The Big Swim

Curt Mastalka’s first movie, Sea Dreams, enjoyed some financial success. He plunged right into his second one, titled Red Hot Blue. He was a one-man show, doing the entire process on his own. Scripting, filming, editing, producing, marketing … Curt did the whole ball of wax. He also was an amateur pilot, and he asked Barry Kanaiaupuni, Rory Russell, and me if we would fly over to the island of Kaua’i to film a sequence for his new film. Curt had some information about a pending new swell, which would hit Kaua’i first. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but in hindsight I can’t believe any of us ever let ourselves be talked into it.

We arrived at the far end of Honolulu airport where the private planes were kept. Curt rented a Cessna 172, a single-engine plane with slightly more room than a VW Bug, but also slightly more flimsy construction. Somehow we stuffed three surfboards, Curt’s camera gear, and incidentals into the small cabin and crammed ourselves in after it. Curt was flying, BK sat in the co-pilot seat, and Rory and I were stuffed in the back with the rest of our junk.

A strong Kona storm had begun to move into the island chain, but we foolishly paid it no heed as we taxied down the runway while Curt called for clearance to take off. There weren’t any other single-engine planes flying in the bad weather that day, so we were quickly cleared to go. We lumbered up into the air, and I had my first inkling that this trip might be a mistake.

The labored roar of our one engine straining to keep the overloaded little plane aloft made conversation nearly impossible. To communicate at all required shouting. Curt was a decent pilot but without much experience. The weather didn’t help the situation. We flew into the strong southwesterly headwind, and the Cessna was buffeted horribly, bouncing up, down, and sideways.

I’m not much for flying and immediately began to feel nauseous. It’s roughly a hundred miles to Kaua’i, but it seemed to take forever. With the cloudy, stormy weather, there was a point midway where we lost sight of both O’ahu and Kaua’i. I hoped the gauges were all working properly, especially the compass and gas gauge. The relief was palpable when we finally saw the coast of Kaua’i. I believe there was a point when even Curt began to have reservations.

Landing in Lihu’e was a relief for everyone; it was great to get out of the crammed cabin and put our feet back on the ground. I was still woozy from the bumpy flight, so I delegated Rory to unload the equipment while Curt and Barry went to get a rental car.

We headed out of Lihu’e toward Hanalei, where we had planned to surf, but that prospect was looking unlikely due to the Kona wind conditions. We talked it over as we drove through Kapa’a and decided our only bet was Cannons in Ha’ena. Hanalei Bay, when we got there, was a mess from the onshore wind, so we just kept going, hoping for the best.

Passing the dry cave of Ha’ena, we could see the surface conditions were not ideal, but it looked like Cannons might be surfable. Finally, parked on the road overlooking the surf spot, we saw the waves were far from perfect. The north shore of Kaua’i receives northwest swells before O’ahu does. That extra hundred miles of ocean seems to do a lot of combing. The waves are smoother and cleaner by the time they reach Sunset Beach, Hale’iwa, and the Pipeline. The waves we were looking at were a little ragged, and it was apparent that this was not a very clean swell. The interval was close and the faces were bumpy.

Rory Russell and me laughing about one thing or another; with Rory there was always something funny going on. Photo: Jeff Divine

But we came to surf, so Rory and I told Curt we would paddle out if he wanted to film. Barry just shook his head; he had no interest in the rough-looking lefts. He had come on the trip with hopes of riding some of the long, clean walls at Hanalei, and the waves here at Cannons were a far cry from that.

While Curt set up his camera, Rory and I headed down to the beach. Since we were the only people around, I told Rory we needed to keep an eye on each other. The surf was in the ten- to twelve-foot range, not dangerous, but sizeable enough that there was a need to be careful. The tide was low, and the inside reef at Cannons was very shallow, the edge of it like a small wall. Jumping in was no problem, but I could see that getting back ashore would require some good timing, a little luck, and maybe a short climb.

The waves weren’t that bad. With no one else in the water, we could take our pick of the best ones, so we got some fun rides. Cannons starts at a definite peak so lining up was easy. I had surfed Cannons quite a bit in the late 1960s, but had not been back in the past few years. After a couple of waves, I started to feel comfortable again.

This was Rory’s first time here, but he followed my lead and matched me wave for wave. I got a little too ambitious and took one too late. It dumped me, and my board was gone. Rory caught the next one and made it. As he paddled back out, I yelled to him if he could see whether my board had gone in over the reef or out in the rip. He sat up, looked in, and told me my board was up on the reef. The choppy water made it hard to see for myself, so I took his word for it and swam in.

I got in to the reef’s edge without incident, but it was tricky trying to get up on top. Eventually I timed a surge just right and let it carry me up over the wall on to the dry reef. I looked for my surfboard where Rory said it would be, but it wasn’t there. I looked all over but no luck, my board was gone. I whistled up to Curt and BK and saw Barry point out toward the channel. Looking out to sea, I caught a quick glimpse of my surfboard floating far out in the channel. I was used to long swims from far offshore breaks like Sunset Beach, so without a second thought, I dove back off the reef and began swimming to get my board.

As I swam further out the water began to change color. Near the reef it was green, but as I got into deeper water, it started to turn blue. About 200 yards offshore, I stopped to try to spot my board again. I saw it rise up on a swell, but it was still a good distance away. Again, without thinking, I put my head down and swam hard. I reached where I thought it might be and I stopped once more. My board was a little closer than the last time, but I still had a way to go.

The water had turned dark blue, and as I turned back toward shore, I was shocked by how far out I was. There was a rip running out to sea, and both my board and I were in it. I had to get my board or the next stop, if I was lucky, might be the French Frigate Shoals. I put my head down and swam hard. The water was so deep it had turned to black, and I began to have weird shark vibes.

I’ve always felt I had good karma with sharks, but I never took any dumb chances, giving them respect and a healthy distance in any encounters. This time I was putting myself right into their territory and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. To take my mind off the sharks, I started getting mad at Rory. It was his dumb ass that had gotten me into this situation. If he had just looked a little better and had actually seen my board before assuming it had just washed in, I wouldn’t be in this predicament. Cursing him, I swam like I was in a race.

The water was black and ominous. I was a mile out to sea when I finally saw my surfboard just ahead. A wave of relief washed over me as I grabbed it and climbed aboard. A surfboard is probably the best life-saving device for any open-water situation. A boat with an operational means of propulsion is better, but if that boat is broken down, even with a paddle, the occupants are at the mercy of the currents. If the paddler has experience, a surfboard can be paddled at a decent rate of speed, usually fast enough to overcome most rip currents.

I was so pissed off at Rory that I could have paddled against any rip just to get my hands on his throat. As I got closer to where he was sitting in the lineup, I started yelling at the top of my lungs. Later Rory told me he thought I just went in after my board and never came back out. Then he heard me screaming at him from out in the channel, figured out that he had screwed up and what had happened. Being Rory, he panicked when he realized how mad I would be. He caught a wave and went straight in before I got to him.

By the time I got back to the beach, my anger had cooled. Back on the beach, I found Curt and Barry both laughing, having witnessed the whole episode. I didn’t see Rory, so I asked them where he was. Curt told me Rory was so scared that he had quickly changed his clothes and hitchhiked back to the airport hoping I would cool down by the time we got there. We had a good laugh about what had happened while we packed up our stuff and headed back to Lihu’e.

We didn’t get the waves we hoped for that day, but we did have some good laughs. I kept Rory thinking I was pissed off at him, and he acted like my slave, doing anything I asked him to, giving me any wave I wanted. But it wasn’t long before the fear wore off, and Rory was his old selfish self, hogging all the waves and taking off in front of everyone.