The Storm 1994 / Death Trap Kailua

CHAPTER X

After freeing myself from the hook and getting my breathing somewhat under control… I thought…

Now I have to free my feet from the foot straps. I knew this would be a grueling task because my legs aren’t made of rubber and aren’t flexible. The board was still twisted a hundred and eighty degrees relative to my stance, pressing against the water’s surface. The fin and the gliding underside of the board were pointing toward the sky, while the soles of my feet pressed against the deck from underneath. Beneath the board, which vibrated continuously on the water behind my back due to the strong wind, my calves were still pressed together. It still felt as if my feet were tied with a rope, though they were actually just stuck incredibly tight inside the foot straps. My stomach hung horizontally over the abyss, but I could finally move my hands freely while swimming. Massive raindrops continuously smashed onto my head like small stones, shattering on impact. The water flowed from my head, down my forehead, and over my tightly pressed lips like a waterfall onto the ocean surface. The splashing on the gray sea was deafening, and the wind howled. Everything before my eyes was gray. For what felt like an eternity, I had felt like I was trapped in a cage made of water.

The heavy raindrops bored deep into the icy-smooth, gray sea. All around the resulting holes, water droplets constantly sprayed up from the surface and into my eyes, forcing me to blink continuously.

Because visibility was barely a meter and a half, and it was pouring buckets, I had to be careful now. If I pulled my feet out of the straps, the wind was so strong it could rip the board away from the mast. If the board detached from the mast, I would be lost out here forever; even with better visibility, I would never be able to catch it.

Because my mast hung almost vertically in the depths, firmly attached to the board, preventing the board from sinking—though it still clattered wildly across my back—and because my stomach was still horizontal over the abyss while I continued to swim with my left hand, I held onto and braced myself against the mast at hip level with my right hand just to keep my head above water. Instinctively, I pulled my calves up toward my thighs to get even closer to my board. Then I twisted my left shoulder forty-five degrees toward the board, which tensed and twisted my abdominal muscles like a spring. By bracing myself on the mast with my right hand, I felt the sail and mast tip sink even deeper—they were already almost three meters down.

Once I grabbed the edge of the board with my left hand, my right shoulder was completely submerged. My abdominal muscles remained twisted tightly like a spring. All the while, my face—with my eyes closed and lips pressed tightly together—took the full force of the downpour on the left side.

Pushing the board away from my back with my left hand, I first tried to pull one foot out of the foot strap while keeping my calves pressed together. It was a painful endeavor, as my spine was practically contorted.

It took me at least a minute or two to finally pull one foot free from the tight strap. When I managed to awkwardly free my second foot with great effort, the board launched over my head like a rocket, carried by the wind. Because I was holding the board by one of the foot straps with one hand, I unconsciously managed to prevent it from hitting my head and injuring me. Now, hanging from the board with one hand, I pulled it toward me and grabbed the second foot strap with my other hand.

As I tried to briefly relax for the first time in the middle of the downpour, with visibility reduced to a meter and a half, my feet dangled over the abyss for a while as I held onto the foot straps with both hands. At the same time, the underwater current dragged the sail eastward, causing it to shift from the depths and slowly surface—something I didn’t realize at the moment because the sail had simply been too deep underwater.

The board, which had flipped over again when it flew over my head, had to finally be turned right side up so the fin and the gliding surface were facing down into the water. The massive raindrops splashed loudly all around me. It poured relentlessly, like buckets emptying from the sky.

While I fought the wind and the board in my hands on the water, the board clattered wildly and continuously against the smooth surface. When the heavy raindrops struck the hard blue board, they exploded, turning into a fine white mist that was immediately blown away by the wind right before my eyes.

The dull thud of the drops hitting the blue board sounded completely different from the loud splashing on the gray ocean surface. These raindrops hit my head with the force of small stones, a true ordeal for my scalp and hair roots. At the same time, the water continuously flowed down my forehead, over my eyes, and across my closed lips like a waterfall. The wind whistled in my ears.

Because I held the board with both hands right in front of my face, trying to turn it over, the constant barrage of raindrops hitting the board forced me to blink constantly like a pair of shutters.

While I was busy flipping the board, the underwater current caused the sail and mast tip to rise from their vertical position back up to the surface. Once I had the board right side up, I quickly climbed onto it to catch my breath.

Sitting on the board with my back to the wind, I realized that in this position, my back was catching an incredible amount of wind; my back was acting like a small storm sail.

At the thought that the wind might blow me out of the bay and into the open ocean, I panicked and jumped off the board. Back in the water, I leaned my back against the edge of the board while pressing my elbows onto the deck. Because I had no idea what might be swimming in the ocean here in Kailua Bay during such a heavy downpour, I decided to pull my feet out of the deep water and rest them on my sail. I lifted my feet from the depths and placed them on the soft, black boom grip. In this position, my feet were propped up on the boom grip in the air above the sail, with only my rear end submerged in the water. Now, only my shoulders and head were exposed to the wind.

It poured buckets.

The heavy raindrops slammed into the sail with full force, making a racket that sounded as if several people were holding a sheet of aluminum close to my ears and shaking it violently. I stared over my feet, across my pink sail, and into the dense rain. With visibility reduced to a meter and a half, I stared at the gray wall of water to the east for a while, feeling as if I were trapped in a gray water cage.

My ears constantly picked up several different sounds. I could simultaneously hear every single raindrop from the downpour splashing onto the smooth surface and plunging deep into the gray sea, creating a “Plop!” sound upon impact.

The second sound was the wind whistling in my ears. Since I was pressing both elbows onto the board, my ears were close to the board, just about ten centimeters above it. I could clearly hear every raindrop exploding on the board with a dull thud. Upon impact, these large, heavy drops turned into a white mist that sprayed near my ears and was carried away by the wind. The third sound was the splashing of raindrops on the sail.

Even though I have a thick head of hair, every raindrop hit my head like a small stone, testing my scalp and hair roots. Because the water from the downpour flowed down my forehead and over my eyes and face like a small stream, I could barely keep my eyes open. I felt like I was living a nightmare.

Only then did I start to think clearly. I shook my head in disbelief, simply unable to comprehend what I had just done.

My first thought: Am I an idiot? What have I done? My next thought: Mischko and Nancy. They probably ran inside the house, are thinking about me, talking about it, and are surely worried. While the heavy raindrops flowed from my forehead over my eyes like a waterfall and I shook my head in disbelief, I sat speechless, staring continuously at the sail beneath my feet. With visibility down to a meter and a half, I stared into the dense rain at the gray wall of water, then down at my bare feet. They were propped up on the boom, hanging in the air. I could feel the impact of the heavy raindrops on my legs; my black wetsuit was getting a thorough washing in this downpour. Behind my back, my ears picked up the constant dull thuds of raindrops hitting the hard fiberglass board. Upon impact, they shattered into mist, which the wind then blew away behind my head. The only beautiful thing in this situation was my pink sail. The colors were cheerful and looked beautiful to me.

