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Wednesday 24 August 2011

Surfer Attacks Witnessed 11.09

Surfer Attacks Witnessed 11.09
And Hewitt to navigate throughout the day. Weather from the coast of New Jersey in September asked the blue sky, warm, and the right wind conditions near perfect surf.
A passion for 39 years, sports, Ed woke up early Sept. 11, 2001.
It would be surfing a place called Sandy Hook, a lonely spit of sand on the north edge of Gunnison Beach, like a finger pointing in the direction of Manhattan and Brooklyn, which rises from the water a few miles. When conditions are just right, you can surf a wave at Sandy Hook to hundreds of meters with Empire City skyline as a backdrop.
He was one of those days when he promised to take long walks and a clear sky, and Ed, a travel writer for taking a day off, was whipped. Commissioned a surfboard in his white van 9 feet out of his entry in Kingston, New Jersey, for the unity of one hour.

In Van put his phone down in the cup holder and cranked some tunes on the radio. Halfway into his car along State Road 36, his phone rang. Probably best not to control this traffic, he thought, and ignored the call as it flew toward the beach. The phone rang again, signaling to a voice message. Ed has been ignored. He was in the area and feel good: the radio was blasting, and he could feel the smell of coconut wax cool on the board. Within minutes, it would cruise on the face of a wave.
When he pulled into the parking lot nearly empty, he saw a cloud of black smoke rise from Manhattan. He called up to answer his phone. It was his wife, Lori. She seemed worried. Something happened in New York. There is a huge fire. The news, says a plane crashed into the World Trade Center. It might have been an accident. Nobody knows anything yet. Be safe.
He pulled out the card of the van, slipped into a pack and started walking along the beach to the place where he joined a crowd of people watching the smoke. Suddenly a black cloud turned white. I did not know, but the smoke was white ash and debris from the collapse of the South Tower.
"Everything that was in Manhattan changed color," he recalled later. "It was one thing seemed cool to have."
Like most people across the country at the time Ed was not aware of the magnitude of the disaster. Fires are tragic, of course, but they happen all the time. Aircraft accidents are rare, but life goes on.
Ed was uncomfortable, but decided to jump overboard.
Taking on board under his arm, went to the beach where the waves were crashing hard. He received the eve of the sand towards the water and plopped belly-first on the table, rowing furiously. He directed his office over and under the relentless waves, water, sharp with the fall coming, and he did it after the soup. Eventually, Ed sat on his board to catch your breath and realized he was alone. There was an embarrassed silence as he looked toward the smoke. But there was little time to concentrate on the next series of waves marching directly toward her.

Ed took the first wave, and far removed from the lip to the other. He kept his eyes on the cloud of smoke continued to fill the morning sky.
He sat alone, scattered throughout his administration, his nose bobbed in and out of the water, faces only. The cloud grew larger, more menacing.
A moment later he saw that both full of people came quickly in the direction of Manhattan. Hundreds of people fled the island. Many were bloodied and injured.
"I'm sitting in the water and seeing all this, and continues to be piled on me," he said.
In his mind he saw the faces of their friends living in Manhattan. He thought of his wife, and he began to feel ill and anxious. What am I doing here? He thought.
He rowed to the shore and catch the wave that has deposited in the sand. The crowd had gathered around the shore of a man on the radio. All were paralyzed by smoke coming from Manhattan.
Ed ran to his car, took off his clothes, threw the plate of the truck, and called his wife. Pulling on the main road, which tried to keep his mind focused. On both sides of his truck as a driver shocked and horrified, as has been accelerated ahead of him.
"I remember trying to make sure not to kill," he said later. "I was not, and I could say that people around me do not feel. I n" I have not had my head on my shoulders and I am very aware. "
The world had changed in the short time since he threw his surfboard in the truck this morning quiet. Radio stations were no longer plays well-being of the jam. Instead he listened to the news announcers tell the story as fast as they could gather information for their own voice shook on the activities of radio and television. World Trade Center fell. Pentagon in Washington, DC, was on fire. A plane crashed in Pennsylvania. Thousands could be dead. America was attacked.
All the while, Ed Hewitt sat alone in the ocean, to see unfold.

Back in Kingston, the van pulled into the driveway and ran inside the house, where his wife was waiting for him.
"I came home and was quickly put to work," he said.
His wife was a coach for a rowing team at Princeton University, and she and Ed have been associated with many paddlers in the region through Row2k.com that Ed did for rowing enthusiasts. That morning, they began to compile a list of survivors in the local rowing community. Ed got on the phone and it was blowing a lot of e-mail to the kayakers in the area and took the names that could be taken into account.
The e-mails and phone calls poured into the narrow escape stories of the buildings coming down. His closest friends who worked at the World Trade Center, was taken alive.
As the days passed, more paddlers adding their names to the list. But not everyone has the answer. Families have continued to seek and rescue workers stayed up all night, searching for people trapped in the rubble.
"It 'been a couple of weeks waiting for very strong people to survive," said Ed But he liked and has become a focal point for North East rowers were attacks.
Finally, Ed has helped organize the funeral of five rowers who never showed up.
Looking back, do not think that Ed was surfing before. He thinks people who have helped and spent late nights waiting to hear whether they are made of.
"We worked very hard to find people," he said. "This is the part that really sticks with me."
When conditions are met, Sandy Hook breaks again, with the rollers that are used to magnificent epic rides along the point. But you will not find Ed Hewitt slips over the water. Still loves to surf, but no. Anywhere.
"The pictures of him, I can not bear to see," he said. "There's no way I went to Gunnison Beach for surfing."
And it is now almost 50, and spent 10 years with his wife and the tragedy of their 4 year old son Connor. He also organizes memorial Row2k.com.
And one day, when Connor is old enough, Ed can take your child to where he sat alone at sea and saw the world change.

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