Just Send It: Katie McConnell On Paddling Jaws

In theory, surfing a big wave is simple – just send it.

This is exactly what the best at Pe’ahi do – drop into giant mountains of water, carve low off the bottom and fly up the wall as it warps into the wave’s signature barreling end section, before rocketing out into the channel.  

Then they paddle right back out and do it again…

But ‘Sending it’ is a highly personal art form. A practice where challenge hangs in tension with risk, reward, ego, and most critically, connection. And as well as the preparation, work, and chance needed to ride big waves, the split-second decision to commit still rests with one person alone – the surfer.

In early January, a series of storms was due to graze the northern shores of the Hawaiian Islands, creating a small swell with the potential of stirring something up off the reef at Pe’ahi. This, plus a window of relaxed trade winds, was worth keeping an eye on.

I had just bought two twin 2014 Yamaha jet skis and a dual trailer, after years of paying out for rescue support and boulder beach tax on my body and board, and I was excited to take them out for the predicted swell. Skis are the door to progression but the only thing about two older watercraft and saltwater is that they can be double trouble and the day before the swell, with one ski’s starter shot and a wheel bearing on the trailer blown, I was down to one ski, a borrowed trailer, a growing tab with the mechanic, and still no partner for the next day.

The following morning, it was still dark when I rolled over to turn off my alarm. On my phone there was a text from Austin Kalama – a friend and one of the most talented and good-natured watermen anywhere. “Buoys are up! Text me,” it read. Pulling up to the slip, we discovered what was meant to be a borderline swell was in fact a classic 10 to 15-foot Jaws, with the occasional 20-footer coming down the middle of the swell window.

By late afternoon, most of the crew had rotated through and cleared out and as the rainbows in the spray of the waves turned to gold as the sun dipped to kiss the West Maui mountains it was my turn to paddle while Austin watched from the channel.

I was pushing myself to sit deeper than usual, hunting the dream right - a long run across the reef from the north peak through the west bowl barrel - but for some reason I couldn’t tune in. The swell wasn’t big enough to consistently grab the reef and the sets were more shifty than usual, with the natural line split into mushy north peaks and wedgy west peaks.  

Bobbing in the lineup, I triple-checked my landmarks and the horizon, paddling over sneaker sets from one direction and sprinting to chase down others coming from the other. What-ifs and self-doubt started ping-ponging in my head, and my calm watching was turning to frantic grasping for a wave, and as happens when you find yourself in unfamiliar conditions, feeling vulnerable, fear creeps in.  

The words of big wave pioneer Darrick Doerner echoed in my mind: Don’t go to it. Let it come to you. Easier said than done! Impatient, I move farther inside, sure that one will come to me more quickly. My heartbeat was in my ears, breathing hard to calm down.

“North!” Austin calls from the channel.

I paddle and crest a small forerunner to a giant set that’s breaking an entire level farther outside than anything we’d seen all afternoon. My heart misses a beat. The first wave has already broken and is freight-training across the reef.

Snapped into focus, I skirt over the shoulder of the first and scramble up the face of the second. It blasts me off the back and my board goes flying, spinning like a kite on the end of my leash. I recover it as quickly as I can and stride towards the horizon.  

As the spray clears I see it and know there’s no way I’m getting over the third wave. Determined to avoid the guillotine of the lip I manage to make it partway up the face as it breaks over me. I dive, swimming myself and my gun deep, fighting against being dragged over the falls. The wave releases me and I slip out of the back.  

I scramble onto my board, only to see the fourth wave and it’s coming right for me. It looks scary big, but I’ve prepared for this, and my body is strong. I’ve made crazy drops before and know I want it. Instead of banishing my fear, I invite it to step aside for a moment while I stretch beyond, for the love of the journey and curiosity for what might lie ahead.  

I thank my fear, turn and go, with everything I’ve got. The wave lifts me as the bottom drops out, the face going more vertical. I’m on my feet and crouch low to sink through the jet of wind shooting up the face and feeling the energy of the wave and I know it’s letting me in as I sight my line...  

For a few seconds, there is nothing else but the present. I’m flying down the face, feeling through my feet the immense push and power of the wave as I travel along it. I look up and see the lip flare, towering above me, backlit and glowing. Then shoot out into the channel happy and hungry for the next wave - but bigger with a better line.

When a wave calls your name, all you have to do is send it.

But where every micro-unit of timing and positioning counts, so does every bit of work, practice, and preparation, bringing fear into balance with courage. When we embrace fear instead of banishing it, we give it a chance to transform through experience. We keep going, freer than before, ready to catch what might be over the back of the next wave.