Ever since the sail had fully surfaced, the heavy raindrops hitting its film surface were the only thing bothering me right now, simply because it was too loud.

Several questions kept running through my mind. What did I just do? How long will this rainstorm last? Why did I break the rules of windsurfing? The rules explicitly state: Never go out in an offshore wind.

I looked back at the day, and all the memories replayed in my head… I remembered… I was actually bored all day. We went swimming a few times, but without the sun, it wasn’t much fun. It was just oppressive and drearily gray everywhere.

I remembered watching the black clouds lingering over the mountains behind us all day long.

Those black clouds must have been right over my head at that very moment. For the time being, I was relieved and glad that there was no thunder or lightning. That was the only thing I truly respected and feared on the water.

Somehow, in that moment, I wasn’t scared at all. Or at least, I didn’t feel nervous.

At the moment, I was thinking about the direction the wind was blowing me—toward the US West Coast, toward the east, where Los Angeles and San Francisco are located. A five-hour flight. It would be getting dark soon. If the rain actually lasted a long time, things could get critical.

I briefly thought back to our second year, when we first arrived here in Kailua. It had rained continuously for seven days, and I had been desperate. We specifically drove to Honolulu because we wanted to escape to Australia. When we were in Honolulu, the sun was shining. But on our way back from Honolulu, as we drove over the mountain, it was still raining in Kailua. Right now, I was internally hoping that the rain wouldn’t last that long today.

For a moment, I thought about the sea creatures and the movie Jaws. Then the thought crossed my mind: Am I bleeding anywhere? I thought back to my launch in front of Nancy’s house and the moment I walked over the reefs with the sail, holding the board over my head. I had stepped into that hole up to my hip in the white foam. It was possible that I had scraped the skin on my feet somewhere and was bleeding. So, I looked at my bare feet, resting about twenty centimeters in the air on the round boom grip. I saw no cuts and no blood. That was reassuring for the moment.

I thought about the movie Jaws a while longer. I remembered the scene with the great white shark—there had been gray clouds in the sky, and the ocean surface had been calm and smooth, just like it had been here in Kailua all day. In our bay today, there had been a dead calm, exactly like in the movie. Then I thought of the shark and its dorsal fin. These thoughts made me increasingly suspicious. I kept quiet, staring at the gray wall of water about a meter and a half away from me, and at the slick, icy surface of the sea.

I hadn’t seen a shark in the bay, either this year or the year before. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t here. Behind the military base in Kaneohe, there is a marine biology research center. They have a department that observes small hammerhead sharks, their development, and behavior.

To avoid scaring myself any further, I tried to think about something else. My thoughts drifted to about ten minutes ago, when I finally caught a good gust of wind and hooked into the harness. I had only enjoyed the speed for a few seconds before the wind surprised me, delivering an unexpected shove from behind, followed by a flight through the air.

I pictured my crash landing on the boom and couldn’t help but grin, feeling internally relieved that the boom hadn’t broken.

Then I thought of the panic when the board pushed me underwater from above, while I tried to keep my head above the surface with my right hand. By pressing down on the mast with my right hand, I had unconsciously jammed the boom deeper and deeper into the hook. My feet had been trapped in the foot straps behind my back as if tied to the board with a rope, while my entire body from my lower ribs down to my feet was stiff, frozen, and immobilized. The thought of my attempts to free myself and how often I had to dive resurfaced.

That this harness hook even fit over the round aluminum tube, and that it jammed so tightly… I just shook my head, wondering how that was even possible.

Next, I thought back and mentally replayed the entire scene of how it happened, of how I had essentially set the trap for myself.

While windsurfing, my harness hook is positioned at my lower rib, at least twenty centimeters below the boom, somewhere between the board and the boom. When the gust of wind hit me, the powerful shove launched me through the air, carrying me over the boom. My harness hook flew between the mast tip and the boom grip, and I landed with my arms outstretched on the sail, my head almost hitting the mast tip. I didn’t land below the boom with my harness hook; I landed twenty centimeters above the boom grip. My body weight then caused the sail to start sinking.

When I grabbed the mast with my right hand and leaned my almost fully extended left arm on the sail beneath the surface, the sail sank deeper. I tried to slide my body—and my harness hook—from the upper half of the sail, back over the boom, into the lower half. First, I felt my stomach rub against the boom. As I tried to push myself further back, I felt my first rib, where the hook is located. Because my stomach had rubbed against the round boom grip, and the hook is tight against that first rib, the boom got caught in the hook at that exact moment without me realizing it.

As the mast tip sank deeper, reaching an angle of at least forty-five degrees, I kept pushing myself upward with all my might using my right hand just to keep my head above water. In doing so, I forced the boom grip deeper and deeper into the hook until it couldn’t go any further.

The rubber on the boom grip is about two to three millimeters thick. As I kept pushing myself down with full force from the upper half of the sail, the rubber gave way. At that moment, I jammed and pressed the metal hook onto the round aluminum tube as far as it would go. Because the rubber was completely crushed, the round aluminum tube was practically pressing bare against the metal hook.

My ribs were practically welded to the boom grip. I had essentially set up a perfect death trap for myself, one that is one hundred percent unique on this planet.

While trapped in the downpour, in a water cage with visibility of a meter and a half, these scenes played in my head over and over again for the next fifteen minutes.

I then thought back to walking over the reefs in front of Nancy’s house and the moment I slipped into the hole up to my hip in the white foam. When the waves had pushed me against the reef, I had felt immense pain in my hip. Remembering it now brought the pain back, and I wondered if there was a tear in my wetsuit at the hip. For the first time, I looked down at the side of my neoprene suit. There was no hole visible on my hip.

Minutes passed as I stared at the icy, gray ocean surface, which was literally being perforated. The raindrops hitting the film of my sail were annoying, as that sound made the most noise. That worried me the most, because I knew the noise could attract curious sharks. I suddenly sat perfectly still and motionless; only my rear end was continuously submerged. How far out of the bay have I drifted? Water droplets splashed several centimeters high into the air from the holes.

After waiting for what felt like half an hour, it seemed as if the raindrops were getting smaller.

I looked to my left at the smooth, gray water. Indeed, the raindrops really were a bit smaller, and visibility had expanded to about two meters.

At the same time, I felt as if the wind was slowly and slightly easing up.

I started to wake up, gaining hope, and praying internally that my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. The longer I stared at the smooth, gray ocean surface to the left, I noticed minute by minute that the holes created by the raindrops really weren’t as big as before, and the water wasn’t splashing as high.

