This beach is unusually steep. I’m standing at the bottom of the hill, right where the coarse black sand meets the ocean; if I turn my head  I can barely see over the crest. In the distance to my right, a cliff rises abruptly out of the sand, and off  to my left the beach narrows to a point where the dark green hills come crawling down to the water. The slow swell of the Pacific gets bunched up against the steeply rising ground, and as it does a turquoise grey wall of water rises up in front of me. I square my shoulders for the impact. The wave looms overhead for a moment then comes crashing down with a thunderous boom, pushing me several meters up the beach. As it washes back down in a frothing mixture of white foam and black sand, I can feel it pulling at my legs. I dig in my heels and stand fast, the swirling rocks pelting my legs as they rush past. There is an element of danger here but you can master it. You must judge the power of the wave as it approaches, take a step forward or back, find a balance between fear and exhilaration.