"Them good ole boys was drinking whiskey and rye, singing this'll be the day that I die." Don McLean. American Pie.

We first meet our anti-hero crossing the bridge over the famous Teahupoo river, with the biggest, thickest and most death-defying surf session in human history in a temporary hiatus. His name is Nathan Fletcher, he is 37-years old and within hours he will ride inside the largest tube ever seen or attempted by homo sapiens. Nathan was a child surf star in the making and in a famous act of rebellion he cut his hair in protest at being marketed as a kind of cute clothes horse for the surfing industrial complex. He was 14-years of age.

He is sloping towards me, head down in the gloomy morning light, thick with sea mist and rent by explosions on the outer reef which make the testicles of grown men shake and shrink in fear. There is a rhythmic sound emanating from him: clink, clink, clink.

Cowboy boots? Surely too weird even for this iconoclast. It's the leash slapping on the metal weights stationed on his tow board to keep it from skipping out at high speed.

Clink, clink, clink.

Our eyes meet. "How's it out there?" he asks.

"It's eating humans up and spitting them out like a meat grinder. Kalani Chapman almost died. Raimana got fucked over, he's called it off. Said someone is gunna die," I replied.

With the tiniest shrug of his shoulders he answered from the corner of his mouth (there was a cigarette dangling from the other corner), "Cool".

Cool? No, it isn't Nathan. It's not cool, it's as freaking terrifying as an earthquake, a volcanic eruption about to engulf you in red hot lava flow, a tsunami, a forest fire encircling you about to burn you to a charred crisp.

A forceful impression impinged on my consciousness as I absorbed the bizarre statement from Nathan. An echo of another person. It was someone from another age; some other resolute individual who had walked his own path.

In a flash it came to me. Nathan reminded me of Ian Curtis. That same hollow-eyed intensity; mumbled language and dark visage which hinted at tragic endings.

Another thought intruded, a lyric from the song Shadowplay: "From the centre of the city where all roads meet waiting for you. From the depths of the ocean where all hopes sank searching for you."

I didn't know it then but I found out later. It was Nathan's friend Sion Milosky he was looking for. Sion who guided Nathan through the valley of the shadow of death and back out again safely.

Minutes before, on the point I'd seen Kalani Chapman staggering, slurring incoherently to no-one in particular, "Fuck that was heavy". His body was ripped by red claw marks, bleeding like he'd been attacked by an apex predator on the savannah. Kalani is genetically designed to absorb maximum punishment and impact, as wide as he is tall and layered with thick ropes of muscle. His whole musculature was heaving and convulsing in sobbing spasms and his eyes rolled in his head like a demented drunken goldfish.

"What happened?" I asked him.

"Thought I was dead. Towed in too deep.... tried to straighten out and saw the whole ocean imploding in on me and stepped off. Thing hit me so hard I could feel my brain bouncing off my skull. Blacked out. When I came to, the next wave was there. Exploded me. Fucken heavy."

I saw the wave on video later that day. The thing went below sea level and then below that level again. Kalani tried to straighten and the whole ocean threw over his head, sucking him backwards into the maw with incredible velocity as he jumped off. There is no doubt he would be one of the very few human beings on this planet capable of surviving that impact.

The normally enticing hues of blue had been replaced by an ocean which was a sickly bacterial green. It bought forth images of nuclear detonation and post-apocalyptic fall-out, and like the unrestrained splitting of the atom is anathema to human life it seemed like immediate death for any human being venturing into the vortex of the energy. The once placid waters of the lagoon were rent by roiling currents and debris which had been washed off the land by the force of the incoming swells.

Back at the marina there was chaos and confusion. Photographers were stunned that Billabong were actively trying to discourage boats from going out to sea, a result of the French Navy declaring a double code red. In the confusion rumour and hearsay thrived. There were reports of arrests and fines by the navy for heading out to sea. Money was changing hands as deals were done and a trickle of boats slunk out of the harbour, loaded with the most connected photographers. Grambeau, Bielmann, Frieden were amongst the first to break the naval blockade.

We recounted a hiatus in the action at the start of our narrative sports fans. That break came at the behest of the unofficial Mayor of Teahupoo, Raimana Von Bastolaer. Raimana was beaten black and blue by a violent wipe-out that put his whole body into shock. After receiving treatment by volunteer paramedics at the marina Raimana boarded a ski and and returning to the line-up waved the session to a halt. "Mutant" was how Kalani had described it in a Hawaiian pidgin drawl. For around a half-hour the sight of skis careening like chariots in the coliseum, disgorging their warriors into single combat ceased.

