A burst of tropical rain woke me this morning, jamming against the roof my little A-Frame house like the sound of a thousand typewriters. Almost loud enough to drown out the roosters’ daily dawn symphony. Almost.

From bed I can look out the window across the lagoon to the main break at Teahupo’o. It’s an idyllic oceanic panorama that includes a few dingys that are tied up bobbing against one another close to shore, the judging tower out on the reef to the left and what feels like half the Pacific Ocean. The skies are still dark in every direction, suggesting we won’t see much sun today and the surface of the water is dimpled as it cops the rain, hard. From space I reckon the Pacific right now would look like a giant lead-coloured golf ball. At eye level with the swell pulsing gently through it, it has a texture that is more like velvet.

You get bucket-loads of rain in Tahiti, more than four-times the average annual rainfall of a place like Australia, so it’s no surprise the joint is so lush and spilling over with dense foliage. The gardens here are spectacular. There’s dozens of species of flowers that appear to be in constant bloom and on a still night their perfumes permeate the humid air.

I’m not sure how much work the locals put in to keep the surrounds looking so spectacular, but when I threw a banana skin into the corner near the fence yesterday, about an hour later I saw a lady (who I guess must be our gardener) stoop down to pick it up. I waved and she waved back, but I felt bad. There must be a compost somewhere, hidden beyond the mountains in the middle of the island maybe, that no one is telling me about...

The day after the Air Tahiti Nui VonZipper Trials wrapped, Mick Campbell and I were fortunate enough to enjoy a surf together at Teahupo’o with no one else out. Campbo’s currently ranked 40th and needs a huge result at Teahupo’o to secure his place inside the top 32. But he’s a bloke who is calm under pressure and has finished third here previously so there’s still hope for him that things might pan out alright. We traded tubes for an hour or so and during the lulls we watched the fish swimming beneath our feet and more than once looked at each and said, “How good is this!” knowing all too well every plane that landed at Papeete from that point on, would bring with it more, wave-hungry, pro surfers. Eventually, we paddled back in feeling pleasantly fatigued and as I bid Mick “adieu’” I made a point of looking up to the mountains, the fresh water flowing to the sea and all the colours in between.

The pace of life in Tahiti either side of the world’s biggest surf event is certainly seductive and for a moment I allowed it to overwhelm me. I also wondered if I lived here, if I would ever get sick of it.

Out there now in the pelting rain somewhere beyond the dingys and tower on the other side of the lagoon is a bunch of pros who have stepped off those planes. Damien Hobgood, Tanner Gadauskas, Adam Melling, Drew Courtney, Nate Yeomans, Adriano De Souza and so on...
The surf is chopped up, cross-shore and when the squalls really fire up, the rain feels like needles when it hits your eyes.

There’s an occasional four-foot wave, but all together it’s nothing on the surf Campbo and I had 48 hours ago. It would be a real shame to watch such talent, some with their careers on the line, fighting for glory in such meagre conditions. Unfortunately, the forecast suggests there ain’t much better on the horizon. For the sake of everyone involved in such a big event, I’m just crossing my fingers, hoping it’s not a case of the storm before the calm.

JJ

For more info see the Billabong Pro Tahiti event page

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