Elixir

Chapter One ; ; ;Taylor stood atop the cliff of Guethary. The hill's curved ascent formed an immense sound baffle so that the ocean roared at him from all sides. Below him the narrow cobblestone lane snaked between red-roofed Basque houses to the medieval harbor. Further out to sea, the cliff's natural enclosure had been extended into great stone arms. These protective walls rose twenty feet above the ocean's surface and narrowed the harbor mouth. Today the surf was so mammoth each inside wave crashed over the walls and bathed the stone in foam. A mist rose from the skirmish of water against rock, drifting like earthbound clouds. Taylor Knox breathed the salt-laden air and knew a piercing regret over having been brought to this magnificent realm on such an impossible quest. ; ; A trio of doll-sized surfers began the paddle through the harbor entrance and out into the wash. The outside break was gigantic. Even from this height, Taylor knew that he was staring at the biggest waves he had ever seen. It was one thing to dream about surfing the behemoths of the Basque country. It was another thing entirely to have no excuse for not paddling out. ; ; "Puts the old gut in a right twist, that." Kenny Dean was a Brit who had migrated from London to Devon by way of Australia's Gold Coast. "First time I caught sight of the heavies out there, I felt the old fear factor grab my throat like a noose." He clapped Taylor on the shoulder. "Cheer up, Yank. It's a lot worse than it looks." ; ;Red Harris moved up to Taylor's other side. "I don't see how that's possible." ; ; "Get yourself down to sea level; things will look different, believe you me." Kenny sounded vastly satisfied with the prospect. "Eyeball to eyeball, these beasties have a way of positively clearing the mind." ; ;There were a lot of people watching, but fewer than two dozen surfers in the water. Taylor stood in a tiny park on a cliffside promontory, surrounded by surfers from around the globe-Japan, Brazil, Spain, Portugal, California, New Zealand, France, Australia. Knights in neoprene armor, drawn by the prospect of battling the mythical dragons in their deep blue realm. ; ; "Time to motivate," Kenny urged. "It doesn't get better with the waiting." ; ;The three of them suited up and started down the cobblestone lane. The alley was shadowed by the close-set Basque houses, all of them whitewashed and asymmetrical. The Basque considered their village architecture a gesture of both unity and defiance. The bright red roofs shone in the sunlight like brilliant steps clambering up the Pyrenees cliffside. ; ;They rounded the final corner and halted. The blue sky and light offshore wind were mocked by rumbling thunder. All the gaily colored Basque fishing boats were in harbor today. Late August and early September marked the first of the big Arctic howlers, lows deeper than hurricane eyes and storms broad as Greenland. Two thousand miles north, a tempest was sending out waterborne mountains. For the past three days, as Taylor and his traveling buddies had made their way south from the Normandy ferry port, all the French surf shops and surfers' hostels had meteorological charts tacked to their front doors. Forget the tourist brochures and their photos of placid Riviera waters. This was France's other face. The Basque locals still called the Bay of Biscay by its medieval name, the Bone Coast. ; ;The water was jewellike beyond the harbor walls, flattening between sets until the sea became a vivid reflection of the sky's brilliant blue. Then the next set stacked up like liquid corduroy, and the first wave struck the harbor walls. The sound of water upon stone was a great boomingDavis Bunn is the author of 'Elixir', published 2004 under ISBN 9780849944710 and ISBN 0849944716.