But Laurie Towner and Dylan Longbottom hadn't heard the call. They had spent the opening exchanges embroiled in their own drama. Lawyers were on the prowl for Billabong, sensing the potential for massive lawsuits if injury or death occurred on their watch. Dylan had to dodge the force of American litigation to secure a ski. One that didn't have any Bong branding on it. They hit the water finally around 10am, with hoots and hollers like a couple of Wild West bank robbers who'd just got away with a stash.

Laurie and Dylan, what a team! If Johnny Steinbeck were alive he'd write a novel about them. In fact he almost did. Of Mice and Men contains the unforgettable characters Lennie and George. God strike me down if Laurie the big, strong, raw-boned country kid doesn't call forth the spirit of Lennie and the sharp and unflappable Dylan doesn't evoke George. I'd seen a lot of Dylan in the days leading up to this. Poring over the maps, nailing the timing of the swell peak and just generally lollygagging around. On the big paddle day he and Laurie had hung in a tinny in the channel for the day, while ten foot bombs detonated metres away. I looked over several times. Laurie was sleeping as peacefully as a baby.

Laurie and Dyl reached the line-up unaware the tow session had been closed due to overwhelming danger to life and limb. They saw an empty lineup and thought, 'Yew, we're on it,' as if it were a glassy three foot beachie they had stumbled across on a warm summers morning.

Dyl's whole session was impeccable. Perfect. He didn't fall once. If it wasn't for Nathan's monster the day belonged to him. His first wave was outrageous; a monstrous tube that turned in on itself engulfing Dylan in the kind of mutant dark cave that had so far caused distress and injury to any who had attempted it. Dylan backdoored one of the thickest caves ever seen and made a hard turn in a tube that was drawing in so much water from below sea level it looked unrideable. It was one of the deepest completed tube-rides of the day.

And Laurie was catching wave after wave. Stoked off his gourd and completely oblivious to danger and the gravity of the occasion. After a hideous wipeout that made the photogs wince and rapidly check their shots in case they had just photographed a man breathing his last breath he came back to the boats and drawing a slow line past, simply said, "That was dumb."

Yes, Laurie, you could say that.

How unflappable was Laurie? When he came back to where he was staying not only had a large fridge been washed off the back porch into the lagoon but Lauries thongs had also been sacrificed into the swirling waters. Laurie launched a ski and went looking for them. Eventually he saw his thong being sucked up the face of a monster wave and going over the falls. Laurie charged into the maelstrom to rescue a thong. A single fucking thong.

Got it back too. True story.

Midday and the swell was still building. Under overcast skies a wan sun was vainly trying to break through a mantle of low cloud still scudding in from the east. The atmosphere was thick with portent. The huge ragged swells incoming from the Pacific seemed to my morbid imagination to resemble the thundering hooves of Mongol barbarians invading in a mass army across the vast expanse of the steppes, intent on conquest and murder. Wheeling seabirds called forth carrion eating vultures circling the battlefield waiting to feast on the flesh of the slain.

The threat of French Naval action had been shown to be nothing but an idle threat and the skippers of Teahupoo were now ferrying tourists back and forth to the line-up. The narrow channel which offered a small window of relative safety between the end section of Teahupoo and a right-hander which exploded on near dry reef was now filled with boats of all shapes and sizes, people on surfboards, boogie boards, children and small animals. The potential for mass disaster was ever-present.

A set approached after a long lull in which the ocean seemed to be resting, gathering it's forces for a final irresistible assault in which it would shake loose and crush these human fleas who insisted on riding upon it. A tiny figure let go of the rope and started to drop as the ocean drained off the reef and a wall of water started to build behind him as black, solid and inviolable as a mountain of rock.

The figure crouched and turned hard for the shore as the water uplifted with the violence that only Teahupoo can muster. Lips and mutations formed in the face like mountain crags; there was screaming in horror and fascination and stoke as the tiny figure was imprisoned by the black mountain which had now entombed the tiny figure. Bruce. It was Bruce.

First the huge blue shack in Fiji on the pink board and now this abomination of a wave which defied human logic. In the space of just over a month Bruce Irons had propelled himself back to the top of the pyramid, breathing the rarefied air that only a few righteous souls could cope with.

As if sensing that the ocean had now mustered all its forces and was preparing to deliver the ultimate challenge, Nathan Fletcher took hold of the rope and drew a long line around the flotilla in the channel. I fancy he had a cigarette dangling at a jaunty angle from his lips, but that is unconfirmed. A tourist vomited a bright green trail of puke into the channel. It seemed to happen almost immediately after Bruce's wave but a period of time must have elapsed. A period when the mind struggled to process the magnitude of the surf being ridden.

