Chayne, maxing out the fun meter.

Troy and his pet gecko.

Pon, relaxing on the deck of our fale.

I don't think Troy sunk a single ball
while we were in Samoa!

Pon, on the other hand, could
hold his own at the table.

Big fat raindrops pelted my back incessantly as I helped the taxi driver load my unwieldy surfboard bag into the minivan. It was December 28, 2001, and I had just arrived in Apia, Western Samoa. An older English couple now living in Australia joined me in the van. They too, were headed to the Sa'Moana Surf Resort. They introduced themselves as John and Susan, and I soon discovered that John was one of the four principal investors in the resort and that he and his wife spend several weeks each year at the resort. We talked for a while and the conversation eventually turned to the foul weather.

Our driver informed us that a powerful tropical cyclone was spinning just off the coast of Samoa - the meteorologists called him "Waka". Over the past several days Waka had blown high winds and sent much rain. As we talked the driver was forced to swerve around gaping potholes in the road, freshly inflicted by the rain, as well as several trees that had been pushed down into the road against their will by the harsh winds. Luckily, Waka had veered suddenly to the south before the center of the storm was upon the island, and the worst weather had already passed with no major damage sustained by the island of Samoa. Downed trees and regular power outages were only a minor inconvenience compared to the devastation wraught by the last cyclone that flattened Samoa in 1991, I was told. Unfortunately, as we later discovered, Waka was indeed land-hungry. He veered south, away from Samoa, and headed straight for Tonga where he did flex his muscles and caused some major damage. But we surfers at Sa'Moana were happy to see a healthy cyclone pass by our shores. High winds whip up high seas that eventually reach the shore as overhead waves. All we had to do was wait and see what the storm served up.

The following day was a day of rest and relaxation. After more than 24 hours of sitting in airports and airplanes I was exhausted and actually somewhat glad that the high seas caused by the cyclone had not yet reached our shores. The weather was intermittantly squally and the surf, small and junky. I spent the day relaxing - mostly sleeping, reading and meeting new friends, the fellow surfers at the resort. I shared my cabin, or fale as the Samoans call them, with four Australians who had arrived the day before. Rob, married with teenage children, was the oldest. He makes a living with a dual career as a graphic designer and kneeboard shaper. He also keeps up a popular kneeboarding web site to promote his boards and his riders, not to mention the killer surf photos - check out the Drift Kneeboards web site sometime. Two of the three younger blokes, Chayne and Troy, are brothers and are sponsored by Rob's company, Drift Kneeboards, and ride his boards exclusively. Pon, the third lad, is a stand-up surfer and a good friend of Chayne and Troy's.

The main fale where the meals were served was also furnished with a bar, pool table, ping-pong table, a couple of sofas, a TV/VCR, and a decent movie collection including surf videos, of course. As you can imagine, we quickly made ourselves at home and made use of the facilities. As the week wore on, it became clear that I was one of the top pool sharks (if I do say so myself). But Pon was the hands-down king of the ping-pong table. Very consistent, with a controlled and deadly slam, Pon was The Man. I was the next closest to him - the only one who had any true hope of challenging his reign. Alas, I could not break him even once. Pon, if you do end up coming to visit me in San Diego, I think my wife Morgan can give you a good run for your money!

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