Finally a surfing contest breaks out. It was a day of almost pristine beauty; the cloud veils were lifted from the mountain peaks for the first time revealing the almost shockingly sharpened peaks and razorbacked ridges.

Your correspondent arrived at the wharf to see Kekoa Bacalso scampering sheepishly onto a jetski. On the cut-off bubble and late for his heat: not a good look. Kekoa's total heat score was 1. Yes, you read it right.

Adriano turned the froth right up to 11 in his heat, slapping the water and paddling Roy Powers and Timmy Reyes up the reef so they all miss the wave of the morning, a solid nugget that turns inside out. In the boat, Reyes is ropeable, declaring that revenge is due on the pint-sized Brazilian.

I swam over to the caddies to watch the first of the Tahitians, Tamaroa McComb, take on Fanning and Melling. Positioning is key today; some waves hit more on the west bowl, some deeper in the line-up. Both Fanning and Melling get caught out of position. McComb is magnificent. The key style point of backside Tahitian tube-riding is to pull in hands free and McComb does this with aplomb. Tahitians are the best tuberiders in the world.

Trials winner Taumata Puhetini was in the channel cruising, his back emblazoned with tattoo. Shades on, the coolest cat imaginable. I wished him well, hoping for a Tahitian rout of the Top 44. The future of Professional Surfing belongs to the developing world and the island nations of the Indo-Pacific. There lies vitality, opportunity, hunger and stylish composure. The white man is losing his stomach for competition, preferring to treat surfing as an Art Project. I blame skinny jeans and STAB.

Manoa was up next. Sans water and food and exposed to the sun and rocking boat a sudden wave of drowsiness came over me. Jordy caught a wave and pulled a backside superman.....almost too surreal. First wave bru. Correct me if I'm wrong but it was the first time a massive air has been pulled at Teahupoo in a contest. Manoa answered back with a deeply threaded tuberide but Jordy went again slotting a west bowl wave.

Then, after a massive lull, a bizarre paddle battle developed between Manoa, on the inside, CJ, and Jordy who caught the wave. Surely, not even the alpha-African could pull this shit against Manoa, who has a royal bearing at Teahupoo. But it was CJ who got the interference...what? And Jordy went through.

All the while the Old Bald Guy was watching from his boat. He had two boards: both round pins with five plug set-ups. One set as a thruster and the other a McKee style quad. He rode the thruster. Slater watched the last of the Taj, Tiago and Tuamata heat sitting there with Andy Irons chatting like a couple of old maids. But it was Heairii Williams that your correspondent was keen to witness in action. He has a rep as a wildman, a warrior.

At first sight he didn't disappoint. A series of mohawks were shaved into his head, he came into view paddling furiously, thrashing the water then standing erect on his board as he approached Slater and Irons and let loose a full fledged war cry. "Yeeeeaaaaaaaiiii!"

Pro Surfing only makes sense as battle; as gladiators and generals intent on victory, who abhor defeat as diminution of their soul.

Hearii's war cry had a marked and contradictory effect on the combatants. The scent of battle seemed to ennervate Slater, he took off impossibly late and deep, as only he can, on his first wave, threading a technical tube and bringing the crowd into a state of intoxication. Irons, by marked contrast seemed confused, in a half-awake state of lucid dreaming. Hearii was too emotional, too angry and scrapped into several shitty ones. He was sitting out the back, slapping the water. Slap, slap, slap like a big angry shark.

Slater was sitting with Hearii, watching him slap the water, when Andy caught a smaller, wider one and blew the back out of it with two massive fin waft power re-entries. It seemed to come from nowhere, like a sleeping pitbull who had suddenly been awakened and went straight on the attack.

Hearii answered back on the wave of the heat, a long deep tube. He claimed it unashamedly, with a full throated fist pump. But Slater would not be unbowed and picked off a semi-bomb himself. Extending his lead.

The sets all of a sudden seemed to be coming more frequently. And with Heairii and Slater too far up the reef it was Andy; the Andy of Old, the Andy who had consigned the Slater Era to the dustbin of history only to see it rise again phoenix-like to destroy him who was dropping in deep and late into a Chopes drainer...spat out in victory stance.

The score was announced. He had come up short by 0.3 of a Point. Now it was Andy's turn to blow up, smacking the water and sending curses and imprecations heavenwards. Slater wins. Every heat now is one step closer to destiny. In the grand historical scheme this gladiatorial battle which Slater emerged victorious from, even if only Round One, may yet prove to be decisive.

Your correspondent, weak from lack of food and water, came back to dry land to write this report.

Late Breaking News

In golden afternoon light Tahitian surfers scalped some big names. Manoa proving his mastery. Heiarii slapping the water again, this time in victory. The Outsider maintains hopes for a Tahitian victory.

After Heiarii's win Dane Reynolds' amazing performance, for the first time for this viewer, was anti-climactic. Unbelievably, and accompanied by an amazing show of support, the unheralded Marco Polo defeated Bobby Martinez.

Mon dieu!

The last heat finished, a marathon day of Pro Surfing over. Your corresondent: beaten into submission but unbowed. A sunset as sublime as Tahitian victory graced the calm waters of the lagoon.