Divers make their
By Matthew Kawika Ortiz
point at The PointEVERY year after the last day of school, a raucous bunch of "freeee" kids, mostly teens, congregate to celebrate the beginning of summer at Laie Point on the Windward side. Their primary reason for being there is to feel the thrilling rush of jumping off a 35-foot cliff called The Point.
The Point has the same qualities as Waimea's Jump Rock on the North Shore, except that The Point has a shallow and rocky bottom. Jump off Waimea on a stormy day and you get washed up on the sand. Jump off The Point on a stormy day and your brains wash up on the reef.
Summer's here and my friends and I can't think of a better way to beat the heat than by spending a day jumping off The Point. Like standing in the middle of an inferno, the heat of the blazing sun permeates the still air around us. My friends and I peer over the treacherous cliff, and from our roost we enjoy a panoramic view of the Windward coast.
An infinite expanse of ocean stretches before us, offering fun and adventure. Suddenly, a hot breeze races past us, abruptly ending our dreamy cogitation. Beads of sweat chase each other down the contours of our squinting faces and yet, in spite of this, no one wants to jump first.
So there we are, four sweating friends standing above the cool, inviting waters. We all act tough, as though none of us is scared to jump first, saying in our most macho voices, "Break the ice, Matt!" or "Break the ice, Mark!"
This can go on for a while until someone finally takes the leap of faith and jumps in. After this, we have two options: Pile in after him like lemmings or leave him treading water like shark bait.
Tourists are curious creatures by nature, so when they see us about to jump off The Point, they turn into a trigger-happy, camera-clicking audience.
I guess you can say that we're shameless. We'll do anything to get attention. One time my friend Aaron jumped off The Point and, in mid-air, mooned a crowd of shocked tourists with camcorders rolling. Jerry Springer would have been proud!
Sometimes we do flips, or "suicides," for the Japanese tourists. They're always eager to take as many pictures as possible and we take advantage of that. We joke about charging them $5 per picture and $10 for an autograph, but who would want a picture of a moon in mid-air?
BELOW The Point there is a small underwater tunnel that we swim through called the Toilet Bowl. Once, I tried to dive into the tunnel head first but I missed and slammed my cranium into a choral head.
Shocked and bloodied, I pried myself from the obstacle and ran home. I rushed past my horrified mom in the kitchen, looked in the mirror, and the reflection of Quasimodo, the Hunchback of Notre Dame, glared back at me. That dreadful day I learned a lesson: Always dive with a helmet!
On better days, my friends and I would often see a large green sea turtle swimming, but we could never get very close to him because he wasn't a social kind of fellow. But once while I was treading water after a jump, a turtle popped up next to me! He didn't seem scared and just floated around me. Slowly grabbing his shell, I was towed by my new underwater scooter and he gave me a brief tour of his reef.
But all good things come to and end. I finally ran out of breath and was forced to resurface. When I looked back down, the turtle was gone. Though I'd had the ride of my life, all was not well with my friend the turtle. While holding onto him I noticed tumors on his body. I never saw him again.
But the cycle continues. Summer is finally here. The sun's out. The ocean is calm. And I'm going to The Point.
Matthew Kawika Ortiz, 14, is homeschooled
and says "experience is the greatest teacher."Rant & Rave is a Tuesday Star-Bulletin feature
allowing those 12 to 22 to serve up fresh perspectives.
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