Cheating death

World tow-in champion surfer GARRETT MCNAMARA gets pulled by drivers on Jet Skis into monster curls of water. At speeds of up to 70 mph, some of those waves could crush his skull. And on a tandem ride on some of the planet's hairiest waves in Teahupoo, Tahiti, they almost did--that was Oct. 2, 2005, a day he now calls his own "Sunday Bloody Sunday." Here's how he tells it.

A BIG WAVE WAS COMING AND my driver and I were going for it. But I didn't know this other surfer had let go of his driver's towrope and was trying for it as well. I had to totally change the direction I was heading because of his Jet Ski. When I did, I almost fell backward, and I bobbled at the bottom of the wave. I was getting barreled by the water, but I didn't have enough speed to get out. I got sucked up, spit out, and gobbled up.

In that situation, you're like a grain of sand in the middle of a hurricane. I was holding on to my life jacket and going up and down with the water ... 20, 30 times. Each time, I would just say, "Thank you, God," because I hadn't hit the reef. But after five "Thank you, Gods"--boom! I hit this big coral head. It felt like a giant beanbag--made of the sharpest coral.

I came up dizzy--like I'd gone through a spin cycle. I gathered my senses and felt my wounds. From my knee to my hip, this giant piece of flesh seemed to be hanging, like someone had run a razor from my thigh to the back of my leg and sliced out a huge piece of meat. When my driver finally picked me up, I climbed on the Jet Ski and glanced at my leg. I let out a sigh of relief--that piece of dangling flesh was just my wet suit.

In Tahiti I once gave a guy who'd wiped out mouth-to-mouth for 20 minutes. He died three days later even though I did everything in my power to help. Now at times like this, I feel like he's looking out for me.

COPYRIGHT 2005 Weider Publications
COPYRIGHT 2008 Gale, Cengage Learning