Administrative Leave (originally published on Wetsand.com)

“Administrative Leave” March 2007

The term “Administrative Leave” may not mean much to the average Joe except in the context of something like “Officer So and So has been placed on Administrative Leave pending the outcome of the investigation”, but such a seemingly innocuous term can also mean the difference between a 3 day crowded holiday weekend at San Onofre with the rest of humanity, and a legitimate two week southern hemisphere surf trip.  I am a Special Agent with one of the alphabet soup of agencies that comprise the US Government’s intelligence and law enforcement community.  Not quite a cop, not quite an Intelligence Officer, but somewhere in between, and while I enjoy the work I do, it means that the days of dusty, month long trips to Baja, or weeks in Barbados drinking rum and waiting for Soupbowls to come up are well behind me.  I work a lot, and don’t have a lot of vacation time, at this point, when it comes to surfing, I take what I can, when I can, however I can…well, you get the idea.

This is where the Administrative Leave bit comes in.  In the Federal Government, Administrative Leave is excused time away from work that Uncle Sam gives its employees to do something work related, Special weapons training at Fort Benning would be a good example. In my case, when the memo from Headquarters in Washington DC came down via email stating in pertinent part:  “Special Agents may be eligible for Administrative Leave to compete in the 2007 World Police and Fire Games to be held in Adelaide, Australia.”  I thought I was hallucinating.  I could go to Australia without burning scarce vacation time?  All I had to do was find some event to compete in, write a memo and I would be on my way.   Searching through The Games website, I found the list of events, and started scrolling through “Archery” and “Badminton”, past “Cycling”, “Pistol-Police Combat” when I got to the S’s, I beheld that “Surfing” is an event in the World Police and Fire Games.  Did Christmas come early this year?.  Within  minutes, my request  was sent up the chain of command and I was a paid, registered contestant for Men’s Senior Shortboard.  As I was registering, it occurred to me that I might actually finish better in the contest on my longboard, and that a longboard would provide additional protection from the multitude of big White Sharks in the area, but I dismissed such thoughts as I imagined dragging a 10 footer through the circus that is the International Terminal at LAX.  My request was approved, I booked a ticket, and was on my way.

Following an incredibly long, yet surprisingly pleasant flight on Air New Zealand, I landed in Adelaide, Australia. Sitting next to the Southern Ocean, Adelaide has a salubrious Mediterranean climate, conducive to wine making, not unlike California or Italy.  Adelaide is the capital of the state of South Australia with a population of 1.1 Million, yet the Aussies I met always referred to it as “a country town”.  The Adelaide Convention center in the center of town was the focal point of the 2007 Wold Police and Fire Games. With almost 10,000 competitors from around the world, the scene at the Convention Center was not unlike the cantina from Star Wars, with a strange mix of people, speaking a Babel-like mix of languages.  Upon arrival I went for my “Athlete Credentials” and had to weave my way through a group of gigantic Maryland State Troopers, and  past a wrestling match on the floor of  Convention Center between an Iranian National Policeman and a cop from the Czech Republic.  I made my way out to Cooper’s Alehouse on the Torrens, a improvised pub which was erected for The Games on the grass next to the Torrens river which runs through town.  I saw a heated conversation develop between a member of the Helsinki Fire Department and a Canadian Mountie in full dress uniform, I noticed that it was “Canadian Night” at the pub and, situation reasonably explained, disregarded them in favor of my pint.  I  grabbed a chair and sat back on the lawn to enjoy a few rounds of “Dragon Boat Racing” in the river while the sun set.  For those who don’t know, Dragon Boat Racing is quite obviously a boat race, with a large number of people paddling a craft not unlike a Viking warship as fast as they can against other crews doing the same thing. Sipping my beer, watching the race,  I wondered if each team had to bring their own Dragon Boat to Australia, and if so, is there is some sort of federation to ensure that all Dragon Boats conform to the same Ancient Viking Code of Dragon Boating?  Nobody I talked to seemed to know anything about it, and seemed to further distance themselves from me the more I asked about it, either way, the races made for great viewing and after several beers, I turned in for the night.  The next morning I picked up my rented micro-utility vehicle and headed out to the venue  for the surf contest.

Since Adelaide is not on the water, the surf contest was held about 100 kilometers away near the quiet beach town of Victor Harbor.  I arrived in Victor Harbor a day before the contest  to explore the area a little bit and hopefully surf as well.   My surf exploration took me all over the Fleurieu Peninsula, with several surf sessions, the first involved getting repeatedly beaten down at an overhead, hollow, closed out beach break for about an hour, followed later in the day by a mushy, but fun, chest high session at a local reef/point, where I met some of the members of The South Australian Police who would also be competing in the event, and who would later be instrumental in helping me find surf around South Australia, a place to stay, and turning me on to an elusive and wonderful food item known as the “Cheese Kransky.”  As I traveled around in my car I discovered a theme that would be constant throughout my stay in South Australia-that between the locals, the organizers, and the other competitors, there was a real feeling of camaraderie among surfers, much like I imagine California was like fifty or sixty years ago.  Everyone I met was happy to talk, share knowledge and just generally have a good time.  Even salty old locals who weren’t in any way related to the contest or the competitors were not put out by the invasion of 70 plus non-local surfers and happy to talk surf and share local knowledge.  In retrospect, the local shark population probably keeps the notion of California style crowds a complete abstraction in South Australia. The day ended well with a few beers back in Adelaide followed by a twelve plus hour jetlag-busting sleep in anticipation of the coming event.

