I fear drowning. Probably most would rank this as not one of the ways they’d like to go out. Mine is a specific nuanced version where I’m held down by thunderous tons of churning water until I am no more. So you would probably imagine I live in some dusty town far from the ocean or any large body of water. You probably also think I’m careful in the shower less an accidental slip leaves me face up drowning under the shower head.

Nope, I surf and chase big waves. Not the azure, blue perfection you see in surf movies. My pleasure and fear are the murky, cold bombs found way down south.

I may still drown, but before I do, let me share some lessons learnt. Firstly fear most definitely will kill you. Didn’t expect that did you? All that talk of fear being a state of mind that can be overcome if you only do this or think that is mostly rubbish from my experience. I have tried just about every self help ideology from hypnotism to believing it’s just a state mind, to drinking enough Red Bull that I was so amped up I wanted to charge any type of ocean condition. Nothing really helped much in the long run. Instead I learnt that fear can kill you. It can leave you like the rabbit in the car headlights paralysed until what you fear most really does come along and take you out. Fear can muddy your thinking to the point where stupid decisions are made causing dire consequences.

Fear can also grind you down. What I call low grade fear that over time just sucks all the fun, enjoyment, challenge and love out of your life.

What has reduced my fear of drowning is surfing waves of consequence. I have never been more in touch with myself, the environment and the moment when I am about to be mowed down by a multi storey collapsing building of water. Most strange of all is that during these death (well, I thought I’d not make it home) occurrences, I’ve not found the thinking space to occupy fear. I’m too caught up in trying to stay alive to spend time being fearful. Maybe “leave no space for fear” should be my bumper sticker.

A cold winter’s day found me in the line up at the premier big wave location on the southern tip of mainland Australia. Bells Beach during the so called storm of the century. People were calling it the biggest swell in 50 years, and some how crazy me thought it was a good idea to face my fears and paddle out on the biggest board I had in the biggest surf I’d seen in a long, long time. I wonder if there is a use by date for old surfers in big surf? Maybe there aren’t any. They just find themselves in the wrong position and eventually get atomised by some avalanche of ocean.

The surf community at Bells Beach is pretty tight and if you’re not local, catching waves can be hard. Not being local I wasn’t getting many waves. They simply weren’t going to let me possibly waste a wave until they’d had their full share. Bells Beach in winter is also very cold so I had every bit of me covered in wetsuit. Even so after 45 minutes I could no longer feel my hands and feet.

Every set of waves that came through saw the pack paddling for the safety of the deep water channel. Except for when the largest of waves came through, this was the only safe place to be as the water was too deep for the majority of waves to break there. Sometimes even sanctuary couldn’t be found here when the biggest of waves came through. They simply closed out the bay and mowed everything down.

The ocean has taught me patience. The best waves to be caught are those delivered up to you rather than forcing the situation and trying to claim your own victory. Time spent in the arena, the playing field, marriage, a job, the ocean, any situation of consequence is optimally spent watching and listening, feeling and praying. Above all be patient. Wait. Wait. Wait.

And so here I am with frozen limbs trying to find my wave in a crowded line up in waves of serious consequence. I am trying for patience but something has to change or I’ll need to go in, and my surf session will be for nothing. As will that two hour drive to get there.

The biggest set so far that day proceeds to fill the horizon and the pack paddles in various states of anxiety to the supposed safety of the channel. I’m left with a big decision here. The safe(?), consistent and predictable option is I follow the pack like I have been doing all along knowing full well that when we all paddle back to the line up I still will struggle trying to find my wave amongst the crowd. The other choice I have is to try and do something with this approaching set of waves.

At times life throws up choices that aren’t easy to make. We’re adults here and I think life sometimes gives us harder choices to make.

Decision making is easier if we’ve been through similar experiences before. We can reflect upon lessons learnt. Better still learn from others so we can save ourselves some grief along life’s journey. I’ve surfed and survived epic waves before so I could draw on some of the skills necessary. Knowing that bigger waves will break further out and be travelling faster means that I can position myself properly in the take off zone. It’s what got me through some big surf sessions in PNG and Hawaii. Knowing what to do and implementing a plan of action helps to keep the fear at bay. It doesn’t remove fear but it will let you function without overwhelming fear. Having practiced under water swimming and breath holding means that when a big wave holds me under for far too long, I know I have the physical skills and mental strength to swim back and return again for another wave.

Experience also teaches us when to pull back. There have been times when I have not paddled out and walked back up the beach with my board under my arm. Embarrassed but knowing the ocean is not for me today.

The previous set of waves that had come through had resulted in three broken boards. These are three inch thick big gun surfboards that couldn’t be broken if a car drove over them. I’m thinking what could these waves do to my body? I also wasn’t sure I was in the right position. Generally the bigger the wave, the further out they break. These were the biggest waves of the day, so they were going to break further out than where we had been sitting in the line up.

