DogMan is in Hawaii until March! He might update the Chronicles and answer email from there, but then again maybe not. Severe case of Hang Loose and Aloha makes sitting in front of a computer seem to be irrelevant! Until he returns, you can enjoy a new feature article each Friday. Pacificwaverider editors *insisted* the DogMan write ahead for all you faithful readers in cyber-surf land. Send email to DogMan, and he's promised to read it when he returns in early March. At the very least, DogMan promises to return to the mainland with lotz of island pix, and lotz of island stories and reports.

Here's a true tale from a few years back. Been to Maui? Then you'll recognize the landmarks. Seen Maui's North Shore during a major Winter swell? You'll realize the danger and seriousness of this account.

My wife and I try to spend a few weeks each Winter on the Valley Isle. Usually we visit in February, and stay in Kihei. Surfable waves are not plentiful in Kihei in Winter, so I put a lot of miles on the rental car while dawn patroling. I like to cruise the NW coast toward DaBay, and the Hana Highway along the North Shore looking for waves.

Ho'okipa is world famous, mostly as a wind surfing spot. It's a wide-open spread of many breaks, along a stretch of sand and volcanic rock to the East of the town of Paia. It's over 3000 feet East of a famous beach front restaurant called Mama's Fish House.

Ho'okipa is one of the most dangerous places I've ever surfed. Just paddling out can be an adventure; swirling currents, fickle channels, pounding unforgiving waves. I have experience surfing there over many years and different conditions. I know some of the local tricks for negotiating the lineups, the shallow reefs, and for paddling out.

Read the Chronicles before? Then you know I like to super dawn patrol, to get out there first. Gotta get my waves, get out and get home before the real crowd fills the lineup. This particular morning I was standing on the bluffs at Ho'okipa in the darkness, staring at the large powerful waves that were bombarding the lineup. I weighed my options, wondering whether it was worth a go, or if it was too big and dangerous for me.

So several local surfmobiles pulled into the parking lot. The boyz gathered in small groups greeting each other, and considering the situation. From what I could overhear, it sounded like a go. I had visions of many people filling the lineup early; this spurred me on. I pulled on my spring suit, grabbed my board, and ran for the shore.

Waited for an opening, jumped in and paddled out. I used the local trick of hidding behind the rocky jutting point on the West end of the sandy beach. This is one of the few channels; you can paddle a ways before pushing beyond the protection of the point and suffering exposure to the full fury of the breakers.

Right away things went bad. The force of the ocean was beyond anything I'd imagined. Powerful waves inside the point began to dump on me. The waves and the current dragged me away from the sandy beach, and toward the rocky point. The point itself was pounded by the waves, with spray jumping vertical like many psycho geysers.

Looked over my shoulder, and a cold shiver ran through me. All the locals had jumped back in their cars and driven away! I was all alone out there in the darkness, caught in a very bad location without a lot of tricks left up my sleeve. Sets of large intimidating waves were breaking everywhere, inside, outside, left, right. I was being dragged ever closer to the dangerous rocky point. Because of the strong current it was impossible to paddle back to the beach from where I had launched.

So I took stock and made a plan. Number One on the list was DON'T PANIC!! I realized I wouldn't help my cause by freaking out. Number Two on the list was GET AROUND THE POINT! There was no Number Three on the list.

Put my forehead on my board, took a deep breath, and began to paddle strong and steady for the horizon. I couldn't stop the current from dragging me West toward the craggy point, but I might be able to paddle out far enough to clear it as I went by. Duck dived many waves and tried to come up the back sides still stroking. I had to make some progress into the ocean to survive.

All thoughts of actually riding any waves had long since vanished. I wanted to live! No time to think, just execute the plan. Outward progress was slow against the powerful Pacific Ocean. With just a few feet to spare I avoided the rocky point, its submerged shoals, and the incredible surge. The current went from enemy to friend as it pulled me sideways along the extreme tip of the point.

Whew! No time to rest, but I congratulated myself on not giving in to panic, and strategizing my way around that point. Spread out in front of me was an endless coast line of shallow reefs and sandy beach, and an unlimited supply of killer waves coming in from all angles. The Westerly current still had me in its grip, but now I had some room to maneuver.

I angled slowly in toward the shore as I was pulled along the coast. I kept my eyes peeled to the North, and stayed out in the deep water until I could find a channel (not likely) or a lull between sets (also not likely). For a moment I considered riding one of the monsters into the beach, but gave up that idea as foolhardy. Soon enough I was square in the impact zone, from where there was no turning back.

I turned to fully face the shore, and paddled hard. Being tired and out of breath was not an option. I glanced over my shoulder now and again to see if a killer wave was bearing down on me. Some of those bad boyz had 15 to 20 foot faces and were breaking top to bottom. I didn't much care what particular piece of reef I encountered, since it all looked the same, and the current had more bearing on the situation than my paddling.

Somehow the real mackers avoided me, even though a few smaller ones smacked me pretty good. I got inside the main line of breakers, and found a hole in the reef for my final shore assault. I stroked through the reef, found my footing in the shallow water, and crawled exhausted onto the beach. I collapsed on the sand panting and shaking. Finally I gave in to fear.

After many minutes I climbed up from the beach and over the knoll to see.... Mama's Fish House! I had been dragged down the coast over 3000 feet before I could make it back to shore. Wow! The place wasn't yet open, so it was deserted and no one saw me.

I walked back along the Hana Highway with my board to the Ho'okipa parking lot. People in the cars driving by looked at me with curiosity. Back at the rental car I changed, and thought about my options. The sun had not yet risen, and I had survived a really scary episode. With more light in the sky I could see the true horror of the lineup. No one was out, no one was considering going out, what was I thinking?

Drove back to Kahului, got some coffee, and headed for Kihei, resolved not to tell my wife about it. Didn't want to scare her, and didn't want her to worry when I dawn patroled the next day. In fact it was several years later on another Maui trip that I first related this story.

I'm not anxious to repeat this experience, but there are several positives:

CU Out There,

DogMan