The contest was to be held at Wiatpinga Beach, which The World Stormrider Guide describes as “Seriously hollow, but beware of rips and White Pointers.” Not encouraging. On the day of the event, Waitpinga thankfully wasn’t working so the contest was moved 10 kilometers to what I was assured was a “way less sharky break”.  Right.  I nervously paddled out for my first heat despite the shark spotting plane in the air, and shark spotting boat just outside the line up.  The water temp and air temp were just about perfect.  The heat consisted of myself, two Australians, and one Spaniard.  The surf had been pretty bad up to that point, and during my the heat, it went completely flat.  The first ten minutes of the heat burned by without me catching a single wave, it didn’t help that I was sitting outside hoping for a miracle, and assumed everybody inside was catching waves.  By the end of the heat, I managed to grab two  mushburgers from the outside and paddled in at the horn.  Little did I know that everybody else was having the same trouble I was and when the judges tally came in, I advanced   Apparently catching 2 barely rideable waves was about as good as it got in that heat, and I would compete again in the quarter finals the next day.

That night, I hooked up with the local “Coppers” and “Firey’s” and went to the The Surfer’s Pub, a typical country Australian pub.  While waiting to order dinner, I  managed to spot one of the SA SWAT guys setting me up, convincing the girl who takes the food orders to ask the gullible tourist (me) if I wanted a side of  fried koala ears with my dinner.  Hilarious.  As it was, I did try kangaroo, and  although I am loath to admit it, was delicious.  My sincere apologies to the Australian marsupial community.  I spent the rest of the night downing beers with the best of South Australia’s emergency services, breaking only to help some very absent minded Spaniards on the phone try and negotiate their way back to the pub to pick up one of their surfboards that they had forgotten.  The interesting thing is that not only do I not really speak Spanish very well, but I didn’t have any idea how to get to the pub.  Somehow between Australian English directions coming in through one ear, translated through my beer affected American/Mexican gibberish, and then repeated back to me in Castillian Spanish through the other ear, we managed to get the guys to the pub and retrieve their board.  Sending them on their way to explore the rest of the country for a few weeks, I marveled at the lubricating effect of beer on trans-lingual discussions and wished them farewell.  The remainder of the night is a blur of beers, jokes, and a hazy image of a couple tandem surfing in the bar, followed by  a zany ride in the back of a police urban assault vehicle and a deep sleep on a folding cot labeled “Property of SA STAR Team”

The next morning as seems always to be the case after a night of drinking, the surf came up (sort of).  As I reported groggily to my heat, I noticed with some relief that the other two guys in my heat were two of the same guys I was drinking with at the pub with the night before.  I paddled out through my headache and into some mushy, chest high, offshore surf.  I had one decent wave and a couple of pretty poor ones, but, surprisingly it was enough to advance again, perhaps those guys drank a few more than I did, or the judges happened to sneeze during their rides, either way I was somehow still in the contest.

By the time the semi-finals arrived in the afternoon, my hangover had not improved.  The horn signaling the start of the heat bounced around in my head like a raquetball.  I paddled out again with  leaden arms against some refreshed looking Aussies, who most certainly were not at the pub with us the night before.  Again the waves again would not cooperate, and by minute 15, each of us had one wave each with roughly the same score.  I paddled for a left, caught it, did two quick turns and then a floater and realized that this now gave me the lead.  “I might make the finals” I thought hopefully, “I could win a medal” I then thought confidently, quickly followed by “I could quit my job and go pro ”  It was at that moment that a head high set rolled in from the outside and steamrolled me with whitewater.  I watched  the two other guys each get a good wave apiece, as I was uselessly scratching to get outside.  This took me decisively out of the lead and right into 3rd place for the heat.  I quickly tried to get a scoring ride, and  got to my feet just as the buzzer rang, but the wave was small and gutless, and I couldn’t make enough of it.  My professional surfing career was over before it started.  In the end, good surfing ability,  the fireman’s work schedule and local knowledge beat out  mediocre surfing ability, a cardiovascular regimen of spending long hours on vehicle surveillance, and a penchant for Australian pubs.   Back on the beach laying in the sand, I watched the finals as one of the guys who beat me, ended up beating out everybody else and taking the gold.  He is a nice guy and a good surfer who deserved to win, congratulations Tim.  For my part, I finished 6th out of 24, far better then I expected to, and far better than had I been in the US, sitting at my desk with a latte.  The contest was a blast, the Aussies were great, and minus the ever present fear of being eaten by a Great White, the surf was even fun.  The 2009 World Police and Fire Games are going to be in Vancouver BC… I had better start working on my memo.

My thanks go out to all of the members of the South Australian Police STAR Team who’s hospitality made the competition unforgettable.

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