wave he cut his (and Bjorn’s) losses and undid the leash, leaving the remaining half a board to the mercy of the ocean.
Pat with the pieces of Bjorn's semi-gun.
On the cliffs, by this point we were in a state of nervous angst so palpable, that static electricity could have been harvested off us. We were toying with the idea of calling the NSRI, but the knowledge of stern words from the local chief, foolishly kept us from doing the right thing.
With three surfers and only one board between them even Bjorn was forced to admit defeat and so the three of them turned for the shore. With Bjorn semi-towing the swimmers like two giant rapalas. Traversing the ledge which forced Ryan to swim back out to sea earlier proved tricky, but somehow they managed with no bloodshed. Only luck and the brute strength, produced by the fear of knowing that hanging on at all costs to the tumbling mass of surfboard and flesh around them, saw them through the gauntlet of foam and razor sharp reef.
Once safely back on dry land we all relaxed and had a laugh at the seriousness of the situation. All of us, except Bjorn that is, he was not impressed at being a board worse off than he started the day. And though Mark and I managed to salvage the pieces, the damage was irreparable. So Ryan claimed them hopeful of being able to cannibalise the foam, though the pieces have yet to emerge as a wave-riding tool.
Mark recovering the pieces.
But I suspect they will, eventually, perhaps as some mutated fish inspired dumpster diver type board with massively large fixed fins, a pin tail and uneven dimensions. He will no doubt try to charge his Frankenboard at a heavy, seldom surfed reef and come painfully short. Then perhaps, he’ll learn that equipment is as important as having big brave balls, though knowing Ryan, somehow I doubt it.
TheBOMBsurf wants to publish your crazy surfing adventure.
We’re looking for adventurous surfers who can write.
Anything goes, but we’re looking for well written pieces, not cliché ridden crap or rehashed packaged tours.
This is a non paying gig, but it aims to provide a platform for new writers to be discovered and for old writers to have some fun.
Ideally your story is between 500 and 1500 words long. If you have some images (not more than 5) to go with it, that is a bonus. Images need to be supplied with captions and photo credits.
Entertain us and the rest of the readership grandly and you might find yourself on the mother of all surf adventures next year as the designated scribe of the trip.
What are you waiting for?
All submissions to john@thebombsurf.com
Preferably on a word document with images attached as separate low res jpegs with the captions and credits in the ID.
Got something to say? Then leave a comment!
Posted by Rian on the 30/09/2012 19:45
Shot for the story, very refreshing - you rock! i was just starting to think i was seeing a trend - indo, indo, indo. Sheesh - thank goodness we're back in Africa. i sommer blow my borrowed vuvuzela. Stoked. but seriously, a 6'5"? - yoh bru...
Posted by Pat on the 01/10/2012 10:33
Shamey nice one, what an epic day! The boys definitely have some great and interesting stories!
Posted by Dr.Zeek on the 01/10/2012 10:48
Ja boys...you do know that for many years a certain Bobby Selkirk held the record for catching the biggest great white.
Where, you may ask? Walker Bay.
With every ex-fisherman from Gansbaai chumming like mad for cage-diving tourists, you can be sure that Hermanus is overdue a johnny "incident".
Nice work on the story, tho. Keep 'em coming.
Posted by Karl on the 01/10/2012 12:04
Epic story Shamey!
Posted by Uncle Sean on the 02/10/2012 00:19
Hope you win the "mother of all surf adventures scribe" prize.
Posted by Boskak Basson on the 03/10/2012 09:43
Another well-written piece- well-done Alpha Wolf..! Next time I want to see you out there charging with the boys on your 5'11...
Posted by Deepika on the 06/10/2012 04:38
I too love this travel crib! Having just come back from an oelvry ambitious 10-day trip up and down CA with a five-month-old, involving multiple hotels and a vacation rental, I can honestly say that I would rather lug this along (it's actually pretty light) than borrow a pack n' play or crib from a hotel again. They varied so much in quality and safety that I was actually afraid to put my baby in a few of them. Shoddily put-together, old, stinky, rickety, hard to sleep on, and in one case the mattress cover wasn't even fitted just a too-big sheet stuffed around it and tucked in at bottom. I'm no paranoid mom, but even I could see this was a suffocation hazard waiting to happen. And we're talking nice hotels here! For safety and consistency's sake, I recommend investing in a travel crib you like and bringing it along with you every time.
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I agree, a great post and a great reminder. It reimnds me of advice that one of my mentors gave me over 15 years ago: Greg, when you take care of the minutes, the hours will take care of themselves. And here's another quote relating to this that I've heard that I like: Inch by inch, life is a cinch. Yard by yard, life is hard.
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.you do know that for many years a certain Bobby Selkirk held the record for catching the biggest great white. Where, you may ask? Walker Bay.
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.you do know that for many years a certain Bobby Selkirk held the record for catching the biggest great white. Where, you may ask? Walker Bay.
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