The wave at of the end the road

overwhelming sense of relief. Firstly that we had made it along the Teahupoo road, a terrorising hour of sphincter snapping bends, cars, dogs and little old ladies on bikes with baguettes, and secondly that we had made the right call to come a week early. We had looked at weather patterns, wind, swell, rain, more swell and we had made the call to go. It could have gone horribly wrong and we could have had to spend the week by the pool drinking cocktails and eating Poisson Cru, but no, our luck had held. Here we were, bobbing in a small tin boat, with what seemed like hundreds of other small tin boats, watching one of the world’s most notorious waves been ridden by the pre-eminent surfers in the world.

As we nudged our way forward, Kelly Slater paddled past, the sun glinting off his kingly dome. I pointed him out to our driver as it would not have gone down so well with Quicksilver if we had run over the eleven times world champ, but no doubt would have got a roar of support from the other competitors. At 43, Kelly brings a smile to all older surfers. Despite the sport being dominated by the brat pack; fuzzy faced little kids in skinny jeans making millions and anyone over the age of 40 who is internally derided, abused and ego slapped each time they walk to their local beach with board in hand and gut sucked in, where the ever-decreasing yet ever triumphant Mr Slater. Although we can’t compare to his skill and ability, he is without a doubt on our team (the older guys) and remains the bench mark, and embodiment of the phrase “age still has it.”