"When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead' Remember what the doormouse said, Keep your head!"

Jefferson Airplane, White Rabbit.

Day 1 of the Billabong Pro Teahupoo wasn't quite epic but in the context of 2011 it was damn close. Only the lingering feeling that what we saw today would be a mere shadow of what is to come eminently robbed it of its stature. Minus Andy there was a weird feeling in the channel and a general feeling that Bruce should have been given a wildcard in honour of Andy.

That's what veteran surf photographer Brian Bielmann was saying in the channel boat. Slater said it later to commentary guy Sal Masekela, 'Bruce should be here'. Bruce Irons sitting in the channel drinking Hinanos when Teahupoo is ten feet makes about as much sense as the One World ratings. Which is to say, none at all.

Another thing that makes no sense was something a little unnamed birdy told me last night. This little canary told me that the Tahiti comp was actually on unstable ground and after four or five lean years Bong was questioning the long term viability of the contest. That would be bad for Professional Surfing, Tahiti and the families of Teahupoo. I can't name my source but I'll endeavour to see if I can get an official comment from one of the corpos. My gut feeling is there would be riots in the streets if Bong announced the axing of Teahupoo.

Ace looked as sharp as a tack in picture perfect tubes. But Cory stalked him and after threading some technical tubes he made Ace sweat. I figured Ace would comeback but Cory cracked him and Ace fell to bits. It was devastating and Ace paddled past head down.

Bielmann seemed unconcerned. He loves his classic rock and dropped a Top 5 Stones album list as Taj, Wilko and Freddy P paddled out. There seems something missing from Taj's campaign this year. There's no intensity in his aura. He looked competent without any particular excitement in his surfing.

"What was that Top 5 again, Brian?"

"All the ones with Mick Taylor, Beggars Banquet, Let it Bleed, Sticky Fingers, and the masterpiece, Exile on Main Street", he drawled.

"Thats only four, Brian."

"Oh...hahaha...umm, take your pick, ahh, Some Girls?"

"Oh Fuck, Freddie"

Bielmann got his lens up and the old motordrive whirring just in time for Freddie to prove that bald guys can still smoke fools. And while Wilko looked good, Freddie smoked 'em. Beware the scorned bald guy.

I started thinking about Gabe Kling while Trav Logie was doing a number on Jadson and Flores. Kling! Has any Pro Surfer suffered as much abject humiliation at the hands of vicious internet trolls? Could Kling turn the tables on his oppressors and claim the most unlikely victory? It's true I had a strange dream about the Kling-On last night.

I was holed up in some cheap and tawdry trailer trash park in the American south, drinking whiskey and sweating, watching cockroaches swarm over a pile of dirty dishes. My task, as I understood it was to babysit Kling's dog while he went crawfishing. It was some kind of mongrel breed – half sausage dog, half rottweiler. Time passed, I tried to stumble to the fridge to get a beer when there was a bang at the door.

"Open up, police!"

I tried to speak but couldn't. My mouth was stuck together with whiskey and dry pretzels. The cops kicked the door in and Kling's dog rushed to attack the intruders. He downed the first cop and started to savage him. The second cop pulled a gun and I tried to scream, "No, no...it's only Gabe's dog, it won't hurt anyone!"

The cop aimed up and I woke in a cold sweat to the sound of a dog barking in the steamy Tahitian night. The clock read 1.30am. I took the dream as portent and slept fitfully until dawn. Kling aimed up and rode the foam ball like a man, no matter what they say about him. If any other journalist gives him coverage this event I'll buy the man a dozen Hinano's. You represented well, Gabe Kling.

Then something happened - the intensity lifted several notches. Slater was up. He was sitting close to Hearii in the channel who was wearing a large straw hat like Brando from the Island of Dr Moreau. The vibe was palpable. I'd met Hearii and his gracious mother earlier at the mariner. Hearii seemed subdued, his handshake firm with a broad, strong hand.

Amazingly, Slater fell on his first three waves. "Getting greedy," as he later put it. Hearii got barrelled and came out but the judges seemed to be lowballing him, at least from my channel angle. Dan Ross took control of the heat with a foamball ride that was legit, but the door always seemed open for Slater especially when Hearii was again lowballed on what seemed the best wave of the heat.

Slater kept moving, dodging, feinting before finally stabbing a couple of clean west bowls through the heart to claim victory. Hearii looked crestfallen as he paddled back to his gloriously unsponsored hat.

Such is life.

Things started to look weird as the wind got funky and started to swirl. A postponement looked likely as Otts claimed victory in a patchy heat with Owen and Heitor. But it cleaned up again as CJ, Parko and Melling hit the water.

We noted in yesterdays instalment the random acts of kindness towards total strangers of Teahupoo master Clifton Hobgood and the good karma he deserved to reap. Today saw a stunning harvest of deep, technical and stylishly committed tube-riding from CJ. He demonstrated the goofy advantage brilliantly with the demonstration of the deep pump and drive which can allow a tube to be ridden just above the shockwave and foamball. No-one takes off later and deeper than CJ.

While Joel looked super smooth and accomplished and can't be discounted CJ was in another league. With Cloudbreak coming on for next year we could yet see a late career renaissance for the Hobgoods.

Sal Masekela made the important and symbolic observation that CJ was able to relax the gluteus maximus in the heaviest situations, which allowed him to slow down and rely on his instincts instead of choking.

That's poppycock. There's nothing instinctual about surfing Chopes. On the contrary, like the caveman had to learn when faced with sabretooth tiger, the instincts of fear and survival had to be mastered so that composure and correct decisions could be made. Same now as it ever was. Surfing Teahupoo is a supreme example of a humans' ability to achieve dominion over his base emotions. It separates us from the animals.

One person who seemed to have found complete mastery over his instincts was Josh Kerr. He surfed most of the heat like his free surfs, which is to say - dominant. Time and again he slotted himself and came out on some juicy nuggets. I asked him yesterday about his boards. They are Rusty Preisendorfer shapes. Wide point forwards with narrow, foiled pintails. And they are short - 5'10" and 6'0". In the flesh and in concept they're very similar to the Deep Six pintail which Slater rode to victory at Pipe in 2008, before the Wizard Sleeve debacle.

It seemed Kerrzy had a lock on the heat, in much the same way CJ had dominated his. But Julian Wilson wasn't going to go quietly and he manned up on a sketchy late drop to no-hands tube. That made a statement but seemed to be pissing in the wind of Kerr's gale force domination.

What happened next both staked Wilsons claim as a legitimate future world title contender and showed that Professional Surfing can deliver some truly sublime sporting moments. Wilson went late on a throaty deep west bowl, one of the ones that just sneak inside a bit and ferociously explode. From up close these things are terrifying, even at that size. Plenty of them go through unridden. Wilson went late and deep, semi-freefalling into a frothy cave with an explosion of whitewater revealing that it was detonating on the shallowest section on the reef. Again he rode no hands then negotiated a tricky high foamy section while deep in the tube. He emerged to soft sunshine and victory.

It shoulda been a ten but one gets the feeling judges will need to keep some headroom for the coming days.

No, it wasn't epic today but it was pretty freaking close.

(To see photos from Day 1 click here)