Maybe I should try a water start, I thought. I knew it was impossible to surf right now, but I had to try to get onto the board somehow. Who knows if I would have another chance later.

Even though visibility was only two meters, and it was still storming and pouring buckets, and despite my fear of the underwater world, I pulled my feet off the boom, placed them on the sail, and let my whole body fall between the sail and the board into the gray water.

It was strange being in the water, surrounded by a rain-gray water cage with two meters of visibility. Raindrops still flowed from my forehead like a waterfall, over my eyes and tightly pressed lips. After moving the sail into the start position, I dove under the sail and lifted it slightly off the surface of the water—twenty centimeters at most. My head was boxed in, the smooth, gray water at eye level and my pink sail resting on my head. Because the sail was resting on my head and I was completely underneath it, I finally stopped taking raindrops directly on the head. In return, the raindrops made an incredible noise, sounding as if several people were holding a sheet of metal over my head and shaking or vibrating it rapidly. With my head under the sail, I held the boom tightly with both hands and worked my feet underwater. When I placed my front foot on the board, my back was lying horizontally in the water. I had calculated what would happen next. If I lifted the sail just a bit higher out of the water and above my head, I knew I had hurricane-force winds at my back. This time, as I carefully lifted the sail only ten centimeters above my head, I expected the exact same gust and shove to my back at any fraction of a second.

Fully determined to attempt a start, I held the boom tightly over my head with both hands for several seconds while continuously working my legs hard underwater. My sail was about twenty centimeters above the sea’s surface. With extreme care, centimeter by centimeter, I raised the sail higher above my head. In the next fraction of a second, I felt the wind catch from below. Almost simultaneously, I placed my right leg on the board. My back was still horizontal, fully in the water. The moment I decided to carefully lift the sail just a bit higher—that’s when it happened.

I shot out of the water back-first like a bullet, placing my second foot on the board at the same time. Almost in that same hundredth of a second, I completely let go of the boom with my left hand. The wind pushed the free, empty side of the sail downwind.

With my right hand, I managed to keep my balance by grabbing the boom just near the mast.

Just as I let go of the boom with my left hand, almost in the exact same fraction of a second, I immediately grabbed the boom near its center with my free hand, just barely managing to keep my balance.

In this sail position and in that fraction of a second, my sail caught at most a quarter of the wind’s force.

At that moment, I was surprised by my own agility. This was my first water start attempt in a downpour and a hurricane-force wind. Even though my sail was too big for such winds, it worked.

Because I was only taking a quarter of the wind’s force in the sail and letting the other three-quarters pass by, the wind was simply still too strong to hook into the harness. Besides, the left side of my boom was quite far from my chest; even if I had tried, it would have been impossible to properly hook into the chest harness. Since the chest harness is the most important piece of gear for us windsurfers, I was standing on the board practically handicapped.

Therefore, with great effort, I held the boom solely with my hands and began to plane. I took an aggressive angle, pointing the nose of the board almost directly upwind.

As a result, my board wasn’t moving very fast over the water. Standing straight up on my board almost like a beginner, I surfed slowly, just trying not to fall in. Even though I was planing very slowly and barely moving forward, I knew I was getting closer to the beach meter by meter.

I was simply glad to be moving in this downpour; I just had to hold on and stay the course.

With visibility ahead of me maxing out at two meters, thoughts and memories came to mind of the many times I drove our car through dense fog in Europe. At the moment, it was unusually exhausting and difficult to surf without the help of the chest harness, constantly having to hold the boom with my hands. Minute by minute, calluses began to form on my hands, and they started to hurt so much I could barely hold the boom. It was true torture for my eyes and hands. I had been suffering internally for a few minutes, and for the first time, I heard myself groan out loud as the pain in my hands intensified.

So, I let the boom slip slightly forward out of my grip. The round boom now hung from my fingers like a fishhook. As the minutes passed, the constant pressure made my fingers feel like they were stretching longer and longer. Imagine lifting something very heavy off the floor and having to hold it while standing, using only your fingers, for an extended period. After a while, it becomes increasingly difficult, your fingers stretch longer and longer, and eventually, before you collapse, you have to open your fingers and let the weight drop.

That was exactly what was going through my head, because I knew I couldn’t hold the boom grip like this for long and would eventually have to drop the sail into the water. Minute by minute, my worst fear was coming true.

While I felt like I was driving a car without windshield wipers in dense fog, with visibility around two meters in this downpour, my fingers actually began to develop calluses and hurt.

Instead of dropping the boom into the water, I shifted my grip back to my full palms, right where the calluses had formed earlier and where I had previously felt pain.

Relief for my fingers; the pain vanished. I could now feel the calluses on my palms, but it seemed I would be able to hold out for a few more minutes.

Because of my pain and the effort of adjusting my grip, I was distracted for a while. Therefore, I hadn’t noticed that the raindrops had gotten even smaller. This increased my visibility to about two to three meters, a fact I only just realized. I started to observe the raindrops more closely.

Once I confirmed that my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me, relief spread throughout my entire body. Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, and hoping the worst was over, my adrenaline levels naturally dropped. When my water start had succeeded about ten to fifteen minutes ago in this hurricane wind and downpour, I had been internally happy and a bit relieved. Instead of the wind blowing me out into the open ocean, I was moving slowly toward the beach like a snail. Now that I saw the raindrops were smaller, I gained even more hope that I might survive the storm.

How far out have I drifted? passed through my mind. I prayed internally that I wouldn’t miss the edge of Lanikai. If I missed it and kept surfing blindly, it would mean moving away from land, because the next bay begins behind Lanikai. And that bend curves inward to the right. That would mean that instead of being thirty to forty meters from land, I would suddenly be at least two hundred meters away from the shore, entirely missing the island.

I held my course toward the beach and against the wind as best I could, which is why I couldn’t surf fast. Even if I could have surfed faster, I wouldn’t have dared, because visibility was simply too poor. At that moment, I just hoped I hadn’t surfed past Lanikai Beach. The calluses on my hands were hurting again, and I groaned. Terrified of tearing the skin off my hands, I let the boom slip back into my fingers, right where the calluses had just formed.

It was still pouring buckets, and the noise on the smooth, gray surface ahead of me was relentless. Visibility was still three meters at best.

After only a few minutes, I heard myself groan out loud again as the pain in my fingers intensified by the minute. The calluses on my fingers could burst at any moment, ripping my skin off.

While groaning loudly during these final seconds and focusing on my pain, expecting to have to throw my sail onto the gray, smooth surface at any moment… out of nowhere, something bright suddenly appeared beneath my board. For the first second, I couldn’t recognize it. In the second second, it looked as if someone had placed bright sand one meter deep right out of the fog in front of my board!

