Pohnpei uno

Saturday

“I hope you’re a competent surfer mate. It’s heavy out there, breaking like Teauhupo.” The Aussie is thick and tanned in that red sort of way. His blonde mullet and goatee flash against his red skin.
“Two broken boards today and I ripped the fin out the bottom o’mine. You sure as hell don’t want to get caught inside.”
I gulp nervously, visions playing out in my head of the wave at Teauhopu. The take off is so steep, and the lip of the wave so thick, it boggles the mind. When it breaks it looks like the entire ocean is lifting up and dumping onto the reef. I like to surf, but I don’t have a death wish. The Aussie is talking about Palikir Pass, which is the best known and most frequently surfed spot on the island.
“How are the other waves around here?” John pipes in.
“They’re shit right now mate. This is the only wave that’s working this time of year. Wind’s too strong for the others.”
Great. We’ve just flown over four thousand miles to this remote island in the Pacific for a death wave that I might not even be able to surf.

The island of Pohnpei lies in the Pacific about 1800 miles southwest of Hawaii, southeast of Guam, and just north of the equator. It is one of the four main islands that comprise the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM) and the main town called Kolonia is the capital of the FSM. The island was the scene of heavy fighting between the Americans and the Japanese which was just another chapter in their colonial history. First the Spanish came to town, followed by the Germans, the Japanese, and now the Americans. The U.S serves as the primary financial sponsor of the FSM. The island itself is mountainous, covered in lush jungle, surrounded by mangrove and a barrier reef. It also happens to be one of the rainiest places on earth, averaging over 400 inches per year.
Flying in from Honolulu we hopped through the Marshall Islands, stopping at the atolls of Majuro and Kwajalein. Majuro is the capital of the Republic of the Marshall Islands and comprises nothing more than an atoll about 200 meters from one side to the other. Standing on the tarmac, seeing the Pacific on both sides of me, I felt as I could be swallowed up by the ocean at any moment. Kwajalein is another atoll, mostly filled up by a US military base. Judging on the installations I saw there, I can only guess that it is a listening post to pick up on satellite and telecommunications for this part of the world, another piece of America transplanted to the middle of nowhere, complete with golf courses, swimming pools and movie theatres. After touching down in Kosrae which is another FSM island we departed to Pohnpei. Pohnpei emerged out of the misty rain clouds like the island where King Kong lives. It is wet, warm, dark, and green. The pungent smell of decaying organic matter fills the air.

My traveling buddy is John, whom I met and traveled with in Chile. We achieved one of the ultimate surf fantasies together in the middle of the Atacama Desert; that is finding our own perfect wave in the middle of nowhere and surfing it all to ourselves. We’re both hoping the good wave karma holds.
Through perfect travelers luck and help from the friendly locals, we end up at a place called Nihco Marine Park, which serves as the local swimming hole, barbeque area, and general hang out spot for the locals on the weekends. They have a house and a small cottage that they rent out. The house happened to be rented by Steve, Damien, and Jaime, crude, funny at times, hard drinking, (yes I know it’s an oxymoron) Aussies. Steve has been posted up here about six months and is the one responsible for the mullet and the Teauhupo comments. Damien and Jamie are two of his buddies from Queensland. Since they were in the house, John and I take the far less epic, thatched roof cottage, which is attached to the store and the pool room at Nihco. It gets a bit noisy on the weekends from the parties going on. We’re not complaining though as we rented the place for the month for $300. We can’t help but gloat a little bit at the guys who we met on the plane and are staying at the surf camp for $150 a day.
That’s the good news. The bad news, when we check with the shipping company is that John’s inflatable boat and motor that he shipped over won’t be arriving until next Thursday and today is Saturday. This is a major bummer as Palikir Reef Pass lies about a mile offshore. That means we have to find another way to get out to the surf until our boat arrives.

