Our first surf did not befit the week it took to arrive in the middle of nowhere. It was only two foot but as Micky Picon kept shouting, "It's so peerrrfect!!" We dived in and at long last washed off the dust and sweat from our travels. It was our first day on board the Indies Trader and we'd already found surf. The potential of the wave gave us hope for a successful trip - a left reef pass which bowled into a lagoon. The location was serene and the water pristine.

It seemed the perfect anchorage to start our voyage. This was the start of a boat trip with a difference, the way to do things into the millennium. What started as a dream trip is now reality. A 75 foot boat with speed boat, two jetskis, diving kit and a crew whose sole aim is to find waves and promote reef protection. The destination is the South Pacific, the deadline is a year and the surfers are Quiksilver riders who change every two weeks. Quiky, who started taking pro contests to Javanese jungles to find good waves, have gone on to bigger and better things.

Our crew included Micky, Todd Morcom (the fastest US surfer since Slater), Peter Mel (Mavericks big wave man), Strider Wasilewski (Pipeline regular and guide to Los Angeles nightlife). Plus Jeff Hornbaker who was recording the action on film. And gadget man, technological rep for Bill Gates, antique dealer and photographer ...the one and only Narbe.

On my first night on board the roll of the swell woke me, or was it the need for fresh air after sharing a cabin with Micky? From our porthole window we awoke to see perfect four foot tubes peeling down the same reef. The boys were in there shredding faster than you can imagine. Todd's backhand snaps were tight and fast; Micky's fins were sliding out; and Strider's aerials were the only things in the sky providing shade. I tried to copy the best bits from everyone's styles. After catching so many waves with not another surfer in sight we were exhausted, stoked and amping to stay the night to surf it again before moving on.

The next morning I watched Micky get three or four tubes before I realised it was bigger and more perfect. He just keep saying, "It's soooo peerrfect". You could tell by his smile he didn't mind missing croissants for breakfast when you get tubes instead. The choice between surfing the perfect bowl section or the bigger perfect outside section was demanding...what a dilemma!

Strider, Pete and I paddled up to a super shallow section further up the reef. The classic wave, the classic day. Late drop ... stand casually in the tube ... get spat out. Meanwhile, Todd and Micky took the speedboat up the coast and found a perfect righthander. They surfed in the company of a young local boy who must have got his board from a fellow traveler. Surfers have spread around many corners of the world. We had to find some more!

Sailing away, we knew uncharted water lay ahead. Every time we stopped to check spots our tattooed orange and blue boat drew attention from fishermen and children in canoes. Curious, inquisitive and friendly, we'd welcome them on board and exchange stories. The cliché "what's around the next point?" kept us alert, and in between surfs the "South Pacific Fishing Championships" were going strong.

Crocs, Seasnakes and Noahs

We stopped at a luscious islet where a left peeled off a mangrove swamp. The paddle from the boat to the lineup crossed over an ultra deep, ultra blue ocean trench. I thought the hundreds of feet of water below me would contain enough fish to feed any sharks, but I paddled fast just in case. A seasnake slivered past and warnings in the guidebook about four-metre saltwater crocodiles snapped in my mind. I'd decided to trust a shark before taking on a crocodile in an eat-all-you-can contest. It was after talking to a local sailor that we fully realised the danger we were in. A diver had been eaten by a croc exactly where we'd been surfing, and a few villagers go missing each year.

Strider's birthday fell on a flat day of waves so Paul the chef prepared steaks and insisted on opening the captain's gin and having a wicked barbecue. It resulted in boat jumping in the dark and raucous celebrations. Great fun. Meanwhile, back in the capital, ethnic riots had been broadcast on the radio and we were warned to keep clear of some islands known for piracy. Our skipper bypassed the trouble spots but it seemed hard to imagine trouble in this very traditional country. Everyone we met greeted us with smiles and questions. We explained that we weren't here to over fish, or with missions to tear down forests, which I'm sure helped.
At one sheltered cove the locals told us of a ceremonial burial chamber. After the chief granted us permission we were escorted by hundreds of smiling kids who laughed and waved at the visitors to their island. The ancient remains of village chiefs lay in a thatched hut. Skulls and skeletons were powerful images. It was an incredible realisation that life is short and death is permanent. The rituals and traditions remain strong in communities which are mainly self-sufficient. But nothing was better than the playing, happy children. There are some incredibly skilled carvers all over the islands but they were happy to trade for dive equipment, fins, masts and fishing lures, which in these remote areas is more necessary than cash. Everyone bought back momentos like stone gods, shell money and wood craft. It was only Narbe who bought so much that he had to airfreight it back home and hide the rest in Micky's board bag so that he didn't have to carry it!

With lots of talk about big waves from the Americans, we were keen for a last good swell. The perfect lefts that we scored at Crocodile Island and Pielonge Point were "soo peerrrfect" but smallish, and time was running out.

On our last day the swell picked up. Heading towards the port we searched in a last attempt to score some size. We found a righthander in a secluded bay with jungle all around which was fun and shallow but not epic. We surfed it and moved on. With only two hours before dark we stopped at a possible six foot left. It was closer to eight foot once we paddled out and it was going off! Solid drops and sick barrels were everywhere. Micky snapped his board and Strider caught the wave of the trip. Everyone got tubed off their heads; it was everything we wanted and the timing was perfect.

We sailed overnight to meet the changeover crew - Danny Wills, Mick Campbell and Jake Paterson.

As we made our way to port in the early morning light, we were blessed with a farewell from a pod of dolphins. The water was clearer than glass and the dolphins played magically in the bow waves. The trip of a lifetime was over for us but just starting for the Aussies. I don't know exactly where the boat is but it's cruising the South Pacific doing its thing right now with some very stoked people on board.