In the very next fraction of a second, the boom slipped from my fingers as I jumped between the board and the sail. While my sail flew out of my hands and downwind onto the water’s surface, before I could even feel the sand under the soles of my feet and while my knee was still submerged, my hand instinctively reached back and grabbed the board.

I was definitely not in Waimanalo, I knew that much. Whether I had stranded on one of the two islands off Lanikai, I couldn’t know at that moment because my visibility was still no more than three meters.

In the next fraction of a second, I heard myself exhale loudly. I was relieved, and at the same time, I finally felt the soft sand under the soles of my feet.

With one hand holding the foot strap, I walked against the strong wind, straight into the downpour, through the perforated, smooth gray water up to my belly button, dragging my gear behind me. The board emerged from the water behind me first, its tip dragging on the sand. To get my sail completely out of the water too, I took a few more steps up the small sand dune. As I dragged the sail over the sand, the thought hit me:

This can only be Kailua Bay.

Because I had walked slightly uphill out of the water onto the sand, I was now on land and slightly sheltered from the wind.

Still holding the board by the foot strap, completely exhausted, I sat down and immediately fell backward onto the soft, soaked sand, exhaling deeply. Lying on my back with my eyes closed, my first thought was: Saved! The pure stress and tension in my whole body evaporated. I felt relief wash over me as my adrenaline levels slowly dropped.

Lying on my back with my eyes closed in the middle of the downpour, I could now hear five distinct sounds: The loud hammering and splashing of raindrops on my sail film by my feet. It was still as loud as if someone were holding a sheet of metal in the air with both hands and shaking it back and forth. I heard the wind whistling softly; the dull thud of raindrops hitting my board; the splashing on the ocean surface; and the splashing on the soft sand right next to my ears.

My God, I thought. That is never happening to me again. Never. Relieved, in that moment I was the happiest person on earth. Since the raindrops were no longer as massive as they had been when the hurricane first hit me, lying on my back with my eyes closed felt genuinely pleasant on my face, almost like a strong shower.

Suddenly, I thought of Mischko and Nancy. They were definitely worried.

To be able to open my eyes again, I rested for a bit and sat up after about five minutes.

Shortly after, I stood up, intending to drag my gear a bit further away from the water. With one hand on the foot strap, I pulled the board and sail behind me over the soft sand. After taking my second step, I stopped, frozen, because a massive palm tree trunk stood right in front of me.

I looked up, shook my head, and grinned, realizing the fog effect a heavy downpour can create. I had been lying under a palm tree the entire time without knowing or seeing it.

Now I was certain: I had stranded in Kailua Beach Park. Only then did it truly sink in.

In addition to the five sounds, I now heard the loud splashing of raindrops on the palm leaves above my head, something I hadn’t noticed immediately. Six different sounds in my ears. Unbelievable…

Because the rain was still dense and heavy, I still couldn’t see the palm leaves above my head, but I could hear the drops hitting the leaves, and I recognized the trunk of the palm tree. I had to grin again. At that very moment, I placed my board back on the sand and sat down in almost the exact same spot. Now relieved and carefree, knowing exactly where I had stranded, I stared at my pink sail at my feet and the first two meters of the smooth ocean surface, which was all I could see from there. I looked further out over the water, up into the downpour, which still looked like thick fog. It was loud in my ears, especially on my sail. The steady, loud splashing of the raindrops on the smooth ocean surface now sounded almost as pleasant as music to my ears.

I thought of Mischko and Nancy again. If they knew I was here, they would come pick me up. But in that moment, I didn’t care about anything else. I was internally overjoyed and simply happy to be on land here at Kailua Beach Park. Even if I had to spend the night here, I wouldn’t have cared at all; after all, I was saved.

I knew I would have to walk the way home.

Since Kalaheo Avenue makes a long, sweeping curve to the right, it was definitely at least a two-mile drive from Nancy’s house to the Public Beach. Because walking along the beach was much shorter, I decided to take the shorter route later, assuming it stopped raining.

Minute by minute, the wind actually began to die down, allowing me to let go of the foot strap. The raindrops were getting smaller and smaller, and visibility was expanding. I looked up above my head. Now I could see the palm leaves, soaked from all the rain. The drops falling from the palm leaves onto my head were twice as large as the raindrops falling from the sky. After just a few minutes, my visibility improved even more. I looked far out into the ocean, and on my right side, the flat bird sanctuary island appeared, located about a hundred and fifty meters from Lanikai Beach. Another five minutes passed, and looking out over the fine sand to my left, I could see almost half of Kailua Bay.

Above my head, uninviting black clouds still loomed in the sky, slowly moving eastward and taking the rain with them.

Even though visibility had improved, it was still pouring buckets. The continuous, steady splashing of the raindrops on the smooth water remained very pleasant to listen to, though the raindrops on the sail were simply louder. While sitting under the dark sky looking out at the ocean, something unexpected happened on my left side. Curious, I turned my head in that direction. A sunbeam pushed its way through a small gap between the thick black clouds and the downpour, illuminating the sky. It looked as if someone had suddenly turned on a massive, ultra-powerful flashlight in the middle of a dark night.

In disbelief, I looked beneath the illuminated black clouds and realized for the first time just how black, threatening, and heavy the rain falling from them truly was. From the small crack and hole where the sun was positioned behind me to the west, my eyes followed the sunbeam. Second by second, it tried to penetrate through the downpour toward the ocean’s surface, but it was currently only halfway between the mountains behind me and the sea. I marveled at how clearly I could see the massive amount of rain still falling from the clouds, and how beautiful it looked in that moment.

It took at least two or three minutes for the sunbeam to finally reach the ocean.

Now, over the ocean beneath the black clouds, I watched the rain falling from the sky and noticed a tiny rainbow. Beneath the rainbow, on the ocean surface, the sunbeam illuminated a small circle of turquoise-green water, about fifty meters in diameter. The rest of the ocean’s surface remained gray.

Since we hadn’t seen the sun all day at the beach, I could hardly believe it. But almost as soon as I spotted the rainbow—less than half a minute later—it vanished, as if someone had suddenly switched off the giant flashlight, taking the beautiful turquoise-green image on the ocean with it.

Everything before my eyes was dark and gray again. I looked at the black clouds. It is unbelievable and eerie to see something so black in the sky. Still, I was able to see how close the sun was to the mountain where it sets every evening. I now knew exactly how much time I had left in the day. Every evening, the moment the sun drops behind the mountain, it gets pitch dark suddenly and instantly here in Kailua Beach Park.

I stared up at the sky continuously, searching longingly for another break in the clouds. It looked as if the sky had been covered with a black carpet.

Then I lowered my gaze, looking across the beach to my left, covered in white sand. Behind the sand, palm trees lined the beach. I still couldn’t see to the end of the bay, but the thought crossed my mind that I would have to walk in that direction. At the end of this beautiful bay is a canal about five to six meters wide.

