"Was it white like heaven or black like space?" - The Gowns, White Like Heaven.

"If there is a God I hope he's looking after me." That's what went through Trav 'The Log' Logie's mind as he found nothing but empty space between himself, a thick Teahupoo lip and shallow reef.

But he didn't look after him, at least not on that wave, because Trav got drilled so hard he suffered a separated shoulder. But then maybe he did, in the long run, after a controversial fiasco ensued when Jordy got obliterated on a bomb and wore a solid set on the head.

Jordy came back on the ski grimacing in pain and it was obvious he was seriously injured. In the ensuing chaos water patrol called the tower and called an ambulance, Jordy's eyes were rolling around in his head, a lung injury was suspected. There was no ambulance ready so the Contest Director put the comp on hold. There were cat-calls from the crowd: Trav was charging and the vibe was one of disbelief. Jordy started talking, "Let me surf. Let's keep going."

After the re-start the heat went to Jordy but the crowd smelled a rat and Martin Potter stormed the judging tower and a re-surf was agreed to. There was more punishing wipeouts for The Log but in the end he prevailed in a re-surf with Jordy.

Everyone who excelled today had to endure punishment. The ability to absorb that punishment and come back for more, with all your composure, skills and desire intact made the difference between the winners and losers. The set waves obliterated the best in the world and Owen Wright was one of the few who was able to muster the courage as well as the technique to get his board underfoot on the heaviest waves of the day. Yesterday, on the Day of Days, when a few select men and women stared down the black hole of Armageddon, Owen sat at the end of the channel, dodging detonations of the heaviest water ever negotiated by Homo Sapiens.

Yesterday had differing effects on the competitors; some pretended it wasn't happening, spending time in the media centre watching sports and checking their Facebook pages, others watched in a kind of horrified fascination, the normal human response in other words. Yet Owen seemed to be doing something completely different - he was learning: understanding the complex forces at work and allowing his brain to slowly decode them.

More importantly, he was psychologically desensitising himself to the spectre of immolation present in every death set, allowing himself to slowly become relaxed and able to function under the heaviest axes. From the channel the amount of water drawing into these waves makes their sheer volume something truly awesome.

Flores was the other competitor to use the tunnel vision and subsequent punishment of Round 2 to reset the level of fear he could cope with and still function. Flores was remarkable today. The early afternoon saw a sudden roar to life from a South Pacific swell pulse that had been seeming to slowly ebb away after some leftover monster sets in the morning. Flores, like he has done all event, calmly positioned himself for the bombs and utilising the advantage that backhanders have taking off under the lip by grabbing rail on take-off, slotted two absolute beasts.

Has there ever been a greater Public Relations turnaround in professional sport? From despised petulant Frenchman engaging in public violence and considered a joke by surf fans to a humble master of the thickest caverns the ocean can produce. This is a reversal in fortune for the ages, sports fans.

There were clutch moments aplenty as unlikely candidates stepped up and beat acknowledged Teahupoo specialists. Brett Simpson defeated Parko with a tepid performance that showed a lot of hesitation. In the first five minutes of his Round 3 matchup with Damien Hobgood, Simpo turned his back on a monster and it seemed he would pose no further threat. But something weird happened: Damien threaded a smaller inside wave and with the line-up wide open a set reared on the back ledge. Damien was screaming at him to go and finding himself in the perfect position and with his good friend urging him on Teahupoo gifted him the easiest entry on a set for the day. Simpo slotted it clean and you could see the switch flick in his soul as he suddenly realised, "Hey, I can do this!"

Last night, as a pale yellow sunset infused the Tahitian lagoon with a light that seemed holy in its purity I shared a Hinano with Brett. He'd blocked the day and seemed completely at peace with his fate. If he went out early via the hand of his good friend Damien Hobgood then that was alright with him. But he didn't. He found himself on some kind of wonderful karmic roll where he was actually learning to surf Teahupoo in heats and wave after perfect wave kept coming to him. I mean, would anyone of sound mind bet on Simpo to beat Damien Hobgood then Freddy P. in 6-10 foot barrelling Teahupoo?

Maybe more than anybody in the line-up today, Simpo was able to forget the waves of a lifetime yesterday and take today completely on its merits, as a new entity unrelated to the past. Slater called it "spiritual", the sense that the "ocean speaks to you". It spoke to Brett Simpson today, it whispered sweet poetry in his ear all day long.

We return to Slater's performance this morning in Round 3. The sun came out from behind the mountains and the sound of church bells drifted across the lagoon. Somehow, and almost unbelievably, there were the faintest question marks being raised about the champs prospects in solid Teahupoo barrels against a young, hungry tube specialist. He hadn't done it for years in solid surf...could he still do it? Would he be out-surfed by Ricardo Santos, a wildcard with nothing to lose?

Slater's opening ride was superb, a late drop to hands-free tube that had more than a touch of Andy about it. He threw down a double shaka claim and it was immediately obvious he would pay no attention to the young Brazilian. He was listening, and Teahupoo was speaking to him as it has spoken to no other.

He didn't surf a perfect heat. But it was hard to escape the conclusion that the wave he took off too deep on was a deliberate manoeuvre. Much like Ali trained for his fight against Foreman in Zaire, the famous Rumble in the Jungle by training with noted hard puncher Joe Frazier, allowing him to pound away on his body to condition it to punishment, so too Slater wanted to absorb some punishment, as a psychological hedge against the fear of a much more critical wipeout. As a strategy it was flawless.

Like any great champion operating at the peak of his powers Slater felt the need to indulge in a little showboating. His next pit, one of the most perfect waves of the morning, he rode no-hands, looking back into the tube and putting both palms up in supplication. This wave, this island nation has showered the Slater campaign in mana again and again.

And like last year, his opponents in front of him have fallen, allowing him once again a clear path to what has seemed like destiny from the start. The Slater Era will last while Teahupoo retains it's central significance to the Pro Surfing narrative.

As a sporting event GT nailed it perfectly: "Life doesn't get much better than this."

PS: Just on sunset a reliable source informed me the Jordy Smith camp were furious about the re-surf debacle. Like Joel's Round 2 wave, this episode could be vital when we tally up the crucial events that shaped this years Title Run. It would be ironic in the extreme if Jordy's closest friend and travel partner, who has been struggling on the Qualifying Series, was to be the one who torpedoed his Title Run."

Check all the photos from the third day of competition.