Big Waves

When Ann and John were small we often went to Topsail Island, NC for our summer vacation. We rented a beach house there and spent a week. Jean would hunt for shark’s teeth up and down the shore. Ann, John, and I would play in the ocean.

As soon as the kids could swim I took them out into the waves. Jean was concerned for their safety and asked about the size of the waves. That is what mothers do, worry about their children’s safety. I, on the other hand, did not carry them in my belly for 9 months; I was not nearly so invested in their safety.

Each year I would take them out as far as I dared to see how they would handle it. When a wave smacked them particularly hard we would move in a little closer to shore; for a little while. We always talked about how to handle the waves safely, so I think we were mostly safe, but I haven’t always been the best judge in that department. They didn’t drown, so we were either safe, or lucky.

Sometimes a big wave just grabs you, churns you up for a little bit, slams you against the ocean floor and spits you out. I told the kids to roll up in a ball to keep their backs from breaking, and keep their head and neck tucked in tight. They were either good or lucky, like I said before.

In the early years we stayed inshore of where the waves were breaking. We had one of those rectangular inflatable rafts that you see in swimming pools. I’d carry the raft and drag the kids behind me so my body would break a small hole in the waves. Between waves I would throw the raft down on the water, and throw the kids on top of that, and shove the raft towards shore as the next wave arrived. It yielded a pretty good ride as the wave churned and bounced toward shore.

As the years went by Ann and John were able to dive under the waves and make their own way out to where the waves were breaking. The waves are bigger out there and yield a better ride. My job was to carry the raft over the waves while the kids went under. This meant I got hammered pretty hard. Eventually the kids grew too large to ride together and had to take turns.

Topsail had a strong ocean current running north to south. The strength of the current seemed to be directly related to the size of the waves. I don’t think you’d technically call it undertow, but it was strong enough to be intimidating. As we worked our way out through the waves, which were trying to push us back into shore, the current was simultaneously pushing us to the south end of the island. It was a pretty good workout.

We eventually quit fighting the current. We would run up the beach a quarter mile or more before going into the ocean. By the time we made it out to the breakers and were ready to ride a wave into shore, we would find ourselves in front of our own beach house. So we would ride one wave in to the shore and run up the beach yet again.

Each morning before going out in the ocean I would remark to Jean how small the waves looked that day. Jean would look at me with an expression of disbelief. When we returned from our session in the waves the kids would tell Jean how BIG the waves were, thereby destroying my earlier attempt at deception and any future credibility. They never did understand the “Don’t tell Mom” policy.