This canal channels water from the mountains and all the rainwater into the ocean. Right now, the canal would likely be full of rainwater, dyed dirty red by the clay soil.

I looked at the first palm trees to my left. Most of them stood isolated on private properties. Seeing that the sun wouldn’t be coming out anytime soon, I looked back down, staring at the completely soaked sand and watching the smaller raindrops fall at my feet. Small water bubbles formed simultaneously on the sand.

Suddenly, I had to think again about the long walk along the bay. I had to carry all my windsurfing gear with me. At that moment, I felt a sudden urge to get up immediately and start heading home before it got dark. Just then, the sky to my left brightened once again.

I looked in that direction, and instantly, the urge to run home vanished from my mind. In a very short time, I found myself fascinated for a second time by the natural spectacle unfolding around me. While looking up at the thick, black clouds beneath the sun, I got the feeling that they were beginning to dissipate.

The quite long sunbeam pushed through the dense gray downpour behind my back, reaching down to the ocean once more. Even though I still couldn’t see the end of the bay, this time the sunbeam to my left was much stronger and larger, illuminating almost half of the bay. Unfortunately, the half I was on remained in darkness.

This time, the rainbow over the ocean was much larger. Along the illuminated half of the bay where Nancy’s house was located, the first fifty meters of the smooth ocean surface, as seen from the beach, consisted only of dark gray water. The second quarter of the smooth ocean surface along the illuminated bay, where the sunbeam had penetrated down to the ocean, was entirely turquoise-green water. The last two quarters of the illuminated ocean surface, heading toward the open ocean, were again only uninviting dark gray water, just like the half I was on.

To paint such a beautiful picture, a painter would need an incredible amount of imagination, I thought at that moment. I watched the downpour beneath the black clouds in the sky. The sun peeked out of the darkness, shining like a super flashlight through the downpour and over the ocean.

As my eyes remained glued to the smooth, turquoise-green ocean surface, captivated by the unfolding natural spectacle, the rain continued to splash relentlessly around me, and several minutes passed. A true Hawaiian downpour.

When I turned my head back up to the sky, I spotted two more rainbows that were slightly smaller. As the clouds slowly moved east, the small rainbows grew larger in slow motion. As these two rainbows grew, several smaller ones formed alongside the original three. I started counting. Seven rainbows in the sky, and the ocean was getting brighter and brighter.

Alongside the turquoise-green, blue spots were now visible on the water.

Gray and black clouds of various sizes and heights were now mixing in the sky. I could hardly believe it; the sunbeam slowly enveloped almost the entire bay. I counted all the rainbows again, one by one.

“Wow, is this beautiful!” I said to myself. Along the entire bay, everything was green with palm trees. This truly is a paradise… the thought instantly crossed my mind. I was deeply moved and almost had goosebumps. What a moment in my life. I felt as if I had just been reborn.

Finally, the sunbeam reached the spot where I was. Now almost the entire bay was bathed in sunshine, and more and more rainbows formed. Because of the different cloud heights, the rainbows were fragmented and stacked on top of each other. Some rainbows were very high, others lower down. They layered over one another, creating a true fireworks display in the sky.

The entire sky on my side was now a mix of two cloud colors. Beneath the black and gray clouds, you could see the wind driving the rain eastward.

As the clouds dispersed, the remaining gray water vanished from my sight far out into the open ocean.

Slowly, at the end of the bay, I could make out Nancy’s house.

The sea below across the entire bay was spotted with several colors: blue, turquoise-green, with only a few gray patches left.

I started counting the rainbows of various sizes beneath the clouds again. Because they were partially fragmented and stacked on top of one another, by the time I reached fifteen, I lost track. I stopped counting and just looked at the rest. There must have been at least twenty-five to thirty rainbows. In the distance, over the turquoise-green ocean, only a fine mist and drizzle were clearly visible. Because the black and gray clouds of various sizes were all mixed up, I could partially see the blue sky, then isolated smaller clouds in two colors stacked and separated from one another. Beneath the mixed clouds, only isolated patches of drizzle were visible, followed by blue sky. This is what created this true fireworks display of rainbows.

The splashing was no longer as loud, neither on the sail next to me nor on the water. Only isolated, heavy drops fell continuously from the palm leaves around me and onto my head. When these raindrops hit the sand next to me, they bubbled loudly, making holes in the water-soaked sand and creating larger water-sand bubbles. Looking high above my head before they fell, I could see isolated spots on the emerald-green palm leaves—washed clean by the downpour—where large drops formed, reflecting the sun. Because the light wind kept the palm leaves swaying slightly, the sun would disappear from the specific drops I was admiring, only to reappear and sparkle on several other leaves and spots.

Because the leaves were wet and green, and the sun repeatedly appeared and reflected in multiple places at once—these glittering rays flashing on and off across various drops—it created the impression that the rain-washed leaves were sparkling clearly in emerald green. It was like a fairy tale.

“Woooooooooooow, this is beautiful! This is a true paradise!” I said to myself.

My eyes were glued to the ocean once again.

Suddenly, I felt lonely and a bit sad, thinking of Mischko in that moment. I wished she were with me to experience this.

“This really is a true paradise.” After saying this aloud to myself for a second time, feeling a bit sad, I thought I heard voices. Voices? In this weather? So soon after the hurricane passed? Are my ears playing tricks on me again?

Are Mischko and Nancy seeing the rainbow right now? While asking myself these questions, I looked out at the ocean in front of me and heard only the soft splashing of the drizzle drops on the smooth water just a few meters from my feet.

Feeling so lonely, I suddenly thought of the adventurers, world travelers, and explorers like sailors James Cook and Christopher Columbus. When they traveled the seas for months and suddenly stumbled upon these islands, I imagined how happy they must have been to set foot on land in this paradise. Then they went home and told their tales of fairy-tale islands.

As I gazed in admiration at the icy-smooth water under the fireworks of rainbows, dreaming of the past, I thought I heard something again…

I pricked up my ears and listened. Am I longing for human contact so much that my ears are playing tricks on me? To be sure I hadn’t imagined the voices, I stood up and walked a few steps up the small sand dune.

When I reached the top and looked through the trees into the empty parking lot, I actually saw a parked car. The trunk was open, and a man and a woman were talking loudly. At that moment, the door opened, and a child stepped out.

I walked back down to my board and sat on the sand.

As I sat there, I thought about the parked car and the family. It was still drizzling quite a bit, but they were fiddling with their open trunk. After about three or four minutes, I heard the family even louder.

I turned my head to the left and saw them walking down the sand under the trees, about ten meters away from me.

As they walked straight down to the water, the father turned and looked in my direction. He was surprised himself, thinking no one was on the beach.

