GEORGE SHILLITO
After allowing a passing frontal cloud some time to calm down, we decided to head to what we aptly called the ‘doom section’ where the outgoing river mouth smacks straight into the incoming swell, result – doom! On my first wave I completely mistimed just how quickly the outgoing river would force the waves to ‘jack-up’ and as I engaged into an all-or-nothing bottom turn I was faced with a thumping lip that promptly landed on my head, making short work of my mast!
After a quick re-rig I headed straight back out – perhaps a little too far! This time, as I gybed onto an even bigger and gnarlier set wave my kit took off from underneath me and a freak lip reared-up, ripping the gear from my hands. I was hopelessly thrown into the murky depths of the rogue swell getting tumbled deeper and deeper in the icy, washing machine-esque beast. As I surfaced my kit was long gone and as I swam to get my bearings, I was only allowed two strokes before the next lip careered towards me plunging me into the icy dark once more.
After many more poundings and a massive one hour swim I shamefully dragged myself up the beach to find a concerned Muzza was waiting for me. The two of us have sailed all over the world together in some big swells for years now and it is always great to have someone who you can fully trust if and when the time comes. Just after my kit got washed away I saw him sail towards me; he could see me swimming and tumbling out-back, he got half way towards me, apparently close enough to make the decision I was fine, saw the oncoming set and sailed-off back to the safety of the shore to await my arrival!
