Years earlier, I was given a stirring narrative regarding the shape and contour of the wave at Honolua Bay.

The celebrated surf spot is on the island of Maui, and I’m told that the Bay’s tube is big enough and round enough to fit a Mack Truck inside it.

This declaration has been embedded in my mind for years!

Adding to the story, I am warned that if I wipe out and lose my surfboard and the board floats into the cave, I am to swim through the cave’s tricky entrance on the back of the very next wave to retrieve the board and not to hesitate with the task.

Adding intrigue to the fire, after seizing the surfboard, I am to exit the cave as soon as possible.

It is another beautiful Maui morning as Paul and I paddle our surfboards out to the Bay’s lineup.

It appears that the northwest swell is increasing in size today and making its way into the Honolua Bay.

Paul and I surmise that this should prove to be an epic surf session.

We also know that word about a new swell, via the coconut telegraph, will rapidly spread, and before long, there will be masses of amped-up surfers invading this end of the island.

So, my brother and I savor the opportunity to ride the northwest swell prior to the legion’s arrival.

Ouch!

What a morning! Paul and I ride and ride! The waves break dreamily across the reef and continue down the point. Picture perfect.

After a couple of hours of riding these celebrated waves, I take off on a huge set wave, ride it, and get one of the best waves of my life.

I’m super stoked! It is a true spiritual encounter.

On my paddle back out, I realize another surfer is zipping across the next wave and is riding straight toward me.

Damn, he seems to aiming for me and there’s only a few of seconds of time before he’s right on top of me.

Just before a collision, I cast my board to the side and cover my head.

Luckily, his surfboard just misses me, but sure enough, my board disappears into the “cave.”

Although efficiently advised how to retrieve my board, I make the mistake of hesitating just inside the cave’s opening on a flat stone ledge that sits just to the left of the cavity.

I decide to stand upon the surface and survey the distance to my surfboard. It now rests a mere 12 feet away.

I recognize that a quick trek over some slippery rocks and urchin-filled tidepools, and my board will be firmly within my grasp.

I consider the board’s retrieval a couple of more seconds, and sure enough, the next approaching wave breaks across the cavern’s small opening and gallons and gallons of saltwater fill the cave and I get washed off the stone ledge and thrust skyward, and the crown of my head smashes the height of the cave.

Whack, bang, crunch!

If that’s not enough, instantly, this large mass of water commences to exit and rush out of the cave just as the next forthcoming wave rushes into the cave.

Oh no! I go up and down again! I’m slogged and schlepped like a saltwater rag doll!

Decisions, Decisions

I’ve had enough, and get to the mouth of the cave and dive straight out and into the exploding sea.

Surfacing 20 yards away in open ocean, I float about, peering into the cave’s entrance, hoping some backwash will free my surfboard from its dilemma.

I know my board is in serious trouble of being badly damaged. Heck, my prized board must be getting ripped apart.

I’m fortunate to be afloat just a few turbulent yards away from the unnerving grotto. I’m thankful I made my exit when I did.

After a few moments of roosting in the impact zone, I realize it is time to forget my surfboard and exit the ocean.

I know a swim to the boat ramp further inside the Honolua Bay is quite a distance and not a good option.

A wise decision would be to swim north and make my way to a small beach, but carelessly, I decide to climb the boulders that line the Bay’s shore.

Maybe I can make it to safety before getting smacked by another wave?

Did I mention rag doll? Oh man, I am just halfway up the rocks, and I realize another breaking wave will be on top of me within seconds.

Abruptly, a huge forceful wave moves over me like the devil’s fang, and I am now being propelled over large boulders and being bruised offensively.

I sense desperation, and as quickly as possible, I claw my way up and across the boulders to finally rest safely out of harm’s way.

The ocean’s fierce presence just inches away!

I’m shaken and wounded, but at least I’m safe from the sea’s mighty grip.

Eventually, my surfboard floats out of the cave and now lingers in calm water, alas, like an injured puppy.

Finally retrieved, I see the surfboard has some major scratches and dings, but I surmise it’s better the surfboard than my skull.

After all is said and done, the waves that day were worth the beating, the lesson, and the story.

And yes, the tube at Honolua Bay is big enough and round enough to fit a Mack Truck inside it.

Words by Lorenzo Lago | Surfer, Poet, and Author of “Gypsy Moon”