He smiled at me and took a few more steps toward the water with his family. They put down what they were carrying on the sand, while their two small children ran straight into the water, screaming happily.

Listening to them all talking loudly to one another, I recognized Spanish; judging by their appearance, they were Mexicans. Hearing them converse, I figured that when the storm hit, they had probably hidden and waited it out in their car.

Knowing the sun would soon disappear behind the mountain and it would get pitch dark, I decided to get up and walk the entire length of the beach.

Since the storm had moved off to the east and the water’s surface was completely smooth, I saw Kailua beach without waves for the first time. It looked like a swimming pool. It was still drizzling over the entire beach, but there was almost a dead calm.

I gathered all my gear from the sand, carried it to the water, placed the board in about half a meter of water, leaned the mast against my right shoulder, and started walking. As I walked, my feet were about twenty centimeters deep in the water. Stepping into the sand with my heavy body and gear, my feet sank up to five centimeters into the sand beneath the water with every step.

The sand squished between my toes under my feet. When I lifted my feet out of the water and stepped back in, the sand washed away from my toes into the water, only for new sand to squish between them on the next step.

After walking about ten meters, I had to pass behind the Mexicans, who were slightly deeper in the water on my right. They were watching the rainbows; when they saw me passing by, they smiled in my direction. I smiled back and pushed my board past them, heading north toward the other end of the bay. A minute later, I could barely hear their voices behind me. I slowly left the Public Beach and reached the first properties on my left.

It was drizzling on my head, and I looked almost continuously at the fireworks of rainbows in the sky to my right. Blue sky had broken through in several more places; blue and turquoise-green water stretched out behind the sail resting on my shoulder. Internally, I felt a deep sense of happiness—no one could take this moment away from me or buy it. These minutes belonged only to me; there wasn’t a soul in front of me, and the bay was at least a mile long. The fireworks of rainbows had moved off to the east with the rest of the storm. By now, the drizzle had stopped entirely.

About fifteen minutes later, the sun on my left hid behind the mountain in the west. About two hundred meters ahead, I saw a person walking toward me from a distance. As they got closer, I recognized a woman taking her daily beach walk with her dog, just as she did at this time every day.

Here on the beach in Hawaii, you automatically greet people whether you know them or not. After she smiled and greeted me, words slipped out of my mouth.

“Some walk their dogs along the beach in the afternoon, and some people push their boards along the beach.” She had to laugh, but she understood that I had no wind and that’s why I had to walk.

When I reached the middle of the bay, I walked right past the spot where we had spent the entire day. Our footprints in the sand had been washed away by the rain. At that very moment, twilight set in before my eyes. The lights in some houses had been on for a while. I still had just as far to walk. This meant I would have to walk the final quarter of the bay along the beach in pitch darkness. As I walked, I kept glancing at the isolated houses and the green palm trees. Just five minutes after passing our swimming spot from earlier today, I thought I heard a voice. I figured someone was sitting in a chair somewhere in front of their house in the twilight, talking to someone. Since I was in the water and the houses and properties were at least three meters above sea level, I couldn’t see the houses.

A minute later, I heard a voice again, like someone calling out. Having a long way still to go, I kept walking without giving the voices another thought.

When I heard the voice for a third time a minute later, I turned around. Far away in the twilight, I could indistinctly make out a person about fifty meters away from me, waving.

At that moment, I thought it might be Mischko. As the person got closer, I recognized her. It really was Mischko.

I waited until she was about ten meters away. She called out from a distance, telling me that Ed, Nancy’s husband, was in the car in the parking lot exactly where our car had been all day. He wanted to help me drive the gear home.

I was simply too proud to let someone pick me up. When I declined, I could see the disappointment on her face. Seeing that she had followed me all that long way in the twilight along the beach, I felt a bit of pain in my soul at that moment. I felt a little sorry for her. Disappointed, she turned around and walked back into the darkness toward the parking lot. Since Ed was waiting for her and I hadn’t seen anyone on the beach the entire time, I didn’t have to worry about anything happening to her. After a short while, I turned around, looked back at her one last time, and watched her disappear into the darkness. If she had had a driver’s license and had been alone at the beach with our car, I would have accepted her offer.

I just didn’t want Ed, Nancy’s husband, telling people at work or somewhere in Hawaii about how he had to pick up his guest after the storm.

Even before Mischko had reached me, isolated lights had been on in the houses to my left for quite a while. Thinking of Mischko, and still feeling a bit sad that I hadn’t wanted to ride back with her and Ed, I walked through the darkness like that for a few minutes. Because the storm had moved east, the wind was still pushing the water current eastward, which meant the black ocean surface was still icy smooth. Under normal conditions, it would be impossible to walk here on the beach where I currently was. Usually, waves up to a meter and a half high crash onto the sandy beach here continuously all day long.

While thinking about the surf and walking with the soles of my feet through barely thirty centimeters of shallow water, my mast merely leaning on my right shoulder while I lightly balanced it with my hand so it wouldn’t fall, I pushed my board in front of me with my right hand.

Because the soft sand kept slipping between my toes under my heels with every step, the friction began to cause slight pain between my toes.

The rubbing of the sand against my softened skin between my toes felt almost as if someone were continuously dragging coarse sandpaper from bottom to top with every single step.

As a normal beachgoer, when you walk over the soft sand to the water for a few seconds, those short distances and the bit of sand that gets between your toes feel pleasant—something I couldn’t say after walking at least a kilometer and a half.

Lost in thought about the pain in my shoulders and toes, I was slightly zoned out in the deathly silence. Every time I stepped into the water with my foot, it sounded like a soft splash on the smooth water. When I lifted my back foot out of the water, I could hear the water lightly dripping off behind me, and when I stepped forward with that foot, I heard a loud splash on the water.

At this point, I still had a whole quarter of the beach left to walk. A few larger clouds could still be seen in the sky. The moon kept appearing and disappearing behind them. In between, only a few isolated stars provided barely any light. With a clear view of no more than six meters in front of me, despite the darkness in this deathly silent, peaceful atmosphere, I somehow enjoyed walking alone through the water with my board. Probably because I was relieved that I had saved myself. If Mischko were here, this would be a lovely evening stroll for us, I thought.

During this long walk along the most beautiful bay on the island, even though the board glided on the icy-smooth water, constantly pushing the board in front of me became quite exhausting. Due to the pain in my shoulders, I had to keep adjusting my grip and holding the mast in my hand, leaving my hand with the mast hanging almost at my knees. Slowly, I approached the spot where the bay curves to the right. That was the end of the sandy beach. When I was about ten meters away from that spot, I finally saw a straight line of landscape extending into the ocean. It looked like a black wall about three meters high in front of me.

