In the book Experience Pipeline, the waves are huge and you’re competing for the world title of surfing at Pipeline in Hawaii. Will you wipeout, chicken out, get injured, score a tube ride, win the contest or lose your nerve? Check out this sample storyline from the book. It is one of the 306 possible storylines in this multiple adventure story.

You, surfer, are on the beach at Pipeline, watching the sets closely as you wait for your heat to begin. The waves thunder across the nearshore reef, forming cavernous blue barrels and explosions of whitewater before rushing up the sand and expiring at your feet. Your pulse races as you focus in on winning the biggest surf contest of the year.

You are about to compete in the Pipe Masters event, the final stop on the professional surfing tour. The battle for the title of world champion has come down to three surfers: local talent Jacala Boy Bones, six-time world champ Neil “Nelly” Yater, and you. The three of you have made it to the final heat, which will begin any moment. The next twenty minutes will determine who wins the World Title of Surfing.

Now you’re given the go-ahead to paddle out. There’s a lull, so you and your two competitors race for the outside and make it to the lineup without incident. Two large sets roll by before the air horn sounds the official start of the heat.

You look over at Nelly, who nods and says, “This is it, time to go big.”

You look at Jacala Boy, who warns with a chuckle: “Eh surfahs! My beach, my waves!”

Just then, a set rises up over Third Reef, some two hundred yards outside. The three of you watch it march in and decide to let the first wave pass, but the second one looks perfect. You out-jockey Nelly, but not Jacala Boy. He’s a little deeper than you, but it doesn’t look like he’s committed himself yet. Nelly, however, looks intent on going, and you are also intent on going. You swing around and start paddling. You’re drawn backwards up the wave face, and when you reach the crest you have enough forward momentum to take the drop . . .

 

You hear a loud voice to your right warn: “Eh brah! Comin’ down!”

It’s Jacala Boy Bones, dropping in behind you. The wave is going vertical as you watch him spring to his feet and aim down the face. The wind blows harder offshore, but as the lip propels you forward, you may be irrevocably committed . .

 

It’s too late to pull back without getting sucked over the falls. You spring to your feet and drive down the wave face at rocket speed, right towards Jacala Boy Bones. Nelly pulls back, exiting the wave. But Jacala Boy is in the middle of his bottom turn, watching you with an infuriated look as your collision course now seems unavoidable. Your only option is to jump off your board, but you could injure yourself seriously doing that.

 

 

 

It’s too late now—you’re going too fast. You crash into Jacala Boy Bones and both of you go down hard. Seconds later, Pipeline’s guillotine-like lip falls, driving you perilously close to the reef and twisting your limbs every which way in the horrendous washing machine. The spectators on the beach gasp at your blunder and the lifeguards grasp their flotation devices, ready to dive in for a serious heavy-water rescue.

 

 

 

Suddenly you feel the reef tear into your thigh and see the water around you swirl red. You hold your leg and struggle upwards, surfacing beside Jacala Boy Bones as you both gasp for air. He looks at you with fierce anger, then turns and dives under the water again. You look up and see why: another set wave is about to unload on you. You take a quick breath and duck under the surface . . . but not in time. The wave crashes into you, knocking you silly.
Fortunately, you don’t hit the reef a second time.

When you resurface, Jacala Boy is swimming towards you, cussing angrily like he is going to pounce on you.

You hold a hand up and cry, “Sorry, Jacala Boy! There was nothing I could do!
I hit the reef and my leg’s pretty jacked!”

 

Your leg is messed up. It is throbbing with pain and bleeding steadily. Jacala Boy paddles over and looks at you sternly.

“Ho cuz, you alright oh wot?” he says.

“Jacala Boy—it’s my leg. I’m telling you, I think it could be serious.”

“Eh, let me look, brah,” he answers without emotion.

You slide off the side of your board and attempt to lift your leg out of the water.
By now, both of you aren’t so sure you want to see how bad it really is.

 

 

You raise your leg out of the water. It’s torn open badly.

“Shoot, brah,” Jacala says, flinching, “we betta get you in.”

On the beach, the water patrol are running a Jet Ski into the water.

“Jacala Boy,” you ask, “will you call the water patrol off? I want to finish
this debacle unassisted. I can get in alright on my own.”

He lets out a sharp whistle, then waves the water patrol back.
He gives you a push towards the channel and says, “Aloha, brah.”

You paddle in, then limp stoically up the beach.

 

 

 

Medics immediately rush up to you on the beach. They lay you down on a large plastic sheet and go to work on your leg. The media gather around.

A few minutes of pain go by, then a medic says: “Your leg is stabilized, and we’ve got a good wrapping on it. You can keep competing if you feel up to it. Another twenty minutes shouldn’t make it worse.”

You look up at your shaper and sponsors, who have breached the media circle, and say: “Get me a new board—a longer board with more rocker. I’m going back out there to win the world title!”

The audience erupts in cheers as you get to your feet. You’re handed a fresh stick, and you paddle back out. To the chagrin of your competitors, you immediately pick off a good wave from right under their noses. You score well, then take your position back out in the lineup.

 

 

A set rises over the outer reefs. Nelly is determined to keep you from scoring another good wave. He paddles hard to get deeper. You’re frustrated that he’s claiming your spot. You paddle harder than him, towards Backdoor. You easily glide ahead of him while Jacala Boy stays put and focuses intensely on the horizon.

The first wave builds into a perfect left. You’re deep, too far out of position, but you try for the wave anyhow. You paddle with all your might to get into it early.
Nelly pulls back.

The wave is legitimately yours, and you ride it with full-on speed and in a relaxed style. After riding through a spectacular tube, you perform a Bertlemann carve at the barrel exit.

 

 

 

Your board rides superbly and so do you, as you glide out into the afternoon sunlight. Johnny Daring, 1970s Pipeline demigod, admires your ride from the jacuzzi of a beachfront home.

Just after you exit the barrel, you hear the air horn sound the end of the contest.
Perfect! you scream inside your head. You angle your hefty board in towards shore. As you jump to your belly, your board catches some big chop and flips over. You land crotch–first on the large skeg.

“Ouuuuuuuu!” you wail in pain as you struggle to free yourself.

Soon you’re standing on the podium, one hand clutching your bleeding crotch and the other holding the giant $500,000 check. You’ve won, but you’re embarrassed and headed to the emergency room.