Sunday

The Aussies have borrowed a boat from the owner of Nihco Park and after some brief negotiations they agree to take us out to the reef the next day, as long as we pay our share of gas. I’m nervous as hell, not knowing what to expect from the wave. I haven’t been surfing all that much lately and imagining a razor sharp reef a couple of feet below me does nothing to instill confidence. Still, at this point there is no backing out. Steve tells me he’ll come by the cottage before sunrise to get out to the pass before the guys from the surf camp so at least we have an hour or so without a crowd.
I fall into a restless anticipatory sleep, buffeted by the ceiling fan, the sweat drips from my forehead. I wake up at 5:40, make my way downstairs, and drag my board and supplies for the day to where the boat is parked. Wordlessly, we pile our stuff in the boat and Steve starts up the outboard as we pull out of the mangrove. Soon we are navigating our way through the lagoon, dodging reef and looking for sea lane markers. Damien has a big handheld spotlight that he uses to illuminate the bottom, in case it gets shallow, or to see up ahead for the poles acting as markers sunk into the reef.
The ocean flickers with wind as approach the reef pass. I catch myself thinking that maybe we won’t actually surf today because of the wind. I’m almost relieved. The waves look pretty small, and they are misshapen from a side shore wind. Apparently the prevailing northeast wind blows hard during this time of year. We wait and watch for a good fifteen minutes. Damien can’t handle it anymore.
“I’m out theyaa,” he says with his thick accent. He strips off his shirt, grabs his surfboard, and hops overboard. Within a few minutes I’m in the water, staring down at the reef through the clear water. A small set wave comes my may and I turn and paddle hard. The wave jacks quickly as it hits the reef and I hop to my feet. Although small, the wave lifts me up and shoots down the line, the reef seemingly a few feet underneath my feet. I kick out and I’m stoked as I paddle back towards the peak.
“How was your first wave out here mate?” Jamie asks as I approach.
“Well I got to my feet, got down the line and it was kind of sweet.”
“Now you gotta get a barrel,” Damien says half turning towards me.

Monday

We’re out at P-Pass again with the Aussies. The waves are a bit bigger today, over head high on the sets, thumping hard on the inside shallows. We stay out for hours and I get a bunch of waves. Still, I feel a bit awkward on my board. I fall on some easy cutbacks. This is what happens when I just don’t surf very much at home. I have to get acclimated again. After four hours of surfing I go back to the boat for bananas and coconut. I love coconuts! There is nothing better after exertion than to drink down sweet cool coconut milk. It is the best ever!
John is surfing with his usual solid and smooth style. The only complaint I hear out of him is that he hasn’t surfed a right in about a year. Poor thing! That’s what happens when your surf travel resume includes three months in Chile followed by sailing from Ecuador to Tahiti and surfing perfect barreling left reef passes in the Society Islands.
The Aussies of course absolutely rip.
I head out again for a few more waves and end up getting caught inside on the reef with a set bearing down on me. One of the main differences between surfing in a place like this and at home is that here there are serious consequences to little things like getting caught inside. At Ocean Beach if I get really worked and caught inside I might just get pushed back up onto the beach. Not here. I don’t know how shallow it is but with the white water from a broken wave bearing down on me I duck dive. As I pop up back through the foam I look and see two more walls of white water rolling towards me. I’m being pushed back farther up onto the reef. Shit! I have got to get out of here before I get seriously scratched up on the sharp coral. I duck dive again and here a clunk against by board as hit something. I don’t pay much attention to it as I’m in serious get the hell out of here mode. I paddle furiously towards the channel as the set subsides and with spaghetti arms slowly make my way back to the peak. I catch a few more waves then go in. I’m tired and the crowd has grown to about 15 people. The surf camp is responsible for the additional people in the water as their second boat shows up with a small crowd of Americans, Aussies and South Africans.
John is back in the boat. He got dragged across the reef and has some decent scratches on his back. The reef also tore a hole in the butt of his board shorts. I turn my board over as I put it into the bow of the boat and John notices a hole in the bottom.
“Looks like you did some damage, “he says.
“Shit! I must have done that when I was duck diving. That’s what that sound was.”

