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ing down on me. It was a wall of brown water, dirty, riotous, fanged
with spume and shingle. As it loomed over me it shut out the low sun.
I had seen footage of waves like this, on whose faces tiny surfers,
black and slim as water skaters, weave and bob, and I had marvelled
at their courage or foolishness. And now -
The breaker lifted me until I looked down upon the rocks of the
beach as if addressing them from a balcony. The nose of the boat
tipped down, my stomach seemed to fall away, and the water rushed
me forward at astonishing speed. I leant back on the kayak, eyes wide
with fear. There was nothing I could do. If I used the paddle I would
be more likely to capsize the boat than steady it. Even in the thick of
terror, it was magnificent. For a second, fear and thrill mixed in equal
measure. Then I saw where the wave was taking me, and the thrill
died, snuffed like a candle. The wave had swept me past the sand and
was driving me onto the rocks. I was about to leap from the boat
when it corked from under me.
The breaking wave rolled me over, tipping me out on the landward
side of the kayak. I squatted on the seabed, beneath the water, and
shoved the boat up as it came down on top of me, threatening to
crush my head. The next wave lifted it and smashed it with hideous
force onto a boulder. The hollow boom it made resounded off the
cliffs behind the beach.
I emerged from under that wave and found the shore beneath my
feet. When I stood I discovered that the water was only waist-deep. I
caught the paddle and waded onto the sand. The boat was sucked out
again momentarily, then crash-landed once more, wedging among the
rocks. I turned it over then pulled it higher up the beach. My rods
were still strapped to the gunwhale and, surprisingly, unharmed. But
my tackle bag had gone. The collision with the boulder had snapped
the cord. In that wild water, with the tide still rising, there was no
hope of finding it. I resolved to return at low tide the next day, but I
knew that in a sea like this, with longshore drift doubled by a follow-
ing wind, my chances of finding it were probably lower than my
chances of catching an albacore had been.
I stared at the sea, cursing myself. I had thought I had grown out of
this kind of idiocy. I could scarcely believe that I had lured myself into
such danger. I thought of the duty I owed to my daughter and my
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