"Where’d you learn to surf, in a bathtub?"

I met Boris a year ago at a conference in Auckland.  It was a 2-day meeting of the World Health Organization Western Pacific Regional Office (WPRO) and the Secretariat for the Pacific Community (SPC) to discuss the Pacific Public Health Surveillance Network (PPHSN) implementation of communicable disease syndromic surveillance program.  My fabulous supervisor Jude suggested that I accompany her to the conference knowing my interest for infectious disease research in the Pacific region.  At the time, Boris was the infectious disease surveillance officer for the WPRO based in Pohnpei, FSM.  During a coffee break, I talked with Boris and expressed my interest in a Pacific project for my Master’s.  “Well we’ve got lots of work to be done in FSM.”

This explains why I’m in Pohnpei.  It’s only by coincidence that this teeny little Pacific island happens to harbor one of the most remote and sought after perfect right hand reef breaks in the world.  The Palikir Pass or P-Pass break was first featured on the cover of Surfer Magazine in 2000 {see link} .  In 2004, Allois Malfitani, a Brazilian living in Hawaii, moved to Pohnpei to capitalize on the break.  He purchased a waterfront hotel and renamed it the Pohnpei Surf Club.  Due to costly airfares and a nonexistent tourism industry, access to P-Pass is exclusively reserved for wealthy wave hunters and professional surfers.

Fortunately, for me, we are just entering the non-surf season.  From May-September you won’t find 6-8 foot stand up barrels but rather calm 2-3 foot Suze size swell.  You can imagine my relief after watching these videos of Taj Burrow’s recent visit to the surf club in March.   Day 3 in Pohnpei is my first surf session.  It’s a 20 minute boat ride out to the pass and I have equal anxiety about proving my worth as I do for eating coral and raking myself across the reef.  [I like to call this “parking lot anxiety” which I coined as a kid when I was learning to snowboard.  We’d arrive to a ski area parking lot and I’d feel a sudden fear from the daunting height of the mountain, completely questioning my ability to do the sport.  After 15 snowboard seasons, I still wonder if I’ll get off the chairlift alright.] 

Because there aren’t any guests at the surf club, Allois and I were the only ones in the lineup.  Yup, a perfect head-high peeling right and no one out.  People pay big money for this kinda thing.  I take 3 waves, and they go!  They don’t close out, they don’t fizzle to mush and better yet, I don’t fall off.  It breaks like Maria’s in Puerto Rico, and the water is warm like a heated swimming pool.  I keep expecting heavy unforgiving Piha waves, but they are easy to catch and I am so appreciative to the Piha girls who helped me train all summer.  But like Allois said, these are small and it only gets bigger and heavier.  I’m psyched about my first session and then accidentally reel in this dog-fish tuna on the boat ride back in.

Saturday was a PSC boat tour out to Manta Road and a few other spots for swimming and snorkeling.  I met some of the Peace Corps and World Teach volunteers who are all great fun.  Found out why they call it Manta Road.  Sunday (Easter), there was no surf but Allois was heading to Ant Atoll to pick up some friends who had been camping for the weekend.  According to my Micronesian guide book, an atoll is formed when a volcanic island with a barrier reef recedes back into the ocean after a bazillion years and leaves only the circular reef ring behind.  There are no inhabitants on Ant other than the coconut trees and the coconut crabs, both of which we tasted.  Every few minutes I’d proclaim profound things like “I’m on a tropical island!”

Tuesday was my second surf attempt.  Still held a healthy amount of fear for the waves and reef.  Still blissfully surprised at how mellow the waves break.  Still in one piece.