Tuesday

The Aussies are up all night drinking, and don’t even go surfing. As a result we’re pretty much stuck hanging out around Nihco Park. We meet Wilbur, the owner of Nihco and then his son, Jason, and his wife Maggie. Maggie as it turns out is the line female senator in the FSM. They have virtually an identical system of government as the U.S. Following WWII, the U.S. not only sponsored the FSM but also set up the government. Wilbur and his family also own the main office supply store on the island. They have a partner in Los Angeles who procures supplies and ships it over here. The little store at Nihco Park is stocked with Heineken and Corona from LA. Wilbur tells us that he brought in 50 cases of beer the last shipment. The Aussies have drunk 40 of them already.
“I have never in my life seen anyone drink so much,” he exclaims. We have a good laugh at the Aussies expense.
John and I spend the rest of the day trying to figure out the situation with the boat. Wilbur and his family walk us through the process of importation and tell us they are going to help us out. First we go to lunch at the Cliff Rainbow Hotel. We meet Pete who is the owner of the Cliff Rainbow and is a former governor of the FSM. We all sit down. Pete hands me some betel nut wrapped in some sort of leaf with powdered lime (not the fruit, the mineral).
“Will this make my teeth red?” I ask. You can tell any Pohnpeian who chews betel because their teeth are almost black from chewing the red juiced nut for years and years. I don’t want the same to happen to me.
“No, if you chew it everyday for a week maybe, but not from this,” Pete laughs. I place the concoction in my mouth and a mildly numbing feeling spreads from my tongue to my gums and cheeks. I’m feeling a little buzzed and it’s kind of. I spit out the betel when my lunch of sashimi and rice shows up. The tuna melts in my mouth as the sky opens up the rain pelts down around the outside of the veranda where we sit.
After lunch Jason, Wilbur’s son takes us to the customs office. They stamp our import papers and charge us six bucks. As we leave, Jason tells us that the guy who stamped out papers was his cousin. It’s nice having a few local connections!

Wednesday

No surf again. Aussies drinking again and they don’t head out until the afternoon. They don’t invite us to go out with them. I’m a little irritated and impatient. At least it gives me time to repair my surfboard. The kids are all fascinated by my board and spend a good bit of time running the hands around it and touching the wax on the deck.
At night I run into the local guys who work around Nihco. They are sitting in chairs surrounding a flat triangular rock propped up on two tires drinking Sakau which is the local version of Kava. The Sakau is a root that gets mashed up, water added to it, then wrung out through tree bark into half a coconut used as a cup. Alva, Joe, Jeffrey, and Redley invite me to sit down with them and I drink a couple of rounds. The Sakau tastes like cool mud going down and has the consistency of slime. I have to open my throat not to gag. Soon I have discovered another mouth numbing island sensation. After another round I’m feeling really relaxed and mellow. The guys tell me all about Pohnpei and the local traditions. Apparently there are six different dialects of Pohnpeian on the island. The Kava makes me tired and head off to bed.

Thursday

I walk downstairs from my bedroom and the Aussies still haven’t woken up yet. Damn, I hate depending on those guys. Thank god the ship with our boat will be here today. When I walk outside towards the lagoon Alva motions me over.
“Come eat with us man,” he says, his hand waving towards me. I walk underneath the thatch roof and sit down around the little plastic table. Jeffrey and Alva are eating rice and what looks like boiled meat for breakfast. I cringe a little bit. It is always a challenge for me to eat meat with big chunks of fat on it. I know I can’t refuse though.
“What kind of meat is it?” I ask.
“Pig man,” Alva says, pointing to the pen behind him with a large pig happily eating a pile of compost.
I hesitantly grab a pork rib. As I bite into it I decide that’s it actually pretty good. I spit out the fat onto the ground and it is quickly lapped up by the dog.
“We like you Americans better than the Australians,” Alva says. “They never eat with us or try our food.”
I look over and the Aussies are bringing their boards and equipment out! Sweet. We pile our gear into the boat and take off. John stays put to deal with the boat. We surf for a good four hours and then I go for a snorkel over the reef. I see other surfers’ feet dangling over their boards waiting for a set. The jagged reef is only a few feet below.
When we get back from surfing John is there with a couple bags of groceries from his trip to town. The ship has arrived but our boat has not been off loaded yet. Damn! Another day of waiting.