Hard to believe it was almost 50 years ago...on Thanksgiving day, 1974, Reno and I paddled out for our heat in the Smirnoff Contest at Waimea Bay. There were the biggest waves ever for any event on the fledgling pro surfing tour, it was also the biggest surf either of us had ever been in. We caught several waves each at the start of the heat in the 18'-20' range, raising our confidence. There were, however, bigger sets rolling through that were easily 10' taller and everyone just tried to stay out of their way. Reno looked at me and said, "If we want to win...we gotta catch those big ones!" Looking outside, the dark lines of a very large approaching set were plain to see and we both sprinted to...well, I guess to get in position. I have to say that I wasn't altogether sold on this plan but followed Reno's lead nonetheless, if, perhaps, somewhat half heartedly. We paddled over an enormous swell, already much further out than where we had caught our earlier rides. There, rearing up before us, was the biggest wave I'd ever seen up this close and personal. The only thought going through my little mind was to get up and over to the other side of it and even that was going to be a close thing as it was standing up, ready to break. Reno was out ahead in a much better position to escape this monster when he surprised me practically right out of my surf trunks by spinning around, paddling hard to catch it. I was off my board, pushing it up through the breaking lip as he leaped to his feet, his rail just inches from mine but headed the opposite way, down the side of the Pali. I'll never forget the look in his eye at that moment, our faces were no more than a foot apart...it was sheer, absolute determination, full warrior mode, something I realized that I sure didn't have in me that day. And needless to say, that was something to see....keep paddling, Brother Reno!