Sipping her hot mint tea Sophie smiled and remarked, “How
did all this become normal?” Normal became walking in dusty streets with
women in burkas while goats sifted through trash, cooking meals in tagines,
jogging on the beach beside camels, and surfing right point breaks.
As travelers, we threw ourselves into a world thousands of
miles from where we started, and a few days later found ourselves at home;
accustomed to new sights, tastes, and sounds.
The sunrise brought an adrenaline rush stronger than ten
espressos, as the mysterious world around me came into focus. The windows in my room gave views of three
surf breaks, Anchor Point, Hash Point, and Panaramas. Plans of surfing each one dominated my
thoughts already.
Boiler’s was the first spot I surfed and was a twenty minute
ride up the coast. We drove through
gravelly, desolate, desert hillside. Herds of lambs and goats ambled
around the dusty land speckled with argan trees and bushes. Goats climbed high up in tree branches to
chew on argan fruit.
I was warned about the sketchy entry and exit to the break,
and it proved to be far from the soft sand and flat beach I was accustomed to
in Florida. I followed my new friends
into the afternoon high tide. I tucked my board under my right arm and
scaled down the jagged hillside using my left hand to grip the sturdiest
looking rocks. I stepped carefully on slippery black rocks and in between
black boulders bigger than me. I saw hundreds of urchins stuck to the
rocks just beneath the water. I realized
why the spot was called Boiler’s, as there was a big exposed boil from a sunken
ship the wave broke next to. I made it to the biggest boulder that
blocked the view of the waves, studied the other surfers, and then mimicked
their actions.
Just after a big splash exploded on the boulder from a
crashing wave, I tossed my board in the water and jumped on top of it. I
felt my fins hit a rock as I landed on my board, but paddled to the outside
first and then inspected it. My board was unscathed, and before long I
paddled into an overhead wave that walled up and peeled. An intense adrenaline
rush followed and pulled me back into the line-up, alert and ready for
more. When the emerald sets rolled in
they allowed me to fly free; to dance up and down the face of the wave.
This is why I left flat, beach break Florida. A
welcome session complete with offshore winds and six foot waves breaking in
picture-book perfection was any surfer’s dream come true, and I was lucky
enough to live it. After a few hours and many waves, the chill of cold
water crippled my paddling skills. I followed a local with dreads out of
the water. I felt victorious to exit
without getting slammed into any of the dark, serrated rocks as big as
people.
“Inshallah means accepting that God sometimes works in
mysterious ways; sort of an acknowledgment that He is in control of our
plans. It is like saying, ‘God willing’
when you make plans to do something.”
I agreed with the idea and liked the word. Inshallah is a prevalent idea in the Bible. Isaiah 41 is one example, “Who makes things
happen? Who controls human events? I do!
I am the Lord. I was there at the
beginning, and I will be there at the end.”
Proverbs 16:1 is another example, “Mortals make elaborate plans, but God
has the last word.”
While traveling and surfing almost everything was out of my
control. Planning a day or weeks
movements brought comfort as it gave the illusion I was in control. Inshallah reminded me of who was really in
control, and I knew the one in control had my best interest at heart. The simple phrase brought peace.