Flights to Hawaii are something special. Usually the flight attendants will adorn you with leis, starting terrible and obvious jokes that I don’t claim to be so above that I haven’t said it every time I’ve been leid. Jokes like “Hey, look, I got laid by the stewardess. Hur, hur.” The tropical, carefree mood is set long before you even set foot on the islands. My brother and I were flying to Hawaii the year after we both graduated high school to spend a week crossing off a bucket list item—surf the north shore of Oahu. We were definitely excited, spending the flight sipping our pineapple, orange, and guava juice mocktail, dreaming about the amazing waves we were going to ride when we landed. We had spent our entire surfing lives catching Southern California swells, and that entire time the north shore was calling our names. We would tear out pictures of the Hawaiian waves from any surf magazine we could manage to lay our paws on and hang them up in our room. “Someday,” we told ourselves. And finally, someday was today! 

Our hotel was on the south shore of Oahu, in a little beach town of Honolulu called Waikiki. We threw our bags on our beds, quickly put on our board shorts, waxed up our surfboards, and ran out the door to Waikiki beach. This being the south shore of Oahu, we weren’t expecting particularly epic waves, or even really decent-sized waves at all, like those we expected to find on the north shore. But we were finally in Hawaii and we were going to be damned if we had to wait until tomorrow morning to surf. Hawaii is Hawaii, I’m not about to start getting picky, I thought. 

Marcus and I paddled out into the warm Hawaiian water to the lineup of one to two foot faces. Hardly anything to write home about, but regardless, surfing in new waters was entirely a beautiful and adventurous experience for us both. We shared waves back and forth for hours, eventually watching one of the most glorious sunsets you can expect to ever see from the water. The end to a beautiful night and the talk of tomorrow’s drive up to the north shore had us excited. 

The north shore is truly a magical place, especially for a surfer. There’s an otherworldly feeling about standing on the shore of legendary surf breaks like Pipeline and feeling the vibration in the sand from two tons of water, 20 foot faces crashing down onto the razor sharp reef. It’s almost as if you’re in the presence of Neptune himself, as if he’s manifesting the entire ocean into a single almost mythical wave to show you not only the beauty of his domain, but also the power of the water. 

A place like Pipeline is fun in a dramatic sort of way to pay witness to, but something else entirely to paddle into. Surfers at Banzai Pipeline are a rare breed, embracing their fear and dancing elegantly with the full power of the ocean crashing down on razor sharp reef. If Neptune were challenging these men and women, they embraced the challenge with the spirit of a warrior, playing full out and enjoying the ride along the way. Marcus and I watched this legendary wave for nothing short of a couple hours before wisely deciding to play it a bit safer, and a little less insane, on the road going west to a lesser known but still powerful surf break known as Chun’s Reef. Chun’s Reef is known as a long, crumbling wave, but make no mistake, when the winter swells arrive, they manifest some very large and very powerful surf. On this Hawaiian winter day, there was a large and powerful swell in the water. 

We threw on our trunks, waxed up our boards, and jumped straight in the water. Finally, we were going to be surfing the world’s famous north shore of Hawaii—sure it wasn’t a place like Pipeline or Wamai Bay, but we were surfing the north shore, baby…and we were excited. The paddle out to the main break was all smiles and laughter between the two of us until we made it out past the breaking waves and sat on our boards. Once I got to a position of waiting for a wave, the reality set in. Yes, I was on the north shore, and yes, that was an amazing thing, but the waves on the north shore of Hawaii are completely different animals to the ones I was used to back home in Southern California. The surf here had a different power, a much larger power. Neptune was talking to me, and he was telling me I was way over my head. At this time, I had only been surfing for just over a year, and here I was, watching ten foot monsters rise out of the depths of the water, violently crashing down into reef that was too sharp to even walk on, spitting air out of the barrel in a shotgun fashion.

I was terrified. 

In the middle of my terror, a group of set waves appeared over the horizon. While I decided to wait this one out to catch my breath and “grow a pair,” I watched Marcus paddle into his first wave. From outside, saw him drop in, and then nothing. I was sure had a mouthful of reef to eat for breakfast. The wave went on and on for what seemed like ages. About 20 seconds passed and I started growing more and more worried as I hadn’t seen him resurface. Just at that moment, I watched him effortlessly pull out of the back of the wave some 100 yards down. 

“Oh my Goooooood, did you see that?” he shouted at me.

 I was in awe; that may have been the largest and longest ride I had ever seen him catch. I was impressed, but as brothers are, and as brothers especially are at that age, I had to one-up him. It’s just part of the brothers code. As the next set of waves rolled over the horizon, I swallowed nervously, lay on my board, puffed out my chest a bit, and began to paddle for the first wave. It’s now or never, Travis, I thought to myself. Just go! With my mind focused on not getting a mouthful of coral, this ten-foot show of power began to lift me up. I paddled as hard as my arms could keep up with. Higher and higher the wave lifted me up, until through the clear, tropical water, I could see the colors of the coral reef. The juxtaposition of awe and terror struck me. The wave began to pitch, getting ready to slam tons of power into the razor reef. With my eyes intently looking at where I didn’t want to be, I timidly popped to my feet to slide down the face of the wave. Only, by then, it was too late. The lip of the wave grabbed hold of my body with the kind of power that a 300-pound NFL linebacker would be jealous of. 

