30″x 72″ triptych, acrylic on canvas

As the storm moves further out to sea, remnant storm clouds hover over a wild ocean like a downy comforter over rumbled sheets. To the west, the cloud bank thins out to reveal a strip of golden sky, shooting rays from the setting sun across the ocean’s edge. Before its golden light begins its transformation to copper, pink and purple, it reflects and refracts off the water’s surface and the grains of sand suspended in the waves.

I choose a wave, the third in the set. With long, strong strokes I pull the water toward me and with short kicks of my fins, I try to get ahead of this wave. My survival instinct is screaming in my head to stop swimming, flex to back out as I look down the face of this wave. I ignore the warning in my head. I know how this wave will break – this will be fun! Several more kicks and strokes as I feel the engine of the wave begin to launch me. My head and shoulders jut out of the wave as I concentrate on keeping my body stiff with arms at my side; shifting my right shoulder slightly into the wave to fall across its face, as the wave begins to crash on my left.
I am flying!
The whitewater catches up to me, surrounding me with soft, bubbles like pillows floating me toward the beach. Sand scrapes my body to a halt. Exhilarated, I want more!

Running backwards, sand and stones fill my surf fins. What felt like pillows of bubbles a few moments ago are now crashing onto my back, pushing me back toward the beach where, common sense tells me, I should be. I manage to get out deep enough to dive under the oncoming whitewater. I try to swim further than the wash can push me back. Closer to the break the whitewater is stronger; waves are pounding with a thunderous sound. I must dive and swim deeper under the whitewater; I grasp handfuls of sand trying to get as much of my body to hug the bottom. I feel whitewater pull at my hair, roll over my back, grab a fin and I feel the tug. Kick! Don’t let it catch me. My lungs are aching, I need a breath. I vault off the bottom to pop my head out for gasp of air. All I see is a huge wall of water filling my entire view – no sky, no beach, just tons of fast moving water coming at me! Don’t panic. Swim toward it, get in a last breath then, dive deep, keep kicking. I come out the backside of this wave, the washing machine of whitewater is behind me and I am able to float over a smaller wave allowing me to breathe. In the trough, the water is heavy with sand; the backwash is pushing me parallel with the beach and out. Keep swimming out because another set is coming in!

This painting is my impression of being beyond the wash and the break, a dangerous place. A point too far out to change my mind and return to the safety of the sandy beach without being crushed by the next set. Too close to the break to be lifted over the larger oncoming waves. Going over the falls and getting clobbered in a wave’s spin cycle is enough of a threat to push through my breathlessness and tired muscles. Keep swimming…for another chance to fly!