Peligroso! Abajo! Ahora!

OK, the ocean has waves. I know. I have been to many beaches in my life, both in the Atlantic and Pacific. But let me tell you, I have NEVER seen or felt waves like in Monterrico, Guatemala. They were huge and broke incredibly close to the shore. Allow me to reiterate: huge and close to the shore. I assessed the situation for a while on Friday afternoon and decided that with the surfing lessons I had had in Hawaii and the body-slam I had received in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, before I learned to go UNDER waves, that I had learned enough to handle what Monterrico had to offer.

I charged the waves with my surfer friend from California, and we had a blast. He told me which ones to ride and which ones to dive. He’d say “Take this one up” or “go under this one.” I thoroughly enjoyed being carried up and down on this natural escalator. After a while, it was time to go back to shore. That’s when things got interesting.

My friend warned me that going in was harder, and we needed to be careful. OK. Then, as we were heading in, a Guatemalan guy in the water started yelling at us and saying “Por aca! Por aca!” and gesturing toward himself. He clearly wanted us to swim up shore toward him a bit before heading in. I figured he knew these waters, so I followed him. (Later, I learned that the spot where I had been was where multiple waves merge, so the water was especially tumultuous there.) Getting back to the beach was going to be MUCH harder than initially thought. We’d swim a little and then have to turn and go under the gigantic waves. You didn’t ever want to have your back on the waves for too long.

The most striking moment, and my favorite, of this whole escapade was when two Guatemalans (my new ocean guides since I had somehow lost my Californian surfer) pointed at a wave yelled, “Peligroso! Abajo! Ahora!” which means “Dangerous! Under! Now!” Being the avid analyzer that I am, I went through these thoughts:
1. Hey, that’s really cool that I understood what they said!
2. .Hmmm, I think I’ll assess the situation a little more because I want to learn what to look for in the waves and how to know when to go down.
3. If I go down right this second, I’m going to have to hold my breath a long time because the wave isn’t quite here yet. Do they really want me to go down now?
4. Why aren’t they doing down yet?

So I asked them, “Cuando?” (When?) and they repeated “Ahora!” (Now!).

That time, I obeyed. Moments later as I was tumbling under the force of the ocean in I don’t know how many summersaults, I decided that I had waited a little too long. I had no control of either arms or legs. I had no idea which way was up. I was putty in the hands of the ocean. I anticipated being slammed against the ocean floor. I figured my life was over. I was still spinning. Shouldn’t I have hit something by now? Eventually, I was out of air. My body said to take a breath. I said no. After all, I was underwater. But something inside me kept screaming, “Take a breath!” I was certain that if I inhaled, I would receive nothing but water, and being a certified lifeguard, I am well aware of how little it takes to end a life. Still, I eventually had no choice. I opened my mouth, and to my surprise, I heard myself gasp a deep gasp like in the most dramatic of movies involving water, and my lungs filled with air! Somewhat shocked at having received air, I found that not only was my head above water, but I could control my arms, and so I pulled the hair out of my face in time to see my Guatemalan ocean guides coming to rescue me. The beach was still a distant dream. The Guatemalans came up on each side of me and gripped my biceps. This prevented me from using my arms, but that was OK because I didn’t have much strength left in them anyway. Then they kept telling me “Con tus pies” which means “with your feet.” (Looking back, it’s a darn good thing they chose “with your feet” instead of “kick” because I didn’t know the Spanish work for kick.) I kicked. I didn’t look back. I let them read the waves, and I did what they said. I had learned that this was not the time to find out what there is to know about the ocean. This was the time to obey. Eventually, my feet hit solid ground, and I have never been so happy to stand up.

Later that night, I learned that my German roommate had had a similar experience. And then we read in her Guatemala guidebook about how dangerous the waves of Monterrico are and how people die there. I laid under my mosquito net that night grateful for life and thanking God for whatever He did in that water as I was tumbling. I still don’t know exactly what happened. But God must have a plan for my life here on earth, because He is apparently not through with me yet!