Weightlessness and flying towards the reef, I prepared myself for the inevitable. This was going to be bad…really bad. As if Neptune were introducing me to the north shore by showcasing its incredible power, the wave dumped me straight down, slamming my body violently on a floor of razor sharp edges. I tumbled under water a handful of times, trying to reach the surface. The slam on the water had already knocked all the wind out of me. Frantically trying to reach air was futile as another wave crashed over me, throwing my body across the reef once more. This time, I felt it too. I put my feet on the razor reef and bounced up to the surface. A quick half gasp of air before the next wave of the set pummeled me back down and across the sea floor. By this time, I was convinced it was a fight for my life. I swam back up and, once I surfaced, saw another wave headed right towards me, ready to crash right in front of me. Through my daze, I realized that it looked like I had time to swim parallel to the shore so as to avoid the crashing wave and make it the shoulder, the unbroken part of the wave. I swam with my life. The wave moving quickly towards me. And just in time, as if Neptune knew I had no more in me, I made it to the shoulder. I breathed a few heavy breaths and pulled my leash to grab my board to paddle in towards shore before I would get pummeled again.

In the time it took me to catch my breath, I thought of how good it would feel to lie on the sand, safe. But, strangely, at the same time, I thought of the regret I would surely feel having given up after only one try. How often will I ever get this chance again? I’ll feel like a coward forever, I thought. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t at least get one more. I had caught my breath. I looked at body and noticed it was only marginally bruised, my ego surely more than my physical self. I moved my limbs…nothing was broken. Was this a sign? I took it as one and paddled back from one of the true pioneers of big wave surfing in Hawaii, Buzzy Trent, which was pinned on my bedroom wall, “Waves are not measured in feet and inches, they are measured in increments of fear.” Yeah, I was scared, Buzzy, but on that day, I was committed to not letting that fear define me. 

A very tan Hawaiian native on a ten-foot longboard paddled by me, slowing down enough so that I could keep up with my much shorter board.

“Nasty, bruddah. You okay?”

Sheepishly, I nodded my head.

“You too scared, bruddah. Relax. Breeeeeathe. See, like dis.” He illustrated a deep breath in and out.

I followed his example, not really sure what he was getting at. Crazy old kook, I thought, immediately embarrassed at myself for judging this man who obviously had a bigger smile than I did at the time.

“You too scared,” he repeated. “Koa, haole. We all kinda scared, but it ain’t about not being scared, it’s about becoming strong, you know, like warrior.”

A word stuck out to me. “Koa?” I asked.

“Hawaiian, haole. Means fierce, embrace da adventurer, be brave, be bold, be fearless. Koa.” A long pause as we paddled out together. The silence, I felt, was understood between us. I was listening intently.

“Breathe, bruddah. Just breathe. Relax, but be fierce. Koa.”

Again, to save my energy, I nodded my head that I understood as I paddled back out to sit next to Marcus. After making sure I was all right, at least physically, we sat in silence. 

There was a long time for reflection before the next set of waves greeted us over the horizon. I thought about regret, I thought about going home empty-handed, and I thought about Koa. I paddled for the first wave, putting everything I had into every stroke. I puffed up my chest, just a little higher than before. I chose to look at this approaching wave, not with a sense of dread, but with a sense of spirit. It was now or never. Thoughts of me being ravished on the reef again. I quickly replaced them with thoughts of playful fun, dancing on the wave. 

The wave approached. Twelve feet and ready to throw over the razor reef.

“Koa!” I shouted it like an incantation, setting my intention to approach this ride, not with embracing fear, but with embracing courage. The wave picked me up with the same intensity as the last one. I noticed the razor sharp reef directly below me. I embraced the fear—I slowed down my breathing, focused on the beauty of the ride instead of the sheer terror that my mind was screaming at me to notice, and smoothly jumped to my feet. Turning right to avoid the breaking lip, I now came face to face with it; it was pitching right at my face. My mind went to being thrown across the sharp reef.

Still scared, I instead smiled. 

Koa.

Breathe...

I ducked just under the throwing lip, wanting to close my eyes to embrace for impact, but keeping them open, instead to embrace the dance. The lip pitched over my head. Now finding myself deep inside the eye of the wave. In the heart of the ocean. “The green room,” as it’s known to surfers. Except this view was inside the crystal blue eye of the wave. My bare feet on my board, sliding over crystal water, two feet above reef that might as well have been painted by the universe’s best artist. Raccoon Butterfly Fish swam under and in front of my board. I looked out of the breaking barrel, tropical trees and sands. I was in paradise; I was loving life. The wave spit me out with force to the shoulder as I pulled out and paddled back into the lineup for another ride… It was time to dance with the ocean. 

Besides the sheer fun, euphoria, and exhilaration of riding waves, what surfing teaches me about life is just as beautiful...and has taken me close to a decade to truly discover. To be a great surfer, we must learn not to be scared and anxious, but rather calm and focused—even in the biggest and scariest surf. Anxiousness and fear leads to falling. Calmness and focus leads to beautiful memories with the waves. See, great surfing is not about controlling your path on the wave, but rather allowing the wave to guide you... There’s a balance here, and when that balance is done well, it’s like a dance. This is flow. Life is like surfing—there’s a wave showing our unique way, we just have to open our hearts and learn to dance with it.

On that day, out on the north shore, I learned something much more than how to surf with ease. I learned how to embrace fear. I learned that if you don’t ever feel fear in your life, you are either dead or not living big enough. Fear is not something to run away from. By running away, we not only allow that fear to dictate the direction of our lives, we allow it to make us paddle in towards shore with our tail between our legs, always wondering, “What if?” 

Instead, it’s important to fully embrace that fear, to embrace the spirit of Koa, like a fierce warrior and rise above it.

Next Chapter: Chapter 14.3: A Single Step