An unexpected lesson

It was a cold winter’s afternoon. A storm raged and thrashed about the shoreline. Jack, opening a bottle of DB, reclined into his lazy boy to watch soccer on TV. Peter, his brother, came hurrying down the stairs and dropped into the couch next to him. “I heard there’s no wind further up the coast, the waves should be great. Want to get out the surfboards? ” Peter coaxed. “No way. It’s too dangerous. Look outside man, look at the storm!” Jack replied. “Well I am the best of the best, the storm would be nothing to me.” retorted Peter, “what can happen, besides-”
“Peter, stop being so god dam arrogant! You can never be certain in this type of weather!”
“Coward” Peter shouted as he stamped outside, slamming the door behind him, as he rushed into the car for the short journey.

Peter drove along the coast, glancing around, searching for other surfers which of whom had all retreated to the safety of their homes. “Cowards” Peter muttered under his breath. Alarms from the harbour were being set off, as a last warning of the howling storm. Peter could hear the moan of the lighthouse foghorn warning ships of the approaching danger as they made ready to slip the moorings. Having passed the harbour, Peter arrived at the shore, eyeing the breaking waves he hopped into the water, lying face down on his surfboard, he began to paddle. A breeze began to gust above peter, whistling through his hair, singing its own tale of woe. In the heavens, thunder thrashed around, generating a lightening that illuminated the night sky, casting eerie shadows upon the sea. Below the thundering sky, and above the thrashing waves, for the first time, Peter felt a chill down his spine.

Peter continued to paddle, making sure the board’s nose was well above the water. Proudly surveying the waters ahead, Peter picked up pace, looking back, the seashore had now become a string of yellow in the distant horizon. “There’s no going back now” Peter thought. The huge waves caused Peter to pitch and sway, like a piece of discarded rubbish upon the high seas. The sea screamed and thrashed expelling its anger in its own way, sending salt spraying into Peter’s face, stinging his skin and eyes. Peter began to slow down, quadrant by quadrant peter examined, awaiting the perfect wave. It proved to be fruitless, for all there was were just spontaneous waves smashing and thrashing about. “This isn’t good. This is unusual” Peter thought. In the middle of the ocean, miles away from shore, Peter began to panic.

"Are you sure?" shouted the lifeguard.
"Definitely" replied the Jack “he just ran out of the house, I am pretty sure he was headed for the sea.” Jack watched the lifeboat's compass swing aimlessly, keeping one eye on the angry sea ahead. The severity of the storm had damaged it all. Jack was worried that they would be late, and not make it in time for the end of the game. The lifeguard was not to be beaten by these events. He explained to Jack, "All is not lost, we can easily get home by instinct, just they did in the old days. We'll be home before supper" Peter sighed. His mind was on football match, dying to know the result of the game.

Peter looked around, clutching his board tightly to his chest, he paddled him self in position for the next wave. He looked back, concentrating on the approaching wave, and carefully timing his next move. The wave drew closer, steadily rising to become a soaring blue wall. Peter, firmly grasping on to the rail of the board, drew the board from underneath him with his legs, maneuvered into a crouching position. Suddenly, out of nowhere from astern came a towering wave in full speed, the colossal wall towering over the Peter, advanced with rapid momentum. Peter could not move. Convinced now that he had met his fate, he wanted to run, to get away, and to be in the warmth of his home watching the game with his brother. The tumultuous wave, like a rampant animal, crashed down onto Peter in a torrent of blue and white mess, sweeping Peter of his feet. His body flailed lifelessly, submerging into the deepest depths of the icy chasm below.

The arctic water around him felt like a thousand knives being driven into his body. His lungs ached for oxygen, his muscles felt anesthetized. Peter closed his eyes. An old memory began to resurface. Peter remembered that his grandfather Ganwil, a surfer himself, had told him a tale, a tale of a young surfer much like himself who ignored the storm and decided to surf the biggest wave. The young man had lost his life of course, but Peter thought he was just weak. “Peter, stop being so god dam arrogant! You can never be certain in this type of weather.” he heard those words ring in his mind, although he knew it was too late, Peter began to realize he should have listened. Then Peter lost consciousness.

“Peter, stop being so god dam arrogant!” Peter felt fresh salt air rush into his lungs, he felt a searing pain in his chest as he began to regurgitate water. “You can never be certain in this type of weather right?” Jack asked. Jack was sitting next to Peter on the rocking lifeboat. As a child, Peter had always been the best and the strongest. He had thought of other people as inferior, unworthy and cowards. Peter had never listened to other people. Now, for the first time in his life, Peter realized that his brother was completely right, that he should have listened. As tired as he was, Peter managed to stand up. The journey to the seashore was short, the fall into the ocean was even shorter, but the idea Peter learned would last forever.