An interesting feature of the geography of the coast line at Bells Beach is that it sits like a huge amphitheatre. There are these large cliffs that look down on all the waves and directly out to the Bells Bowl where all the action takes place. This is what makes holding surf contests there so appealing to the media. Easy to film with their big cameras pointing down to the action. Another interesting feature is that when the swell is big, spectators line the cliff top to watch the drama and cars blow their horns when particularly large sets arrive.

Fear can be managed by committing yourself to a course of action. Having a structure or set of tasks to do, even a purpose gives us a framework that we can base our actions around. It reduces randomness and chaos through organisation and purpose. Fear loves chaos and indecision. So the more purposeful and decisive you can make your actions and environment, the less scope there is to be fearful.

I decided now was my time so I watched the pack paddle off to the safety of the channel. They promptly turned and watched me, probably wondering just how nuts was I? It does make you question your decision making when over a dozen type A alpha male surfers are all sitting on their boards looking at you. I felt like it was feeding time at the lion enclosure.

I was left alone in a large space of ocean paddling out to meet a very large set growing in size as it bore down on me. I could also hear what sounded like every car and bus in the car park leaning on their horn. People were also letting out that piercing whistle that somehow I’ll never be able to master. Was I being told something in a non verbal way? Probably, but I was committed to catching one of these waves. I was not going to let my fear overwhelm me so I just shut down all other thinking and focused completely on the situation I was in. It’s my strategy that I have learnt to get through tense situations. I know I’ve survived heavy hold downs before and I’ve got the skills to ride mountain sized waves. So, all should be okay? Right? Maybe? I hope.

So tiny me is scratching for the horizon and eventually meets the Godzilla wave. My fear is now making me paddle up it for all I’m worth hoping to make it over the cresting top. I remember that sitting with the pack in the line up left me with no waves to catch, so instead of paddling over the wave, I turn around, paddle and manage to catch this wave. The drop from the wave top is like sliding down the outside of a multi storey building as the whole thing falls down around you. I make the bottom turn and then try and outrun the atomic bomb of the wave detonating behind me. The whole wave is lining up across the bay leaving the pack with no safe sanctuary to wait this set out.

I surf the wave through the deep water channel where it mows down the whole pack who thought they were safe. Somehow managing to ride it to the sand, where I struggle up the steep Bells Beach foreshore. My glory is somewhat lessened when I trip and fall face down in the sand, my feet tangled in my leg rope. Still I’m mobbed and almost carried up the stairs to the car park by a large contingent of spectators who all seemed impressed by my deeds (I’m still wondering what on earth had just happened).

What did happen?

Not being able to catch a wave in a crowded line up meant I needed to change my strategy. This was extremely scary as the locals new what they were doing and I was potentially placing myself in some harm by taking a different course of action. But aren’t we told this is so much like life. If we follow others we’ll end up like others do. We’ll have the same income, lifestyle, quality of life as those we associate with. I so didn’t want to waste my surf sessions so I was determined to do something different to change the outcome.

I was fearful being in the ocean amongst waves of consequence where if you get it wrong you’ll probably be atomised. Your name added to a growing list of others who met a similar end. I couldn’t extinguish my fear but I could manage it to the point where I could function. I could choose which wave to catch. By committing myself to the decision that I would and could catch a wave, I was reducing the brain space for fear to occupy. I was too involved in the thinking process for what it would take to catch such a very large wave that I didn’t have a whole lot of time, thinking space or interest to be overly fearful. This meant I could manage the situation, achieve my objective, survive my experience and return home to my wife and dog, telling them what an awesome surfer I was. At least the dog was impressed.

Most of life is not a do or die experience but a slow grind. Nonetheless fear can manifest in self doubt, negative talk and lack of self esteem. In can slowly grind us down in our marriage, in our job, how we approach our health and well being. We can reach the point where we just don’t care and as the years slip by we kind of just give up. I’m saying it doesn’t have to be like this. Fear, doubt, anxiety don’t have to stain our lives with black depression.

I’ve found that what’s been required of me to manage surfing big waves has taught me that staying committed to an action (a relationship, your health, a job) gives you a purpose and a meaning to keep at bay self doubt and feelings of failure on our long wave ride through life. When fear does rear up, acknowledging it but then keeping it boxed up and not letting it seep into the rest of life has let me live a life of adventure.

Sometimes we do need to take stock of our situation and maybe not follow the same routine as everyone else. Maybe that career or relationship actually isn’t meant for us and the worry, anxiety and doubt is actually our inner voice telling us to reflect on this and that possibly this isn’t the best situation we should be in. Yes, perhaps there are times when fear is telling me to paddle in rather than further out. Fear isn’t trying to kill us. Instead fear is shouting at us to wake up. It can be a guide if we let us. It can help me be my very best in huge surf or it can tell me to leave a dangerous situation.

Perhaps our current path isn’t giving us what we want from life and this could be allowing self doubt and depression to creep in. Sometimes going out on your own can lead to your wave of a lifetime. You’ll never know unless you paddle in a different direction to the pack.