As I approached this black wall, I recognized something bright in front of me; it was just a sand dune I was walking toward. In the darkness, I thought it was the end of the beach, which it was. My next thought… Now I have to carry this stuff all the way home. I had at least four hundred meters left to walk over the land along the shore. When I had started walking from the Public Beach an hour and a half ago, I thought I could keep pushing my board along the water even further. Then I would have exited the water closer to Nancy’s house.

Crap! I cursed silently, cursing internally. Now I have to carry my gear out of the water and over the sand dune.

That’s going to be too exhausting.

To avoid carrying my gear over the sand dune and then walking the entire way home over land—at least four to five hundred meters—I tried and wanted to keep walking in the water.

I walked two meters to the right around the sand dune in the water, but as I stepped further to the left to get back into the water around the dune, it suddenly got quite deep on the very first step. In front of me was a completely black, smooth ocean surface. Because my vision was limited, I couldn’t see any land, just the dark black water barely seven or eight meters ahead.

When I took another step, my front foot sank almost up to my stomach in the water.

Since my wetsuit had been dry all this time, I suddenly had no desire to walk any deeper into the water, assuming I would have to swim.

I turned around, walked back out of the water, and left my gear on the sand.

Without the board in my hand, I walked up the sand dune, which was about three meters above sea level. Reaching the top, I was surprised to find myself standing on the lawn of the last homeowner’s property. This Hawaiian grass near the ocean is incredibly sharp under bare feet; it feels almost like a knife blade. Usually, beachgoers walk across the grass at the Public Beach in flip-flops. Even if the skin on the soles of my feet hadn’t been softened, this grass would prick like nails—exactly what I was feeling at that moment.

There was no light on in this house; the owner was probably not home. I walked a few meters north across the lawn and saw that the property seemed to end abruptly. Walking a few more meters through the darkness, I couldn’t go any further. Directly below my feet, I saw only water again. What is this?

To my right in the darkness, I saw only completely black, smooth water. I looked along to the left; it looked like a canal running alongside this last property. Now I was in shock because I didn’t want to walk into the cold water.

I had surfed from the Public Beach to the end of this bay many times, but I had never known about this canal until that very moment, because I had always been at least three hundred meters from land while windsurfing and had never looked in this direction.

Half in shock at finding a canal in front of me, I now didn’t know what to do.

How do I get across the water canal to the other side without getting wet?

On the other side of the canal, I could see just a few meters of the next property. To get to Nancy’s house, I had to cross the canal and keep walking north.

At that moment, I remembered something: when driving from our place on Kaimalino Street toward the Public Beach, we would pass Safeway, turn left at the traffic light onto Kalaheo Avenue, and shortly after, we always drove over a small bridge.

Damn it!

I cursed internally. To avoid getting wet, I would have to carry the board and sail across the entire property to the street. Before I even started walking from here, I would have to take the sail off the mast right here on the beach, roll it up, gather the individual parts, and carry it all in this darkness. Untying the knots on the lines would be the biggest problem, appearing impossible in the dark.

Walking across someone else’s property would be at least a hundred meters, if not more, just to reach a street I couldn’t even see. To walk along the street to the right, I would have to walk from the bridge all the way down Kalaheo Avenue, then down the road leading straight to the military base, turn right just before the base, and then navigate all the curves of Kaimalino Street. That route would be at least four times longer than if I just walked north behind the canal.

Just a few minutes ago while walking, I felt an internal relief because mentally I was almost home.

At that moment, I regretted rejecting Mischko’s offer. I cursed loudly to myself, left the property, and walked down the sand dune to my board, which lay a meter away from the water.

“Crap!” escaped my lips again, really loud this time. If only I hadn’t turned down Mischko’s offer.

If I didn’t want to walk, I had to go back into the cold water now.

I never liked swimming in the sea in the dark because it’s simply too spooky and you can’t see anything around you in the water. It’s not just about a little swimming; when you look out into the open ocean at night at this hour and everything is just dark, smooth, and black, I find it incredibly creepy and spooky. Instantly, my thoughts went to reef sharks; this was the time they hunted for food. With reef sharks on my mind, I set off.

Because I was at the northernmost point of this bay, Nancy’s house was not visible from here. Since I couldn’t exit the water right in front of Nancy’s house due to all the sea urchins and reefs, I looked toward the furthest corner at the lights of the first three isolated houses visible. From here, the lights looked like three small candles burning in the darkness in front of the houses.

While surfing over the past few years, I could see even from the Public Beach that small motorboats would come out from in front of that last house.

Out there, not far from the house, there was a small path with just enough room for a car to back in. Because the light in front of the house was bright, I could just barely make it out.

When I had started two and a half hours ago and rigged my sail, the last neighbor who came over to see what I was doing tried to talk me out of going into the water in front of Nancy’s house. He had probably recommended going into the water exactly in front of the house where I now intended to get out.

That was the spot where I planned to exit the water.

Since most of the clouds had dispersed by then, the moon appeared over the ocean in that moment.

Instantly, I felt uneasy entering the water. Knee-deep in the water, I fearfully waded deeper centimeter by centimeter, feeling the cold water rise higher against my wetsuit until it reached my bare neck.

Realizing I now had to swim a long distance dragging my gear behind me, and remembering that I had rejected Mischko and Ed’s offer to drive me home, I cursed myself a second time in that moment.

Swimming the first few meters forward through the dark, icy-smooth ocean surface, leaving the sand dune behind me to my left, the sea level to my right out in the open ocean was slightly illuminated. When I turned my head to the left and looked into the canal—about seven to eight meters wide—a deathly silence reigned over the dark, icy-smooth water. My visibility was barely a few meters because I was looking toward the land.

What I couldn’t see right in front of my eyes in the dark night—and thank God I didn’t think about it—was that the water flowing out of the canal was filthy, stained red by the mud. I was essentially swimming in dirty water I wouldn’t have even considered entering during the day.

While swimming in deathly silence, dragging the board and sail behind me on my right, I turned my head straight from the canal to look at the houses in the distance. The only sound I heard was the soft splashing of my left swimming hand entering the water repeatedly. It sounded like splish… splish at various intervals… a soft splashing. As I kept swimming, I occasionally glanced across the smooth water surface around me and saw a bright path illuminated by the moon, stretching almost to the middle of the ocean.

This swimming and dragging my gear behind me suddenly reminded me of the moment I jumped into the water in front of Nancy’s house earlier today. I had to drag my gear against the surf at least fifty meters into the open ocean. At the launch, dragging the board and sail against the high waves had been hard work. Now, with plenty of time and my mind almost home, it was a relaxing, slow swim, dragging the gear over the smooth water, almost like lounging. I bet no one in Hawaii has ever done this… crossed my mind. Of course not… I remembered… Nancy and the neighbor told me no one has ever launched with a windsurfing board in front of their houses.