Then it was there. Rising out of the ocean like an ancient Greek sea monster. There were shrieks of terror as a ski accelerated across the top of the wave, almost becoming trapped as the wave grew and grew and the figure on a surfboard let go of the rope. Sometimes life narrows down to this: a snap decision made after a lifetimes preparation and the focus narrows as the cold hand of death rears up and survival becomes a matter of composure under the most dreadful circumstance.

Slater described the experience of watching his friends cheat death as, "A draining feeling being terrified for other people all day long." I asked him if he thought that was pushing the limits of what human beings could endure.

"Oh, for sure, and what you can endure mentally as well. Looking at these things and holding that rope and knowing you can keep hold of that rope and go out the back or let go and...it's life or death. Letting go of that rope one time can change your life and not many people will ever experience that in their life."

Nathan Fletcher's life was changing before our eyes as he seemed to descend into the very bowels of the Earth. It was like the ocean had opened up and he was falling into the very depths of hell. The cavern he was now in was immense, larger than any ridden before. Looking into it I could see bats, lizards, snakes slithering along it's slimy black walls and other creatures at home in the horror laden mire.

For a long time no one breathed as Nathan was drawn backwards towards what seemed to be a horrific end, then all of a sudden time seemed to shunt forwards in a great, shuddering leap and Nathan was accelerating inside a tube as big as a cathedral, the mountain of water was approaching the flotilla and as the reality of the situation loomed boats hit full throttle, people screamed and it seemed the wave was going to close out the channel and bring death to the entire fleet.

But no-one died. Nathan survived the largest tube ever attempted and the people in the channel were allowed to continue living.

Let's meet our anti-hero again, late in the day. He is reclining on a porch in front of the wave we know as Chopes. The mountains are behind him. He sits in silence, staring out to sea. "What'd ya see back there in that thing?" I asked him.

"Ah fuck," he shook his head and rubbed his face in his hands. "I don't know. Tunnel vision. Fuck. I came back up, that was what I was most surprised about. Coming to the surface was amazing."

"How does this experience rate in your life?"

"This has been the pinnacle of my life. I only caught two waves...I respect it and I appreciate the fact that I can even come here and be a part of it." He shook his head and put his face in his hands again. "I just feel like it's so treacherous...if you were to disrespect it...I don't know; it's pretty much doing the virtually impossible."

"Do you think people have seen so many images of Teahupoo that they have become desensitised to the danger?" I asked.

"Well yeah, and you see other people doing things and you get your courage up. Your ego and your common sense, they battle each other. If you do it because you love it it'll usually go with you. If you do it trying to out-do somebody it'll probably work against you."

"Does a day like today feel like destiny?"

"Well yeah. It's a hundred percent luck, but at the same time it's not luck. You know in your mind you've worked your whole life to be in that situation, to get the chance to do it."

"You mentioned ego. Do you think big wave riding is mostly ego?"

"You can get confused real easy and forget why. You see other people doing stuff and you think, 'Oh I should do that or whatever' but also when you see people eat shit you can't believe they can come to the surface afterwards. It's a matter of throwing out your morals and what you know is good for your physical health, putting your head down and going."

"When you woke up this morning did you have a presentiment that something was going to happen?"

"Oh yeah, I knew. I've been a nervous wreck ever since I booked my ticket to come. When you leave you know it's either going to be tragic or it's going to be like you've just climbed Everest. Not really tragic, because if you were to die doing what you loved it would be all you could ask for."

"Does the death of someone close to you doing what they love change that feeling, does it make you feel wobbly inside?"

"Definitely makes me feel wobbly but at the same time I know that with that person they would be mad and feel disrespected if you were to take it any way but good and try even harder. I owe it to these people, I owe it to him (Sion) to do my best, instead of get lamed out by it. It would be real easy to but I feel it would be a disrespect to our relationship."

"When you came in over that ledge and let go of the rope what sort of reaction did you have?"

"Your whole life comes into that one second. Everything good, bad, whatever. You know, whether you've been good or bad. Letting go of that rope is where I gain confidence. It's all the moments leading up to that that are the worst. When I let go I can finally relax. Your finally in the moment and you don't have to think anymore."

"Do you feel in your own life you're still ascending after a moment like that?"

"In different ways, sure. I'm sustaining. They say living the dream and all that. More like being a human. I'm baffled I can be a part of it."

The light was fading as I walked away. Humanity stepped over the precipice today. As an avalanche of information buries us in meaninglessness it will be forgotten way too soon.

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