If I’m mad when I enter the water, she’ll let me know instantly: I’ll get hurt.
Today I was angry and knowing it, too, and as soon as I paddled out to the Ehukai sandbar, a surfer landed on my back with his surfboard. He launched up the wave, saw me there and kept going, and his board (and him?) landed on my back. I’m lucky he didn’t sever my spinal cord with the fins (just a superficial cut, but I’ll have trouble walking for next few days). And it freakin’ hurt.
About 2.5 months ago, I was super angry and jumped in the water with fins on at Rockpiles. I immediately smashed my face/nose on a rock in the shallow water. Broke it I think. That one hurt, too, and kept me dry for awhile, not to mention looking like a dumbass for weeks.
Just one more, I told myself for the 8th time in the Waimea shorebreak. It’s getting dark and my wife is waiting at home to eat dinner with the other kids, but what the hell — just one more. Over the falls and wham! — back slams down on the sand. Ouch.
Board fins slicing open a foot, lacerations across the back, a permanent Nike-looking symbol scar on my shin.
The ocean doesn’t like angry people, or at least me when I’m angry.
I respect that.