PWA IWT Fiji 2023

After a delayed Opening Ceremony the Fiji Pro World Cup is officially declared open with a traditional Fijian blessing

Day 2 of the Fiji Surf Pro was in many ways a celebration. A welcome day of respite from the anxious tension that preceded Day 1, and the hyper-stoke that accompanied it. Opening ceremonies were postponed until Day 2 to provide the opportunity for Round 1 to run on Day 1, conditions being so prime for sailing. Now that the wind had eased, and the swell subsided, a collective breath could be taken.

In the morning, our media team continued to upload and edit the captures taken from the 1st Round. The layout of our hotel breakfast diner seating becomes largely governed by photos and video. Tables are arranged in patterns of bunched-up islands centered around laptop screens. With one photographer sifting through his or her media, a host of riders gather in formation behind the photographer’s shoulder. Like prospectors panning a creek bed, the process of editing is to find the gold as quickly as possible, assess its value, and move on to scanning for more. This runs counter to the instinct of the windsurfer, who wants to ogle the spectacle of a great shot, emphasizing it with a hoot and further frustrating the editor’s efforts to streamline their workflow! One corner of the diner would erupt in an elated cry, signaling that a perfectly timed shot of a big aerial was found, then murmuring would travel around the room and athletes from other islands would waft towards the scent of fresh content. A kind of musical chairs ensued.

Antoine Martin boosts an aerial

Just for context, on Day 1 we had a crew of five cinematographers and photographers placed in various areas of Cloudbreak. A good majority of the initial images that came out were from husband and wife duo: Fish Bowl Diaries. Paul Karaolides was shooting the channel-angle while mounted on a ski. Paul’s wife, Sofie Louca, captured stills from aboard the Thundercloud trimaran, pulled back some 200m from her husband.

It’s worth noting that after roughly a 10hr tour aboard the trimaran, Sofie shifts to all-night-editing mode just to get images out in time to post on the IWT’s facebook page.

This happens remarkably without much thanks, and miraculously without Red Bull.

Jace Panebianco sat inside the reef, where the old WSL judges’ tower has long since foundered in the reef, but the foundation still provides enough purchase, precarious though it may be, to place a tripod. Guillermo, a photographer for National Geographic, flew in to document the event. He swam in position just outside of the most critical barreling section, right before the wave runs into shallow reef at Shish Kebabs. All these people push their comfort boundaries in an effort to create their best art, and glean the greatest angle for the perfect shot. Paul van Bellen flies drone from aboard the Thundercloud, providing aerial angles to the broadcast. Paul’s also responsible for the multitude of the behind-the-scenes gold coming out on YouTube!

Each and every member of the media team works tirelessly through long days and late nights to get content online. They tackle the challenges of spotty Wi-Fi access, the logistics of working on the water, and the oppressive Fijian heat. Thanks to their efforts, notably those of Brian Welsh, Tritian Young-Glasson and Kai Katchadourian who pulled an all-nighter editing footage, a beautifully polished recording of Round 1 is available to view online.

While the media team works to capture the magic, the riders are out there pushing the limits of bodies, boards and rigs. The gear carnage on day 1 was significant but thankfully no bodies were broken.

The task of sifting though broken gear turned into an act of warm remembering. The scars our boards and sails bear becoming talking-points around the grounds of the resort. Each scrape and ding: a unique sigil, describing a moment of adrenaline. Among sailors, these moments are so easily communicated, the dialect of carnage pervades language barriers and culture differences.

