A wooden sign posted along the dirt path to the ocean reads: “SUPERTUBES: BEWARE OF ROCKS, SHARKS AND LOCALS”
Supertubes is a surf spot hidden along the coast of Malibu, California. Its thrilling tubular waves attract only the most skilled and talented surfers. There’s no sandy beach for sun-tanners at Supertubes. Towering fifteen-foot waves break onto sharp cliffs—powerful and strong waves that discourage mediocre surfers from attempting a ride. For the few brave souls stoked enough to ride these thrilling bombs, the only time to face these liquid barrels is the dead of winter.
A lone female surfer sits on her board in the water waiting for a wave. There’s an odd serenity as she looks towards the coastline like she’s only a visitor from some distant land. Liana Edwards, thirty-three, knows these waters well. She lies on her board and paddles. She feels for the right time, rises onto her board and catches a magnificent tubular wave. She exists in five seconds of heaven inside the tube. The rocky cliffs ahead mark the end of her ride. Liana has faced these cliffs thousands of times before. She learned to surf even before she learned to walk. There’s no reason for her to not time this right. But she doesn’t.
Liana surfs straight into the rock.
Her voice, distant and detached: “If you asked me what I was thinking at the moment of my death, I’d say nothing.”
Liana is thrown from her board. There’s a whirlwind of sand, water, and then silence. She continues, “When you’re in the tube you don’t think about anything. That’s why you keep chasing it.”
Liana fights to keep her head above water as another wave breaks into her. The pressure of the wave sends her body crashing into the rocks once again. Her body goes limp. She sinks below the surface.
