I went back and forth about whether or not to take this trip. My heart ached for the water, my body was feeling fragile having not exercised or surfed for a year. My mind was mush from a year of being told too many things.
So I made the call and left. I knew that at this time of the year Portugal has fewer visitors. I took all the tests, got my N95 and disposable temperature monitors, booked myself into Bukubaki and left Stockholm.
For someone who travelled every month of their life up until Nov 2019, then spent the entire 2020 locked up in the apartment in Stockholm, limiting contact to 5 people, I was nervous to get on a plane again. But when I landed in Lisbon and got the car, everything was alright. Well until I missed the exit and a 1 hour drive to Peniche turned to 2 hours, having to drive over the Ponte 25 de Abril, twice.
Anyway I got into Bukubaki with only one other person in sight, masks still on and I went straight to bed.
The first day back into surfing I went out with a really nice surf instructor. He wasn't the instructors I was accustomed to. A bit older, and a bit calmer.
So, when did Abeni decide to start surfing again? During the biggest swell ever in the Atlantic (Oct 2020). This meant that all the beaches would be either pumping or too large to surf. Maybe the universe was telling me something? I think she was saying, "Abeni challenges are the thing that makes you come alive." To which I answered, "But this one might kill me."
On my first day back in the water since 2019, the current was strong, the waves mahoosive. I was weak in paddling and very scared of the water going back out to sea. I was standing up as usual but I wasn't as good as I was back in Biarritz. I felt a little deflated within the first 20 minutes.
All up in my thoughts of feeling weak, nature always finds a way to get me to refocus. As I was paddling back out, I misjudged a wave, I thought I could just float over the lip. But the lip said, no and slapped me on the face. I swore I could see UV colours after that. My chest slammed on the board over the wave and I took one hand out of the water to feel my newly bruised cheeks. Fack, Abeni get it together, this is no joke, I thought.
I mustered on to catch some more waves. At one point in the whitewash, I got my whole body handed to me in two wipeouts. It was waist deep water, I couldn't tell you how I fell off the board, but my foot got locked into the wrappings of the leash, the soft board bailed, and the wave started taking me in the other direction.
The current was strong, I was scared, I felt weak, my mind was racing in panic. I got out of it and stood up only to be pulled by the current again. OK, got it, don't fall off the board. The second time I got held down for what felt like more than 6 seconds in whitewash and after the first 4 seconds I was like ok, well I’m not coming up for a while, so I better just chill.
The panic in the first 4 seconds .. then 5th, 6th felt like forever .. then I came up and got pulled back out.. then stood up and said, ah is this what panicking that leads to drowning feels like?
The surf instructor then says to me,
"Abeni, you got to let the wave take you where it will go, don’t fight it!"
Surfing = life lessons.
After a few hours, I called it a day. As much as I wanted to smile and have fun, I was scared.
I came back to the "camp" and though everyone was really nice, saying hello to me, I just couldn’t speak. Could barely even smile.
I was so mad at myself. How could I not train for 1 year? I started making excuses in my mind. At some point I did wonder if starting this company, meant I couldn't really be a surfer.
I crawled into the tent and held my black and blue cheek, thinking, tomorrow is another day.
After 4 days of trying in the residues of hurricane Epsilon, having not really talked to anyone since I got to PT, I started to calm down and learn more about waves and the beach. One afternoon, after a session, I was heading back to the car, when someone came up to me and said, "We were wondering who this Afro surfer was?"
OK,
1. They called ME a surfer?
2. Wait, did they really call ME a surfer?
Up until this moment, I don't think I ever heard someone call me a surfer, and honestly I really don't think I am. I am just trying to not die out here. But that was a beautiful moment.
Oh yes, the Afro. How else would you describe me? Oh the "person getting smacked down by waves over and over"? Well that was mostly everyone that week. Or more precisely "the surfer with the afro, who happens to also be eating the sandbar!", that's me!
In the midst of it all, I got word that the big waves I was experiencing in Peniche meant that the big wave surfers were in Nazare. Which meant I would be able to experience in real life the awe of Andrew Cotton et al surfing those massive waves.
Gassed up and ready, I drove to Nazare, parked at the supermarket and walked up to witness the beauty of the lighthouse.
When I got to the lighthouse, there were too many people. So I climbed up a hill, a little further back and watched on. Then people joined me. I ended up being an impromptu commentator for some Swedish and Finnish spectators. I was shocked at how much I new about these big wave surfers, but also I couldn't believe some of the words coming out of my mouth, like about boards, and about the canyon and how these waves form etc. After about an hour of explaining things, more people came and all I wanted to do was to scream for the surfers. So I showed them some videos on youtube and told them to watch it after the event. Mask back on, just watching and hoping.
Then it happened, I believe it was Andrew Cotton's wave, but I can't be sure because they are tiny ants compared to the Nazare wave. And the Gods raised the mountain of a wave and a little human charged down it. The screams, the shouts, the holding our hearts in our hands to make sure that little human didn't get crushed by the wave. EXTRA-ORDINARY!
And of course I have maybe, one insta story and no real pictures, because I was too busy screaming for joy and holding my heart!
The event ends, and I am walking back to the car only to get a message from a colleague during my Imperial College Post-doc days, "I saw someone with an afro and then I saw that you were there from your story, it was you Abeni." Oh, you see, the afro makes sense. Lol.
I jumped in the car and drove to the port hoping to see the surfers come back in and I did. There they were, the surfers beyond surfers, coming in after riding the biggest waves known to man. I am pretty sure I cried. I am crying right now remembering it. You know you love something when you can watch others do it greatly and all the emotions and words sum up to tears of joy, even months later.
I drove back to Peniche flabbergasted, overwhelmed and so happy to feel a piece of history being made by some pretty amazing humans.
The next day I booked a session with Samuel, surf coach from Mocean.
Now I knew how difficult it would be with the current, but luckily the ocean relaxed a bit after the XXL big wave surfing had ended. It was time that I paddled outback. I learned a few new things, still working on learning to turn. But it was nice to have my mind cleared, the coach on the beach yelling pointers, while I calmly focus on getting my take off correct and turns just a little better.
After the session we talked a bit about what problems I needed to correct and he told me to stay because there would be a surf competition at Supertubos early the next year, that I shouldn't miss. We also talked about how difficult it has been for everyone in the area during the pandemic.
I am always amazed at how surfers, no matter the troubles out of the water, still have a smile on their face. I was grateful for that last day, though my cheeks were still sore from the wave slap. I saw that I could still surf if I gave myself time to get back into it.
After all, there is still so much more I need to learn in surfing, it's obvious, I love it.
I got an email the day before saying I needed to go back to Sweden to sign agreements with customers. Reality check, I couldn't stay in PT while I needed to sign things in Sweden. My dream is to be able to balance my work with surfing, I know that I will just have to be patient and eventually I will be business on top and all surf at the bottom.
Speaking of, the internet in Portugal is A-MAZING. So amazing that, whilst in a virtual meeting, one of the surfers passed behind me with his wetsuit half down. I watched on screen, as this seemingly naked guy passes behind me, clear as day. I look at my teams' facial expressions, as they can only see that I am wearing a work shirt in the camera, not that my wetsuit is still on, waist down. I look up and the surfers are signalling to me that it's time to go back out. So Rodrigo passes behind me again, looking like he's not wearing clothes, and our CTO was like, "Abeni, where are you? and what are you doing?" Should I tell him? Hehehe.
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