Where I live...the real NORCAL (anything North of SF)...there is always the chance that Mr. White is in residence, lurking just below the surface of the constantly frigid greenish hued liquid that I enjoy frolicking in.
Now, I'm not ignorant of the facts or percentages...I know the score: if you surf, you're likely to see something that is not a normal byproduct of a life lived on the land. Moreover, you learn to accept "The Fear" as a integral part of the surfing experience that transforms an extraordinary exercise activity into a transcendental trip for the soul. In other words, you either learn how to deal, or you don't surf.
Well, about a year and half ago I was out with my surfing buddy for an early morning/early fall dawn patrol session at our favorite beach break. Beautiful sets of waist-to-head high liquid playgrounds for us carve on, rolled lazily through the line-up while the rising sun gleamed crystal beams of light all around us.
However, little did any of us stupid and feeble humans realize that Mr. White was about to introduce himself to Surfer Sue's board.
Sue arrived late to the session, paddling out and placing herself about 50 feet behind me, to my right. I had been in the water for about an hour, catching my share of fun and wanting more (on those rare days up North when the sandbars are working perfectly), when I heard the scream.
Sitting atop my 10'2" Velzy Pig shape, I quickly turned around to see Sue falling backward into the water while the other surfers, situated behind her and on the inside, began swimming frantically for the shore.
"OH FUCK...She just got knocked off her board by something", I thought to myself as I quickly raised my legs out of the water (yeah...I tried to dismiss what I was witnessing by thinking that it may have been a wayward seal...the mind will do this when one is confronted with Mr. White).
My surfing buddy was farther away from the action and completely oblivious to the action, thus his opinion was not accessible for overcoming the onslaught of my self-imposed stubbornness as my mind tried to rationalize the incident: Fuck it...that shark is long gone by now...took a bite of the board and deemed it unworthy of its highly acute tastes...probably out to sea by now...I'm gonna keep on surfing...No way some shark is gonna scare me off of some fun waves!
By now, the entire flotilla of surfers that had been in the water were now onshore, yelling at me and my buddy (still completely oblivious to what had happened) to get out of the water. My surfing buddy, being the reasonable kind and open to learning why people are yelling at him, swam over within ear-shot and learned the disheartening news. He then, quite bravely, swam over to me and convinced me to give up the ghost and call it a day.
Upon exiting the water, we saw the damage and considered ourselves lucky enough to play Super-Lotto (I did not win).
Included in this post is the link to the story via Surfline, with additional commentary by one of those surfers that stood on the beach yelling at me and my stubborn self. Enjoy.
http://www.surfline.com/surf-news/great-white-bites-into-longboard-in-humboldt-county-surfer-not-injured-shark-encounter-in-norcal_11376/
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