The Last Waltz



	The setting sun cast an eerie red-orange glow on the horizon,
the water shimmered with its last rays.  I stroked out toward a
spot approximately one hundred yards off the beach, where a
group of eight surfers sat upon their boards - silently awaiting
the next set.  My board slid almost effortlessly over the
surface of  the water.



	"This is the last wave of the day" I thought to myself.  I was
about halfway out when I saw a huge set rolling in.  With quick
judgment, I estimated that these waves would break in my general
area.  I cursed under my breath.  I was in the spot known to
surfers as The Boneyard, the place where waves cease to exist,
where nature is seen in all her fury.  As the first wave
approached, I took a deep breath and pushed the nose of my board
into the water, trying to get as deep as I could so as to
prevent the intense turbulence from pulling me back toward the
beach.  The wave impacted, tons of water fell upon itself, and
it seemed as if the whole sea began to boil.  White froth formed
into an underwater cloud that surrounded me.  I could feel the
intense pull of the turbulence, like invisible hands trying to
pull me out of the water, back to the beach.



	I resurfaced and gasped for more air just in time to see the
white frothing lip of another wave about to break, again I dove
under water.  This second wave must have been bigger.  Its
initial impact forced me even deeper under water, then the
turbulence did just about all it could to tear my shorts away
from my body.  Again I resurfaced and again saw a wave ready to
assault.  My lungs burned, my muscles were almost too tired to
push myself back under water.  I came up panting, and saw that
the way was clear.  I began to stroke as fast as I could,
digging my hands deep into the water to get maximum thrust.  The
water still boiled in a bubbly white froth, and a salty mist
hung above the water.  The mist looked almost like a fog hanging
over a medieval battlefield, and in a respect, it was.



	I reached the point where the other surfers were and waited.  I
straddled my board and peered toward the horizon, studying the
swell patterns.  I quickly became entranced by the sun glinting
off the water, causing it to sparkle like jewels dancing on the
surface.  Being out on the ocean always gave me a solemn
feeling, because it was so powerful, yet can be so beautiful and
gentle at the same time.



	I snapped out of my reverie as I caught sight of an approaching
swell.  It was still too far away to tell exactly how big it was
or when it would begin to break, but instinct directed me to
begin paddling further out, because this was a big one.  I
resumed a prone position on my board and slowly began to paddle
out, trying not to let on to the other surfers what I knew.  I
wanted this wave for myself.  None of the other seemed to notice
until I was quite a distance from them.  The swell began to pick
up, rolling silently toward us like some kind of great entity,
bigger than a house.  Behind me I heard the frantic splashing of
surfers trying to move out of the way of impending doom.  I
grinned, I knew it was too late for them.  The wave began to
break to my left, so I aimed my board at an angle to the right
and stroked furiously, trying to beat the break.  A curious
chill came over me as I realized that this could be the biggest
wave I had ever caught in my life.



	When I felt that I was in a "safe" zone, I pivoted my board
toward the beach, and began to paddle hard.  I heard several
hoots and hollers of encouragement as the other surfers saw that
I was going for it.  It was MY wave.



	I felt the awesome power of the ocean as she seemed to pick me
up and lift me toward the sky so quickly my stomach tied itself
in knots.  I paddled a bit more and transferred some of my
weight to the front of my board.  I felt it picking up
tremendous speed.  I then pushed myself up into a standing
position and felt a cold rush of adrenaline as my board began to
drop toward the bottom of the wave, with me on it.  My arms
lifted into the air as gravity disappeared, and my heart seemed
to jump to my throat.  The hair on the back of my neck stood on
end as I saw the other surfers below me.  The air seemed to
become very still.  Several of my fellow surfers hooted once
again.  This was the biggest wave of the day, and I was on it.



	I hit the bottom of the wave and gravity had meaning once
again, but suddenly, TIME seemed to stop.  Everything moved in
slow motion as I looked over my right shoulder and saw the while
lip of the wave falling.  Tons of water hurtling itself over,
forming a perfect tear-drop shaped tube.  I pumped a sharp left
turn, trying to get at least halfway back up the face of the
wave.  I looked up and saw the crest of the wave far above me
start to foam, and I smiled, I knew I was in for a perfect ride.



	The world was shut out temporarily as the tube caught up with
me.  The rays of the setting sun shone through the liquid around
me, causing the inside of the tube to light up a beautiful shade
of gold.  I veered up and down the inside of the tube, carving a
white path, trying to keep my speed up, trying to avoid being
swallowed by something so beautiful.  The roar of the breaking
wave inside the tube was almost deafening, like being in an echo
chamber.  Compressed air blowing out toward the open end nearly
blew me off my board.



	I shot out into the open air once again and rode a bit on the
dying shoulder of the wave, steadily losing speed as I cruised
toward the beach.  I threw my hands into the air and screamed. 
That was the way I chose to end the day, in a graceful dance
with perilous nature, the last waltz.