After the morning ritual of breakfast and media processing, and once the gear had been thoroughly dressed down and prepped for the next days, our Opening Ceremony was ready to commence. This ceremony was the official welcoming of the windsurf community by the Village, owners of the Kuru Kuru reef. These villagers came with ceremonial bowls and Kava, sharing with us the traditions of their people. The officiating chiefs first oversaw the mixing of the Kava, then marshaled its distribution through the means of coconut-shell bowls. To drink Kava is to bond with the land and people, and the traditional nature of the ceremony slows the pace of time here: Fiji time. The word “Bula” is spoken when receiving Kava -a similar word to Aloha in Hawaiian- and “Matha” is the word used to express gratitude and finality once the cup is emptied. The Kava bowls are passed around the ceremony so slowly and deliberately that a clandestine kind of calm sets over the grounds of the hotel. In drinking, and speaking the Fijian words of gratitude, the nature of the day is profoundly changed. Now the concerns of media can, temporarily, disappear, and the concerns of human beings relating to one another come to the fore. The proceedings were also enriched by the fact that we had already gone and sailed the spot, and so we drank Kava together, grateful for the generosity of the Fijians, humbled by the perfection that we had experienced, lying just offshore.

In the most hospitable fashion, villagers had also prepared a monumental feast of slow-cooked pork and smoked lau lau leaves. Music and dance ensued, and kava flowed more casually now that the ceremony was concluded. It was during this time that true bonds could be made. And not just between windsurfers and Fijians, but amongst the diverse ensemble of windsurfers participating in the Unified Tour. There may be no better way for PWA and IWT athletes to come together than over a bowl of Kava, satisfying soul food, and the afterglow of a perfect windsurfing session.

Text by Bernd Roediger

Photos by Fish Bowl Diaries

Men's fleet whittled down to just the top 8 ahead of Finals Day

Day 2 of competition featured the Men’s quarterfinals. The remaining 16 were accompanied by many of the original fleet in a 2hr warm-up/free-sail. Upon arrival to the break in our village longboats, it was clear that the swell, predicted to build through the day into Monday, was slow in coming in. An extremely low tide had also settled over the break during midday, which further frustrated any swell trying to swing out over the reef. With these conditions, it was decided to run later in the day with tide push.

During the free-sail I tried to stay busy and adaptable in the marginal (marginal for Cloudbreak) surf. And for a while I really felt good about my session, seemingly able to find some nice rides up and down the reef. I’d be in a heat with Ricardo Campello (Naish / Naish Sails), Antoine Albert (Goya Windsurfing) and Liam Dunkerbeck (Starboard / Severne Sails / Black Project Fins); and in sailing with them prior to the heat, we fell into an easy rhythm trading sets.

Ricardo Campello

Once the actual heat commenced however, a notable shift came over the four of us, each isolating to a distinctive corner of the reef. Liam and I operated inside for a time, but were force outside once Ricardo roped into the first set wave. The first of many that he’d manage to find in that heat. Antoine ran in obscurity, chipping into deep waves that I had assumed wouldn’t offer much wall down the reef, but he likewise managed to get in sync with the sets! A set wave from that far up the reef remained open for a plethora of turns.

On to to Heat 2, featuring Baptiste Cloarec (RRD / RRD Sails), Antony Ruenes (Tabou / GA Sails), Morgan Noireaux (JP / NeilPryde / Black Project Fins) and Flo Jung (Starboard / GUNSAILS / Maui Ultra Fins). Baptiste has been the consecutive standout performer in both days of competition. His approach to the wave is compact and coiled within its hollowed recess, springing up into the lip when the moment is right. In some ways, the riders chalked his sailing in Round 1 as a “make it or break it” strategy, lacking in consistency, doomed to eventually land him on Shish Kebabs with a broken mast. But up until this point, he’s stomped the majority of what he’s gone for, and it’s looking more like he’s got the spot, and his sailing, wired.

Florian Jung on a Cloudbreak beauty

I learned recently that Baptiste has also had a hand in designing every piece of equipment he rides, even going as far to stitch his own sails. Windsurfing will benefit greatly from this young man’s ingenuity and surf knowledge.

