As I sit on the ski waiting for a wave during the swell of the decade, I start chatting with George (Humphreys), who's sat in the water holding the rope. We get talking about how he has never been pumped at The Right before and didn't ever want to. The conversation however came to a sudden close as a set marched in from the horizon.
I told George to grab the rope and we were off like a bullet to drop him into the back corner of the reef. He let go of the rope, drew a line down the face and aimed for the channel.
They say that before you die you see your whole life flash before your eyes. Well let me tell you now, I didn't see any flashes of my first time eating ice-cream.But something wasn't quite right, and when I saw everyone pointing towards the impact zone, I realised that good ol' Gringoss just got closed out on. I thought little of it until I saw the wave behind, which George was about to wear on his head as some sort of bizarre fashion accessory.
I was driving around in the foamy mess of an impact zone trying to find him for ages. He was so far on the inside with a face as red as a lobster, a massively inflated wetsuit and no bodyboard to be seen. If it was in calmer circumstances and I saw George in that state again I would cry in laughter, but considering what he just went through and because of my poor wave choice, the least I owed him was to rescue the big red lobster without laughing.
After fetching his board from the inside, we began our journey back to the channel, but we first had to somehow get across about 200 meters of water before the next wave came.
He was so far on the inside with a face as red as a lobster, a massively inflated wetsuit and no bodyboard to be seen. I momentarily turned into Rambo and full throttled it for the channel. Halfway through setting the world record for 'the fastest speed on a jet-ski' I realised that a wave was heading straight for us. It was about 10ft and looking like it was about to break. Right there and then I had to make a choice out of 3 options that came to mind:
1: Keep up the speed and hopefully get to the wave before it breaks, most likely ending in the ski getting launched into outer-space.
2: Turn around and try to out run the wave, probably ending in the wave catching us and washing the ski into the rocks.
3: Curl up into a ball with Georgey boy and say our goodbyes, waiting for our un-escapable death to finally catch us.
I was leaning towards option 3, but a glimpse of hope came over me and I decided on the hell-man option number 1. As we hammered towards the wave, now starting to feather at the top, I knew this was a bad decision. It was one of those moments in life when all you can ask is, how the f*ck did I get myself in this situation?
The gap was closing between the feathering monster and my jet-ski. The clash of the titans was upon us and there could only be one winner. Just a couple more meters to go and we'll make it!
Suddenly the wave started to crumble down on top of us. "I'M BAILING," I vaguely hear George scream, seconds before our ski hits the wash at max speed.
I prayed to the Gods in the hope that I could still go to heaven even though I have stolen a couple of chocolate bars in my time, but sadly I heard no response.
They say that before you die you see your whole life flash before your eyes. Well let me tell you now, I didn't see any flashes of my first time eating ice-cream, or the first time I slept with a girl. All I saw was my ski flying towards a now crumbling 10ft beast, with me and George sat, frozen with fear, onboard for the whole shebang. Within a split second I see George fly off in the corner of my eye, as if being double-bounced on a trampoline, his arms and legs flailing like some kind of toy being thrown around by a toddler. Suddenly I realise that I myself am about 20ft in the air, sideways and hanging on for dear life.
In the air, I had time to think about my options and here's how my thoughts were turned into action:
"Okay, stay calm Lewy, you got this. If you bail off the ski like George, the ski is f*ucked, it'll get washed into the rocks, so you gotta try and land this."
"But I'm literally sideways. I can't do it. I'll break every bone in my body."
"You have to try, it's the only way."
"Okay I got this. Argghhhh!"
And just like that, the decision what made. I'm landing this.
As I reached the pinnacle of the air, I felt the weightlessness of the ski as it plummeted back down to Earth and knew that this was the moment of truth. I prayed to the Gods in the hope that I could still go to heaven even though I have stolen a couple of chocolate bars in my time, but sadly I heard no response.
How the f*ck did I get myself in this situation?
I fell and fell, and fell some more until the ski hit the water, almost on its side. My brain didn't even have time to register what was happening before I smashed the whole left side of my body on the the ski before, of course, tumbling into the water. I surface from the water only to hear a faint yell that had travelled a long distance through space and time to only just reach my ears with enough volume to interpret, Oi Lewy, you alright? It was George's voice, and I suddenly came back to realisation that I had to get back on the ski and save the day.
Full of adrenalin, I jumped back onboard, started the ski up, to rescue George for the third time. I gunned it to the channel, to finally reach safety.
We tried to tell the boys what we'd just been through but it was pointless. We could barely speak, let alone describe to them that we just set multiple jet-ski world records including 'fastest speed' and 'largest air', only just managing to escape with our lives and bodies intact.
That night I asked George what the wipeout was actually like and he said it was pretty mellow. Your guess is as good as mine, but I've come to the conclusion that it was only mellow because of the complete mayhem that ensued straight after his wipeout, making the 20ft bomb landing on his head feel like a walk in the park.