Women Who Surf jaws — Team Amazone Makes Women Tow Surf History-restorator

UnCategorized "Team Brasil!" I yell from the cliffs of Peahi with my arms up in the air like I’m watching a soccer game from the top of the stadium bleachers. Picture this: the horizon turns into sheets of blue corduroy and tow-in teams zip along this watery fabric like an army of ants. This is my perspective from the cliffs and I look through my camera lens to spot my two brave soldiers: Andrea Moller and Maria Souza. Luckily I know the photographers next to me or they’d be pretty annoyed at my passionate antics. I look over at Ron Dahlquist and let him know that this is women’s history month and my best friend and her partner are making women’s surfing history today. On Sunday, March 6, 2005 Maria and Andrea Moller are the first women tow-in team to successfully surf Peahi, otherwise known as "Jaws". Not only did they surf heaving 30-foot waves, but also they did it with style, grace, and more importantly humility. Afterwards when we met up back at her quaint beach house at Spreklesville, she acted like it was just another great day of surfing. Which is shocking to me because I know how hard she has been training this season and really the past seven years, as a star water woman on Maui — all leading up to her pinnacle experiences on the ocean at "Jaws". The only clue that anything out of the ordinary just happened could only be felt. Andrea could’ve powered all of the North Shore homes with the electricity that zapped me when we slapped a high five. I look into her sunburn eyes and scream, "ANIMAL". The nickname that we both have for one another after our many hours of surfing big waves together. I gave my pal a big hug. I’m just as shocked as Andrea at her ac.plishment. I begin to realize that Andrea and Maria are breaking into "forbidden" territory in women’s surfing. The "boy club" that has been towing into Jaws for the past ten years is now a thing of the past. During this winter season Andrea, Maria, and myself have been training on the outer reefs of Spreckelsville, our "backyard". We’ve had many conversations about the importance of training hard on "smaller" waves at places like Spartans and Pier One. When women begin showing up at these spots and especially Jaws, the microscope is on us big time. We are setting the standards for the respect that the "boy club" gives us in the future. Not only do we have the pressure of a 20+ wave breathing down our neck, but we also have the guy’s microscope eyes judging our every move out there. It’s very stressful, yet the exhilaration of successfully towing into those 3 story walls of water is forever embedded in our memories. If Sunday’s big swell isn’t enough to satisfy Andrea and Maria’s adrenaline fix, another even bigger swell was due to arrive Tuesday. At dawn, they fire up their maroon 2 stroke Yamaha, power through the walls of white water in the "backyard" and jetted up Maui’s North Shore for that stigmatic blue jewel of a wave, "Jaws". I follow them up the coast in my wave runner with photographer, Ron Dahlquist, clutching behind me with all his camera gear and a bright yellow life vest from the eighties that makes me smile. The sunrise over Haleakala is a stunning backdrop to the massive waves pounding just one hundred yards from my buzzing ski. Long streams of ocean spray turned pink from the sunrise makes for a surreal ride up the coast. Ron and I shoot "Jaws" from the left side of the channel. From this angle the perspective of the rights looks like Ho’okipa’s "Point" on steroids. Ron captures the wild rawness of Peahi with dramatic sea cliffs and even more dramatic walls of water heaving over the deep coral shelf for surfers to glide across. What a difference to witness the sure power and enormity of this wave from the channel, rather than above on the cliffs, fifty feet up and at least two hundred yards from the peak. Driving my ski, less than 50 yards from the teethy peak of Jaws, is like staring into the bowels Moby Dick. The boy club, with all their expensive toys and inflated attitudes, buzzes all around Ron and me. It’s an extreme sportsman’s circus show. I don’t know what’s more shiny and bright, Garrett McNamara’s day glow orange life vest and bright green ski sportin’ his sponsor’s logo, Sobe or the boxy-barge looking fishing vessel called "red rhino" that’s docked out to sea about two hundred yards. And of course the ringleader, Laird Hamilton tows in tandem with David Kalama. One tow rope with two handles attached at the end whips them into the biggest wave of the set and similar to a trapeze act, they fly down the face of the wave and weave to the high and low point, alternating crucial positioning on this speeding watery wall. Their calm .posure in the face of danger tells of many hours sharpening their skills and dulling their nerves here at "Jaws". Garrett McNamara pulls into a barrel that you could park the "red rhino" inside of. I don’t see him .e out of it, and hold my breath like I was getting wiped out like Garrett was undoubtedly getting in that moment. I don’t know how these guys survive the wipeouts here. And like a woman who goes back to their abusive boyfriend, Garrett gets seduced back to the peak again to tame the beast and chance getting another beating for the most exhilaring ride of his life at "Jaws". Suddenly the conditions turn ugly, with wind and rain moving in from Haleakala. I meet up with Andrea and Maria and high tail it back to Spreckelsville. The air smells like a mixture of salt and gasoline from our skis. I draft behind "Team Brasil" and ride the smooth section of their wake. As we past our outer reef tow-in spot, "Spartans", Andrea looks at me with a spark in her eyes. "Are you ready?" She crouches low and guns her ski through the mass of whitewater ahead of us. The art of driving your ski through ten foot walls of white wash is all about timing and trusting your driving skills. I trust Andrea’s judgment to take the lead and guide us to her beach house. Looking behind my shoulder once, I realize that Andrea’s timing was impeccable. We managed to navigate through the inside toilet bowl of current and whitewash without dealing with those outside mackers. I feel alive and at peace with Maui’s extreme beauty. This new extreme sport that makes my heart race, my mind focus, and my body perform. Back at the beach house, we strip off our layers of neoprene like our coat of armor. Andrea’s big Brazilian accent belts through "Camp One", our beachfront neighborhood. "Another day, another wave!" I’m continually reminded of how fortunate we are to experience this beach lifestyle on Maui’s North shore, pushing our limits as professional water women. I have a sense that the "boy club" at Peahi will see more of "Team Brasil" and all the Maui surfer girls gracing the big waves with our passion, grace, and humility. About the Author: 相关的主题文章: