Deeper

MOODY RUSE: The iconic view of the flat top with added depth. Photo Basson / Unsplash

Grant van der Vijver is passionate about water. The Cape Town surfer, who two decades ago left South Africa to explore the world, and in particular tropical islands off Asia, published the book in the thick of Covid-19, while in Fujisawa, Japan, where he now lives.

The novel, Deeper, is set in Cape Town, and is the coming-of-age story of young surf dude Luke, who is struggling to find his inner Zen while surfing off the Cape Peninsula. Older surfer dude Daniel, a drug-addiction survivor, takes him under his wing and they embark on a deepening (get it) spiritual journey while exploring their own obsessive narrative with the ocean.

Expect visceral descriptions of surfing and waves, as well as South African landmarks we know and love, laced with a smattering of life learnings and some obligatory surf jargon - but the prose is never trite; nor over-elaborate. It is just right. As a review on Amazon states: "Anybody who has surfed or spent time in the ocean will feel their muscle memory tingle. Just for these evocations, the novel is well worth reading. It’s a satisfying and, at times, thrilling journey for anybody who loves the ocean, surfing, or the beautiful Cape where this story plays out."

Below is an excerpt from the first chapter.

SHARK TOOTH: A scary big wave lurks at the foot of that sharp tower. Photo Cavalli / Unsplash

Sunrise Beach off the False Bay Coast

I force my board down and duck under the first wave. Even though I’m expecting it the shock takes my breath away. Salt water forces through the neck of my wetsuit making my skin contract. It’s cold! Really cold. My head starts to tingle and burn as the water wraps me in an icy sheet. The sea pours down my head and face, and forms wet pools in my ears. Thin streams enter my mouth as I gasp for air. On the deck of my board transparent beads gather and swarm, shivering in the mid-winter offshore wind. They cling together like quicksilver, running in the folds and resting in the pores of wax, then roll away to spill back into the heaving greyness of the Indian Ocean. I’m tensing up from the cold but I On the deck of my board transparent beads gather and swarm, shivering in the mid-winter offshore wind. They cling together like quicksilver, running in the folds and resting in the pores of wax, then roll away to spill back into the heaving greyness of the Indian Ocean.have to keep paddling. The impact zone is a mess. Close out waves are creating wall after wall of incoming white water. The choppy surface and shifting current make staying positioned on my board tricky, and I have to constantly stop to realign myself and then start paddling again. Looking several metres ahead I see the next wave is about to break. It’s bigger than the one before and I’ll need to thrust harder to get through. I paddle hard.

Deep strokes.

I aim at the rising blue-grey wall. Cold water bites at my hands but I ignore everything except the wave. As the gap between us narrows the final moments condense into a rough burst of action. A quick rush and the wave jacks up, but there’s a brief pause just before it breaks. I take the chance to adjust my position, prepare for the duck dive. It’s looking at me now, drawing me closer in. I aim the nose of the board at the top part of the wave and thrust myself into the curling face. Another full immersion in the dark surf feels like fire and ice to my senses. The wave takes me in and flows around me, pulling me through to the dim sunlight waiting behind. A breath-hold later I burst through the back and gulp in lungfuls of air. I made it but there’s no time for congratulations.

The set's not over and the next wave is bearing closer with each pounding second. I dig hard, paddling straight at the incoming swell. It's already peaking but I might be able to make it over the top. A hard drive takes me half way up the growing face - but I've misjudged it. The lip's curling too fast.

Got to try punch through!

WET SIDE: Even small waves pack a punch if you are not in the game. Photo Bishop / Unsplash

Arms straight out I shove the nose of my board forward and stab at the rushing water.

No!

The angle's all wrong - too steep. My head and chest are already inside the wave and I can feel its energy surging around me. My elbows are locked so the board doesn’t hit me in the face. I hug the board and then extend my arms again, thrusting deeper into the wave in a last effort to get through. All I can do is hope.

But the wave is unforgiving and suddenly I'm gathered up and swept over backwards as the lip begins to drop. I can feel the void waiting below me. A second before impact I somehow manage to twist my body to the right and push away from my board so that it doesn't hit me in the face. Then everything explodes and dark turmoil pummels me again as I slam into the water. Something whispers a warning to me and my arms wrap around my head to protect me from my board that’s in here somewhere with me. But this time I’ve hit the water flat so I don’t get pushed down as before. It just drags me for a few deep seconds and then lets go as the broiling energy rushes on to the shore.

It takes a few breaths for the disorientation to clear after I surface. My board is floating upside-down, the sea slapping from below. I've lost almost ten meters and know that the next wave is getting closer with each breath. Clawing back onto my board, I try to steady myself but I'm starting to pant from the exertion. The heavy plume of whitewater that detonates upwards and outwards in front of me tells me that I’m out of time. I force the nose down and attempt to duck dive through it but the dive is too shallow and I get caught up in the barrage of water and foam. Hurtling backwards, I manage to stay on my board using all my strength to keep it straight in the path of the wave. Seconds later it passes and again I'm left gasping for air.

Shit it’s cold!

Underneath, the water slaps at my board indifferently and each short sound is a sharp reminder of the cold, the loneliness and the struggle. Where the horizon should be all I see is another grey-blue wall approaching. I will myself back onto my board.

Come on! Breathe it out. Keep moving.

BIOGRAPHY @wordsfromwater

https://wordsfromwater.weebly.com/

Grant van der Vijver was born and grew up in Cape Town, South Africa. He has had a healthy obsession with water for most of his life, and is constantly fascinated by every aspect of it. Two decades ago a thirst for adventure and dreams of exploring the islands of Asia led him to the Far East. He lives on the coast in Fujisawa, Japan.

Get the book on Amazon HERE