Moving at a snail’s pace, my thoughts were constantly directed toward the depths, hoping I wouldn’t experience any nasty surprises. Once I left the canal behind me on my left, I realized there was barely any sand left beyond it, and I was still swimming over deep water. Looking toward the land, I felt like I only saw reefs because everything on land was so pitch black.

After a few minutes, I slowly got used to the cold water and enjoyed looking to my right, out over the smooth water illuminated by the moon.

The lights at the houses shone like three small candles in the silent night. While observing these lights over the smooth water in the darkness, I told myself internally: Once I reach the other side by that first house, even if I have to carry my gear on the street for another two hundred meters, I won’t be far from home.

After about ten minutes of slow swimming and dragging in the darkness and the deathly silence, with my thoughts almost home and about forty meters from land, something suddenly touched my toes.

At that moment, I got a terrible fright, and goosebumps covered my entire body. In the same fraction of a second, I yanked my leg up to my stomach with lightning speed.

For a few seconds, I held onto the board tightly with both hands, my legs tucked up against my stomach, my knees pressing against the underside of the board. When nothing happened after a few seconds, I carefully lowered my legs back down, extended my left swimming hand forward, and tried to swim again, pulling the board behind me closer to land.

After dipping my left hand into the water only a couple of times and dragging the board behind me just a few times, something touched my toes in the depths again.

In a flash of mortal terror, I yanked my knees back up to my stomach and gripped the board frantically with both hands once more.

With my knees pressing against the bottom of the board, I was completely terrified. I felt goosebumps all over my skin and body, waiting for something horrible to happen. When, after about three or four seconds, nothing happened again, I decided to carefully lower my legs into the depths once more. Halfway down, I was pleasantly surprised to feel black rocks under the soles of my feet. Oh my God, I was so scared. About forty meters from land and the houses, my adrenaline level immediately dropped. When I fully extended my legs down, I was suddenly standing in water only up to my stomach.

Crap… I cursed again, realizing I still had to walk a long way through the water over the reefs, exactly what I had tried to avoid earlier when I had the canal behind me. Looking into the distance toward the first house on the corner, I could already make out the narrow path running straight in front of it under the light of the house.

The water in front of me was pitch black and icy smooth. The silence was deadening. I slowly felt my way from reef to reef with the soles of my waterlogged feet. After only a few steps, I stepped into a hole, and my foot sank deep. After each step forward, before I could pull the board toward me, I had to stop to drag the gear up behind me. With every pull in this nocturnal, deathly silence, the board made a slightly longer sound in the water than when I was swimming. It sounded as if someone were pouring water from a bucket onto the floor.

The clouds continued to clear to the east, and at that moment, the moon briefly appeared over the middle of the ocean. When I stepped into a hole again, I was submerged up to my chest. I looked out over the smooth, moonlit ocean surface toward the open sea.

Gazing out at the open ocean, within a radius of fifteen meters, I noticed a few dark spots scattered not far from me on the smooth surface. Broad, black humps were visible, looking as if I were standing deep underwater, pushing only my closed fist and wrist above the surface. If the moon hadn’t come out a few seconds ago, or if I had been looking toward the house, I wouldn’t have been able to see or notice this.

I automatically stopped swimming and widened my eyes. I couldn’t categorize what I was seeing at the moment.

At first, I thought they were orientation points, like markers for the locals’ boats when they navigate over the uneven bottom and reefs out into the open ocean, so they don’t damage their boats and motors.

Thinking they were markers for the boats, I resumed walking step by step a few seconds later, dragging my gear behind me. With each pull of my gear, I continued to create only soft water sounds, as if someone were quietly pouring water from a bucket into the smooth ocean from a low height.

For a moment, as I took a step and moved forward, it seemed to me as if a hump sank into the water in front of me. Thinking it was my imagination, I pulled my gear closer to me again. Taking the next step, several dark spots the size of my fist suddenly vanished into the water in front of me. At that moment, I stopped and asked myself, What is that?

A few seconds later, I remembered. The locals here in Kailua had told us that somewhere here on the north side of the bay is a sea turtle nesting ground.

Yes! I thought internally. This must be the exact spot I’m walking through.

With a grin and the realization that I was currently walking among large turtles and had disturbed their sleep, I couldn’t help but smile. Without a second thought, I continued walking. As I walked, they kept diving down and resurfacing elsewhere not far from me. After only a few minutes, I felt sand under my soles; I was relieved, and shortly after, I reached land.

In the area where our bed and breakfast was, it was so quiet and dark around me that I felt as if I were in a village. It was a cul-de-sac and deathly silent.

Thinking about the turtles, I sat on the sand next to my gear for a while, staring at the dark, smooth water just a few feet away. Behind my back on my left side, the first house was about thirty meters away.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence, I watched the turtles’ heads gradually disappear beneath the moonlit, smooth surface of the sea.

Once they were gone, I started thinking about the remaining two hundred meters I had to walk home. Because we lived in the second-to-last house on a cul-de-sac with no traffic, I decided I would carry my gear on the street and walk on the smooth asphalt. If I got tired, I could set things down on the grass next to the road.

Just as I intended to stand up, I heard voices. I turned around and looked up the path behind me, thinking it was voices from the house where the first light was shining.

It got louder and louder. After about a minute, some people emerged from behind the bushes. I stood up and recognized Mischko’s voice. I had to grin. Next to her was Ed, our host. I assumed the other person with Ed was his visiting relative.

As I walked toward them without my gear, two more people I didn’t know approached. They were their neighbors, holding champagne glasses in their hands.

When they saw me, they all laughed and were overjoyed. I couldn’t help but grin too. The neighbor with the glass in his hand looked at me and said something I didn’t understand because my English wasn’t good. They all laughed at whatever he said, but I was the only one who didn’t speak English and couldn’t understand.

I wanted to know what he had said, so I asked Mischko to translate. Mischko translated: “We watched you from our house and saw you disappear into the storm! We said to ourselves, ‘We’re never seeing him again!'”

Hearing that translation, I had to laugh along with everyone else. Of course, at that moment, we were all just happy that I was back on land.

Ed and his relative took the boom off the sail. Ed grabbed one side of the boom, his visitor the other. Mischko took the mast tip in her hand. The three of them carried the sail while I grabbed the board. We walked past the bushes down the dark path under the faint moonlight. When we reached the street, walking past the first neighbor’s house, he insisted I come up to his porch and drink champagne with him and his wife. It was a nice gesture, but I told him I was hungry, and I can’t drink alcohol when I’m hungry. We still had about a hundred or a hundred and fifty meters left to walk.

When we reached the house, Nancy was standing at the front door. Seeing us from a distance, she came out into the street with her camera. Of course, she was thrilled too and insisted on taking a few pictures to remember the day I almost lost my life.