Not Quiiiiite 50 (or the 60 they forecasted) Foot Waves...

We got up at 5:30 this morning and got ourselves ready for our Killer Wave adventure. When I opened my eyes, I seriously considered going back to sleep. Then I thought of my son, Jon who would be wanting to see what the Eddie Aikau Invitational would be like not to mention waves that big. Poor guy is landlocked in New Mexico.

Here's what I got from the Eddie Aikau website (link is above) for whom the Invitational is now named:

"Eddie's Legacy

By the mid-'70s, Eddie's passion for big wave riding was not his only driving force. The Hawaiian cultural renaissance was in full swing and Aikau was feeling the pull to dig deeper into the roots of his Hawaiian heritage. Following his win of the Duke Kahanamoku Invitational at Sunset Beach in the winter of 1977, his focus shifted to the Hokule'a.

A traditional double-hull voyaging canoe that was the symbol of Hawaiian pride, the Hokule'a represented the cultural connection that Hawaiians were seeking at the time. Eddie was selected to be part of the crew who would sail Hokule'a by traditional celestial navigation from Hawaii to Tahiti in March of 1978. It was to be a 30-day, 2,500 mile voyage across the Pacific, following the ancient route of Polynesian migration.

The Hokule'a set sail on the stormy afternoon of March 16, 1978, in strong winds that were whipping up heavy seas. Not far into the journey, Hokule'a developed a leak in one of her hulls, later capsizing during the night in the Moloka'i Channel. After weathering the night, and with the physical state of crewmembers deteriorating, Aikau insisted upon paddling for the Hawaiian island of Lana'i, estimated to be some 19 miles away. It would be the final rescue attempt of his life. While the crew aboard Hokule'a were later spotted by a passing plane and rescued, Aikau was never seen again. He was two months shy of his 32nd birthday."

We hurridly got dressed and were out the door in 25 minutes remembering to pack sun screen that we didn't use because we never saw the sun.

As we passed through Wahiawa on the way to the North Shore, we saw bumper to bumper traffic. "You don't think they're all headed to Waimea, do you?" I asked Art. He was really trying to not say, "I told you so."

There were no parking spaces close to Waimea Bay where the Surfing Invitational is held so we had to walk at least 10 miles away from where we were parked. OK... fine, Art says it was only a little over a mile.


When we got there we saw that there was already a crowd overlooking the bay. I had to hold my camera over the crowd. There was also a constant drizzle. My camera kept getting wet.

Through the salt water mist and ocean spray we could see spectators on the other side of the bay.

The Invitational platforms and tents had been set up with the expectation that the event would go on because of the promise of consistent big waves. The Invitational takes place only if there are consistent 20+foot waves.


I could see surfers out on their surfboards waiting for the perfect wave.


Photography was extremely difficult and hazardous for our cameras because of the salt water mist.

Still, we managed to catch a few shots of the very brave surfers. I gave Jon a call in New Mexico and described the scene for him, not forgetting to let him know that aside from suffering to give birth to him, I was also braving the rain and surf for him. Yes, yes, he was most appreciative. This is what a mother does for her son. Ummmm.... yes, the father, too.


Art said every time we clicked off a shot we could hear a million shots clicking off next to us from these high powered cameras. I think their photos turned out a smidge better than ours.
After standing in the drizzle for at least a couple of hours, the skies seemed to clear a tiny bit.

The swells were pretty big. My estimate was that they were near 30 feet high. This proves you should never believe anything I say about surfing. The wave sets had very long intervals to wait through.

News and Coast Guard helicopters kept watch. We heard emergency vehicle sirens but we don't know why they came.

We were glad we came early because this is the scene we saw on the 20 mile walk back to our car. My lower back actually HURT a whole lot (this is for Jon) from standing for nearly 3 hours waiting for the next set of waves.

We grabbed a breakfast at (dare I say it?) McDonalds and headed out to Mokuleia Beach to see if they had 50 foot waves. Nope, none there either.


When we got back home Art immediately started washing the salt off the car. We learned then that the Invitational had been postponed due to the heavy salt mist and fog blanketing the area and smaller than expected wave heights. They said the wave heights were about 18 feet. Really? If those waves were 18 feet, can you imagine what 60 would have been like?

Well, they're saying tomorrow could bring 50 foot waves. Would we be crazy enough to go out there again? Would we? Do you think we're crazy?

We'll see.