The tropical sun shone brightly, in-shore I could see the palm trees swaying slightly with the light offshore breeze. The water was crisply clear, slightly green. The swells were rolling in with a regularity I had not witnessed in years. I was winded from the paddle out, but that was to be expected from the years of non-practice.

The waves were bigger than I had thought from watching them from the shore. They had first appeared head-high on the bigger waves in the sets. From the prone paddling position, they had looked even bigger. Watching the few other surfers out left no doubt that head-high was an underestimation. This was clearly more than I had bargained for. What was I doing here?

Twenty years ago, I would have rejoiced at the conditions. I would not have hesitated at taking any of the waves rolling in. Now, twenty years older (and several pounds heavier), I was seriously questioning my sanity. Back then I had been surfing regularly. Following high school I had gone inland to college. There I met the lady that would become my wife and deliver my children.

Back then, I had always assumed that I would return to the beach after college and pick up life where I had left off. Due to the draft, at the time, I thought it best to stay in school. Following graduation, after Viet Nam had ground down to a halt, I had found a job that I had convinced myself would only be temporary, until I could make it back to the beach.

Year after year, I found one excuse after another to put off the return. A year ago I transferred jobs to a location on the northeast coast of Florida. Within days of arriving I made my way to the beach only to be disappointed with the waves (or lack thereof). The surfers were using boards that were shorter than I was tall. In my out-of-shape condition, I knew that there was no chance of my using one of the shorter boards and I gave up getting back on a board. Until three days ago.

I had a bad morning, I woke up cranky and hollered at my wife and kids, my boss pissed me off for one reason or another and my car broke down. There were other things that happened until I found myself at the beach, trying to clear my head. Walking on the pier, I looked down and noticed a guy riding a board that looked normal to my middle-aged eyes. It was at least nine feet long and had very graceful lines. I don't know what came over me.

I waiting until he came out of the water and offered him two hundred dollars, cash, for the board. Within two hours I had grabbed a taxi to the airport with my new-used surfboard and departed the states to an island in the Caribbean that I used to frequent during surfing trips. I guess that the middle aged crazies had caught up with me, big time.

All that was good, I guess, but now I found myself on the wrong side of a break that could kill me. The waves were averaging eight feet, with occasional twelve foot sets coming in. I had no business being out there. I was going to die, and no one in the world, that I cared about, had the slightest idea where I was. No one here knew me, nor cared. Sanity had returned, a little too late.

I paddled about for a little while, just keeping my position off the beach, watching the spray blow off the top of the waves as they peaked and broke, thundering between me and the sanctuary of the beach. I could feel the sun beginning to take its toll on my back and shoulders (and to the top of my head, which no longer had its protective covering of hair). Something had to be done. I could have abandoned the board and swam in, but the surfer that I once was refused that option. I had come here to surf, and by god, I intended to take at least one wave, even if it killed me. Which it probably would.

I waited until a big set rolled through. The other five guys had picked off one wave each from the set and I was alone in the take-off zone. I waited for the bigger waves to pass me and that I knew would follow. I looked behind me as I paddled and saw what looked to be about a four footer building up behind me. I figured that I was a little outside where I needed to be to properly start my slide so I began to stroke the water deeper and harder. I felt the tail of the board lift to the wave, and the board started to slide. The sensation took me back two decades and instinct took over.

In the back of my mind I realized that the takeoff was a little steeper than it should be, but the exhilaration of the ride overrode the metal warning. Somehow I leapt to my feet and made the drop straight down the face. Reaching the bottom of the wave I started to lose my balance, leaning slightly to the right. The board dug into the water and the result was a carving bottom turn. I had tucked the rail into the wave and was rock-steady on my feet cutting across the wave just in front of the white water falling from the top of the wave. But something was wrong.

I had been watching my feet and the nose of the board race along the surface of the water. Now I started to raise my head to look at the curl. I was a little surprised when the top of the wave wasn't at eye level I was a lot surprised when I saw the curl a few feet in front of me, six feet over my head. The lip was peeling off the wave in front of me but I was going fast enough so it pounded into the trough somewhat behind me. I was in good position, just ahead of the break. I realized that I was safe, and the beauty of my situation began to set in. The curl peeling off the top of the wave throwing spray into the air took me back to better times. The curl was slightly ahead of me with the fall of white water striking the wave just behind the tail of the board.

Then it occurred to me to look down the face at the wall to see what was coming. What I saw scared me silly. There was another perfect curl, just like the one I was under, heading directly for me. The sight of the curl startled me, and I started to fall forward. The board I had purchased on the spur of the moment was a good design and mistook my surprised reaction for a request for motion. Before I realized it, I was climbing the wall pointed directly at the opposing curl. Time Froze. I didn't feel like I had any control over any part of my body. All I could see was this killer, grinding cone of water, approaching me, and I was rushing forward to greet it head first. I straightened up and dug in with my right foot while leaning away from the face of the wave. Again surfing instinct overcame twenty years of neglect. I came around in a carving cut-back, heading straight for the beach, directly between the twin curls as they self-destructed against each other.

On shaky legs, I rode the remainder of the distance to the beach and stepped off onto the sand. I picked up the board and turned around to contemplate the closeness of my demise. While I was standing there, promising never again to succumb to the mid-life crisis that had caused me to come here, I felt the presence of someone standing close. I turned and saw one of the young locals staring at me. I nodded toward him, hoping he wouldn't notice my shaking knees, or shortness of breath. As I looked back out at the break, he said "We didn't think you would take off on any." I looked back at him.

"We were taking bets that you would just ditch the board and swim in. You surprised us. That was one of the best rides any of us have ever seen." I nodded my thanks, afraid to talk, afraid the quiver in my voice would betray my condition.

I stood there for almost ten minutes just watching set after set of waves roll in. The waves didn't seem as good as they did at first. The trade winds were starting to chop them up. The curls were starting to mush out instead of peeling cleanly as they had been doing earlier. Between that, and the sun starting to feel very strong, I guess I overcame the middle aged crazies.

I packed up and drove the rental car back to the airport. As I settled back into the seat on the airplane for my trip back to the mainland, I thought about my surfboard. Although it had been a spur of the moment decision, I knew it deserved more than a single wave on a quick trip. For next year, after I have gotten back in shape, perhaps I'll fly to Hawaii. Maybe the North Shore will be more my size.

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