Dawid's email arrives mid week. Proposed mini-Miller's to Long Beach, Simonstown. As a late-40's recreational paddler, too old to drink bad wine, I think this will be an ideal way to ease myself towards completing my first full Miller's Run. I check the long-term forecast – howling South Easter on Friday, but much more gentle on Saturday. If I can find a partner for the XT Double, then this looks peachy.

I should have realised something was up when Dawid tells me that Wanda can't paddle with me in the Double on Saturday, but that he, Dawid, would be happy to do the Run with me. Not being particularly valorous nor discrete, my "That'll be fantastic!" is on the reply email before I have any chance to engage my brain. I mean – who ever gets the opportunity to paddle in the same boat with the Best in the World? I am determined to put subsequent nagging doubts out of my mind, the more so as the Cape Doctor begins to blast through False Bay on Friday. But every roof-rattle and door-shake in the wind keeps me tossing and turning all Friday night.

Saturday dawns as perfect as one can ever wish for in the Cape in summer. As darkness flees across the Western horizon, I can see a gentle breeze ruffling across the swell at Outer Kom. If the False Bay side is like this, conditions will be ideal for my Miller's baptism. Heart in mouth, I grab my stuff, leap into the truck, and hurtle across the Noordhoek gap towards Fish Hoek, carefully scrutinising distant Helderberg for tell-tale cloud – a sure sign that the South Easter is pumping. Not a smudge of white, only the blue-grey crags of the far mountains against a sun-kissed sky. Cool!

Fish Hoek Beach Sailing Club is a hive of activity, all the hard-core Ocean Expert group busy loading skis onto the trailer, stuffing paddles, PFD's and assorted paraphernalia into the back of Dawid's bakkie. Mark helps me load XT onto the trailer top rack.
"Who's paddling with you?" he asks.
"Dawid", I reply.
Mark gives a wry smile and chortles.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I inquire. "I've paddled with Wanda, and all he knows is flat box all the way!"
"Who d'ya think taught him?" grins Mark.
Ok…

Eleven of us cram into the cab and the load box of Dawid's bakkie and with a trailer full of surf-skis we set out for Miller's Point, "Oom Godfrey" on the wheel. Feet dangling over the tail gate, I watch the road unwind behind me. Apprehensively, I keep glancing to my right across the bay, making certain the wind hasn't sprung up strongly. There is some cloud on the mountains now, but the sea still looks perfect, with some good wind-swell. I relax a little.

We arrive at Long Beach in Simon's Town. This is meant to be the end point, and some of our group are to leave their cars here. More skis are loaded onto the trailer. Dawid pays little mind to the activity, staring out to sea. Boats loaded, we are ready to go.
"Change of plan", Dawid announces. "Conditions are too good to waste. We're going to do a full Miller's Run". Mark nudges me in the ribs, and chuckles.
So off to Miller's Point we bounce, me checking the sea all the way. True to form, the wind-swell picks up as we round the coast past Boulders. "Nice day for a Miller's", somebody says. I swallow hard.

Unloading the skis at Miller's Point is a lot quicker than load-up and tie-down, everybody hyped to get onto the water. Rumbly Bay looks a little daunting at times, with some significant wind-swell pushing in occasionally. Dawid, careful as always, runs through a briefing and safety check. Flares? Leashes? PFD's? Cell phones? No have, no paddle! Eleven Singles and two Doubles. Stick together in groups. Have fun! See you on the beach!

I stand in the water on the Miller's Point slipway, holding the ski, hooked up and ready to go. Dawid is on the phone, talking to the guys at Fish Hoek, telling them that we are on our way. I watch apprehensively as the others paddle out towards Bakoven Rock. I study the form intently. It all looks fine. The first guys round the rock. Dawid is still on the 'phone. Again, I should have realised something's up. Once all the group are out of sight, Dawid finishes the call.

"Okay, pal – all I want you to do is concentrate on the starboard quadrant, see what I see and do what I do. Let's go!"

We roar out of Rumbly Bay, the swell catching us on the starboard beam. The XT is a beauty of a boat, stable as a rock and yet quite fast. With another mate, I've caught some awesome runs on this ski paddling back from Roman Rock lighthouse in a pumping South Easter. Man, you should hear this baby sing as she goes! I can't wait!