I hope I don’t sound biased when I say that one of the biggest upsets of the day was of Antony beating out Morgan. I felt that he had really strong chances in this event, having a good knowledge of the wave from surfing and windsurfing it last year and this year. But Morgan wasn’t fated to advance, as it seemed that his best waves lined up further down the reef, and often stretched into territory out of the line of sight of the judges aboard the Thundercloud. From where the boat was moored, the the end-section could only be seen from outside, behind the wave. Flo’s situation was somewhat similar, from my angle getting really great rides on the inside. However, some of the deeper waves breaking off the point provided longer rides for more scoring opportunity and held open within the Judges’ sight. Both Antony and Baptiste were able to capitalize on these waves to great effect, showing great adaptability in these conditions.

Heat 3 seemed like the most hotly contested battle of the Quarters. Each rider occupied the same small sliver of the take-off zone and the jockeying between them was unceasing. I noticed Leon opening early with a very strong wave, vertically attacking the lip and finding some great release off the top. That is something notably challenging to do in these conditions, with fast waves and offshore winds. Busting the fins out can be forced, and that forced slide looks pretty obviously manufactured. On the other hand, the wave can be much more easily approached with carving turns, going for spray and “arc”. A balanced mix of power and fins-free is difficult to manage, but Leon Jamaer (JP / NeilPryde) managed excellently. Unfortunately, it came down once again to Takuma Sugi (Tabou / GA Sails / Black Project Fins) and Antoine Martin’s (Starboard / North Sails) wave selection. And when Antoine is given the opportunity, with a bigger set and fat section over a dry reef, he’s gong to wow the judges by boosting to heights unattainable by the rest of the wavesailing fleet. He lofts his airs in two stages: breaking away during the initial hit and then flying off in a separate action of catching the wind.

Antoine Martin

In the final heat Robby Swift (JP / NeilPryde) and Marc Paré (Fanatic / Duotone) were to hold solid dominion over the highest scores for the duration. Both Robby and Marc are incredibly consistent sailors, and keen competitors. Robby has been making strides in his surfing approach to Cloudbreak, and it truly shows in his sailing. Likewise, Marc has charged some of the deepest/steepest takeoffs of the trip and found success in translating that adrenaline-filled data into his sailing. I’m a fan of both of these guys and know they’re going to absolutely crush it when the swell builds for Day 3, finals day.

Robby Swift

It’s interesting to note the differences in tide and timing between our two days of competition at Cloudbreak. While Day 1 was run at high tide, this 2nd Round was held use a few hours past dead low. Low tide, combined with a full moon, left the reef on the inside totally exposed, adding to the level of difficulty in choosing one’s line, and staying just in front of the closeout. There was honestly a lot more about this small day that felt sketchier than the larger Cloudbreak that had previously competed in. If we had run in the size we had on the first day, with the tide of the second day, I shudder to think of how may sailors might have had their gear truly shish kebab-ed. Day 3 might well have the gnarliest carnage of the trip as the tide and swell are lining up to put the riders in this precarious position.

You’ll know by now that I like putting my own personal experiences into these write-ups. This time around I’ll try to toe the line of discretion since, of course, the way I truly feel about losing in this competition won’t make for all that pleasant a read.

So what is it like exactly to lose a heat? Well, first you’ve got to find out what your result was. In this case, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with my heat but I was pretty confident that I’d squeaked into 2nd and had therefore advanced. I was actually so confident that I didn’t really check right away. I felt this nebulous sort of safety that, “yes the heat had been tough but it had been tough for everyone.” Sometimes it’s very difficult to keep track of the waves that your competitors are riding, and so you have to make assumptions. My assumption was that Ricardo was out in front from early on, roping into the few good sets that could really stretch out over the length of the reef, providing more opportunity to score, and more critical set of sections to wow the judges with. With him in first I had picked up the remaining scraps and put together a solid-enough heat to advance.

At some point you come down from the feeling of the heat, the light mental exhaustion of managing your stress, your timing, your competitive life that is born when the flag is hoisted, and slowly dies as the final minutes come to close. As breathing returns to normal, the mind centers again on the immediate and mundane, like whether you should back up and go home or prepare for more sailing. In my case it was a ‘pack up and go home’ situation, after finally I checked my Live Heats app and found out comically that, “oh, I lost!”

