I sat there, gripping the rail of my board and wondering, "How in the world did I get here?"

Six hours on a plane, 40 minutes on a bus through sugar cane fields, 30 minutes on a small boat to a 29-acre island in the middle of the South Pacific.

That part I was clear on.

I just wasn't sure how I wound up on a 7-foot-10 longboard in the lineup at Cloudbreak without booties or a helmet, getting attacked by sea lice and staring at a wall of water that was probably wondering why I was there, too.

Before I ever stepped barefoot on Tavarua, a heart-shaped island among the hundreds that make up Fiji, I had stayed away from potentially fatal experiences in the ocean, namely heavy surf that breaks over sharp reefs during low tide. I had always preferred the friendly, rolling waves of Waikiki and Maunalua Bay, surf that didn't require padded helmets or neoprene booties.

So when I was asked by my non-surfing girlfriend to go to Tavarua with her and a group of veteran surfers, I agreed — more for the adventure than the surf.

In fact, I almost didn't pack my board.

I had heard too many horror stories about the breaks around Tavarua, a private resort that's so popular among surfers, it's almost impossible to book a year ahead.

The hollow, left-hand Cloudbreak, easily the most famous surf spot in Fiji, is a frequent stop on the Association of Surfing Professionals World Tour. And Restaurants is well-known for its long, barreling wave that breaks over some of the sharpest, scariest coral in the world.

I heard about one guy who lost his footing while surfing at Restaurants and launched headfirst into the razor-sharp reef. His helmet, which nearly cracked in half, literally saved his life.

And, of course, there's the "Tower Tour" at Cloudbreak, where surfers get stuck on the inside, near a huge judging tower — caught in the current and pounded repeatedly by the relentless sets. It can often take half an hour of constant paddling to get back to the lineup.

None of this sounded fun to me.

"Just take your board," said one of the guys I surf with in Waikiki, waving his hand at me as if he were swatting some pesky insect. "You'll be fine."

I wasn't convinced, but I took my board anyway. Just in case.

But after hearing about the first afternoon session at Cloudbreak — barreling double-overhead sets with one guy taking a record four Tower Tours — I didn't think my board was going to touch the pristine waters surrounding the island.

So how did I end up in the lineup the very next morning?

I'm always spouting off clichés to my students about leaving their comfort zones, thinking outside the box, taking risks, challenging their expectations. And here I was, content to lounge on the beach with a book and a bottle of sunscreen because I was intimidated by something I hadn't even experienced yet.

That didn't make any sense.

Sure, there was danger involved. I might pitch headfirst during a take-off or get pounded by a freak set. But I had to trust my abilities, know my limits and, well, hope for the best.

So when I took off of my first wave at Cloudbreak — a relatively sociable head-high set — and jetted down the wall toward a group of cheering shortboarders, I knew I had done more than taken my own advice.

I had started to believe we can do more than what we limit ourselves to.

And not all of us need helmets.

Editor's note: Cat Toth does The Advertiser the honor of contributing the last About Women column in the lineup, after a proud seven-year run. Mike Gordon's column of last week does the same for About Men. Our kudos to the columnists who have contributed over the years: Lynda Arakawa, Andreas Arvman, Peter Boylan, Mike Gordon, Tanya Bricking Leach, Mike Leidemann, Dan Nakaso, Keiko Ohnuma, Ken Rickard, Treena Shapiro, Christine Strobel, Catherine Toth, Michael Tsai, Leila Wai and Christie Wilson.

Catherine E. Toth is a former Advertiser Staff writer who still refuses to wear a helmet — or booties — while surfing. Read her blog, The Daily Dish, at www.thecatdish.com.