We rocket around the rock, and turn downwind for Fish Hoek. My initial adrenalin-charged hyperventilating calms to a pant at a mild gallop. But years of competitive rowing helps me slot very quickly into following Dawid's rhythm and pace. We begin to pick up a small run or two, Dawid coaching all the while, using a great One-Day cricket analogy. Keep the run rate ticking over, knocking off regular, short run "singles", interspersed with longer run "fours" and "sixes". The message is clear – don't try and make every run a "boundary" – you'll blow!

Just as I'm starting to settle down, I get blasted out of my comfort zone. A few minutes into the paddle, we come across the other Double. It's a Millennium, and the guys are struggling a bit to keep it upright. Dawid explains that the Millennium becomes hugely unstable just as the ski comes up the back of a swell. There is only one thing for it – we have to change boats. Great. If I'd wanted to swim from Miller's Point to Fish Hoek, I'd have brought flippers! But over I go, to adjust my footplate for the others. It's a struggle, trying to loosen the damned thing whilst treading water. I think momentarily about the Grey Men. I comfort myself by remembering that ticks, fleas and mozzies don't bite me, probably for fear of catching some dreadful disease. I figure the Big Fish instinctively feel the same. Andrew and Mark are circling around, keeping watch. Quite what they will do if we get Visitors is beyond me!

Eventually, we manage to sort out the footplates on both boats. The other guys mount up the XT, and immediately surf away from us. Dawid climbs into the forward seat of the Millennium, and braces this 'tippy bobber' as I wallow into the aft seat. I wedge myself in. Heart in my mouth, we begin to paddle. I've only ever been in a Millennium on flat calm days, and even then I swam regularly. In these conditions, I expect us to go over immediately. To my utter surprise, we don't. In fact, we get the ski up and running in short order, with only the very occasional brace. Soon, the rhythm sets in, and Dawid begins to crack on the pace. I see Roman Rock lighthouse in the far distance. We have a long way to go.

I now begin to realise why Dawid hung back at the Miller's Point slip, and why he's suddenly so cheerful. We are way, way behind everybody else. In fact, we can't even see them! But I can see a "hunter-killer" set in his shoulders. Clearly, he likes nothing more than to chase down the opposition, run them over, and blast past them. I pause momentarily to commiserate with those who might find themselves ahead of him in any race – the word "toast" comes to mind. But my thoughts are fleeting. No time to do anything else but concentrate on his starboard blade, check the quadrant, feel the boat underneath, anticipate the next "Yip!", crack on the pressure, and catch the runs.

Very soon, we are surfing ones and twos, with regular "boundaries" running 30 to 40 metres, Dawid whooping up front. All the while, he keeps a constant high rhythm, we pausing to flat-blade only as we catch the longer runs. The boat is charging like a stallion. She doesn't sing as loudly as the XT, but she seems far more responsive as we apply pressure. The pace is exhausting, but the rush of the ski flying down the runs really gees me up. I can't believe we've reached the lighthouse so quickly!

We pause for a breather. Dawid tells me to drink it all in, enthusing about everything around us. Easy, Tiger – I'm trying to get my wind here! But he's right - it's simply magnificent - the ramparts of Glencairn quarry rearing into an azure sky; the golden beaches sweeping around the bay; the Southern Right whales breaching and sailing across towards Muizenberg. It is something really special.

But – no rest for the wicked, we've got boats to catch! All too soon, we get going again. It seems the water is a lot shallower here, as the wind-swell steepens markedly. The boat starts to zing along, with some great long runs. And we begin to pick off those who had been ahead of us, one by one. Dawid selects a "target", keeps feeding me information, "Yip-Yipping" us onto the runs, and encouraging me all the while. I'm beginning to get really tired, but there is no stopping now. Arms up, swing the shoulders, keep the timing, "Yip-Yip", crack on the pressure, onto the run, surf away – Yee Hah! Pick it up again, now for the next one. We sprint along, catching and passing our mates.

Next moment, we're into the bay, surf-ski school paddlers coming out to meet us. Dawid hails everybody cheerily. Me, I'm too tired to even grunt. We surf up onto the beach and bail out. I grasp Dawid's hand, exhausted and exhilarated. I've just done my first Miller's Run, paddling with the World's best surf-skier. What a thing.

As my boys would say - "Sick, man!"

-o0o-