Azmie and I had spent the day on mainland waiting for Zam and his wife in Kuala Besut and then with the boat mechanic in Kota Bharu. By the time we were finished with our business and back at the Kuala Besut jetty, ready to head back to the island it was already late in the afternoon. No more fast boats were leaving for the island that day because the wind was strong and the sea was too rough. The captain of a large, slow boat was seriously contemplating whether he would head home and take the 30 or 40 people who would otherwise be stuck in Kuala Besut for the night. The slow boat finally boarded the people and headed out. Azmie spent about 30 minutes watching the waves at shore, the white caps on the horizon, and the wind before deciding that we would go for it rather than spending the night on mainland where extremely conservative culture would not permit us to share a hotel room or even hold hands. He asked if I was okay to go to the island or if I was scared and wanted to spend the night in Kuala Besut. Since I had never crossed the rough sea in a small boat, I had no idea what we were in for. So I said that I would trust his decision to go or not.
The wind was mellowing and it was still a couple of hours until sunset so we dropped off the car with Azmie's uncle and picked up the boat from the secret parking spot. The easterly winds from the South China Sea pushed waves and current towards mainland, which would add time onto our journey as if pushing up river. As we pulled out into the river and then into the open sea our speed went from slow and steady to fast then stop, fast then stop, fast then stop. Azmie drove against the waves by gunning it to climb the front of the wave then pulling back the throttle at the peak to try not to jump the entire boat out of the water. If that happened at too sharp of an angle the boat could crash down too much in the back and enough water could crash into the boat to tip it or sink it. The amount of concentration required by Azmie was comparable to that required of driving in a blinding blizzard of freezing rain on steep and sharp turning, slippery, narrow mountain roads. The waves didn't come at us all from the front or in any sort of pattern. Some were small and mild and others were easily five or six times higher than us, and they came at us from the front and both sides. When a big one approached, the valley that proceeded put enough water around us that we could not see the horizon in any direction. Azmie was aware and his reflexes were fast. My job was easy; hold on, and occasionally scoop water out of the back that had crashed in over the sides of the boat. Other than the kidney jarring bumpiness of it all I felt safe like Azmie had control of the situation. However there was a moment there when my heart pounded a little faster than usual as a huge wave approached. Azmie said, "Oh shit!" and hit the throttle all the way to get to the top of the wave without getting pummeled. The boat jumped entirely out of the water and at the same time another peak of a huge wave hit us from the side, which tipped us enough to make me grab tight onto something. While in mid-air the engine cut out. If the boat turns sideways against a wave the boat could easily be tipped. Azmie quickly restarted the engine, pushed the throttle and turned the boat into the oncoming wave. Whew!
After that incident the sea floor got deeper and the waves were smaller. A drive that in normal conditions takes 20 or 30 minutes with that kind of a fast boat, that day took us an hour and a half. Now I know what Azmie really meant all the times he told me he had to "fight the choppy".
After we were safe at the island we reflected back on how dangerous and scary the drive home was. I told him that when the engine cut out was the only time I was scared a little bit. I trusted his judgment because he had lived here most of his life and had to weigh that same decision many, many times before. He told me that his father always told him that he must trust his heart. If he thinks he can make it then he must go and he must make it. If he has a doubt, then he must not even try because turning back once you're mid-way can be even more dangerous than continuing on course.
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