From that point you just gotta vent out the negativity for a minute. Luckily for me, Liam Dunkerbeck and I were in the same boat, both literally and figuratively as he had both been eliminated in the same heat. So we commiserated together for a while about how lackluster the conditions were, or how difficult it was to put together a good score. Of course the counter-argument to such talk is that the potential for scores clearly existed, as the heat winners made it happen. This was the perspective that Bjorn Dunkerbeck held -also sitting in our sad, wet, boat- and took to reminding us of it immediately. He wouldn’t let us wallow.

In the end the spirits of lost sailors don’t dampen very far. And how can they in Fiji of all places? Each goes into their private space for a moment or two, upon returning by boat to the villas. For me it was a long shower and a look at messages from home, encouraging ones help, but distracting ones are more effective for mitigating the blues. Being wrapped into the melodramas of friends and family members help to put into perspective the relatively low-stakes losses suffered in a windsurf contest. Thinking of equally arbitrary hardships being ridiculously overreacted to by people in their own little worlds, well it might as well be therapy.

In no time there’s the smell of food coming from the kitchen, people are coming out from their villas as night falls, the sunset hours enticing even the melancholy to turn their heads up. I join a table of friends: Kai Katchadorian and Jace Panebianco chatting about their respective art forms, heavy metal music and cinematography go together like Kai and Jace, and if you don’t know what that looks like then just hop onto YouTube to check out today’s Replay. There’s Paul van Bellen looking fried after a day of media work aboard the Thundercloud. I sit down and order my usual from the restaurant, chicken curry with garlic spinach. And behind me comes Federico who has also joined the loser’s club today, he looks for a seat at the table and I make one for him.

I’ve always liked Fede because his spirit is pure, he’s got a familiar softness that reminds me of others in my life who are genuine and kind. Fede and I engage in a little commiserating about each other’s losses, that’s what good sportsman do. But after a while it gets to sound, even to the both of us, a touch bitter, so we drop the subject and look around the room for something else to talk a bout, Fede orders a beer. It was a pleasant sort of surprise to see him pulling on an alcoholic beverage and I tell him so. After all, the last time I saw him drink was the end of the Punta San Carlos event in 2019 and, I remember then that he had said these exact words: “Last time I drank a beer I almost died and I think I’m allergic to it but here goes!” It’s worth noting we were then in the desert hours from a hospital, and there’s a similar risk at present here in Fiji! But Fede says he found out he wasn’t allergic a long time ago, and enjoys a beer once and while. It must be once in a long while because it’s only after about a half a beer that Federico becomes “Fun Fede”. Laughing and giggling about the silliest things, if you’d like to know then just have a look at Paul van Bellen’s YouTube channel in a few days when he’s posted Fede’s takes from that night.

It struck me as kind of funny then, as Federico and I both headed back to our villa for the night, remembering that just days ago Federico had one of his best standout performances in a heat, on probably the most high-profile event of the year. What did he do after beating out the likes of Brawzinho and Marc Paré? Did he party until dawn, get a tattoo? Did he even reach for his “once in a while” beer? No. He slept the entirety of the next day. He rested off what he said was a cold, insinuating that I had set his AC on too low through the night; but it was clear, to me at least, that he’d just been through a very emotional ordeal. I’ve been there before! Victory just takes the wind out of your sails. When everything you’ve been anticipating finally comes to fruition, there’s a massive release. A high that’s usually accompanied by a deep low. Odd then, how the reverse can also be true, that a loss, which should make one feel very much depressed, should induce a kind of silly and gooey feeling, erasing cares and lowering guards. Life is truly beautiful no matter how you play it, win or lose there are always upsides.

Take for example, the most winningest athlete in the history of professional sports, Bjorn Dunkerbeck (Starboard / Severne Sails). A man whom the windsurfing world both fears and reveres, a stoic destroyer. Well, he hasn’t won much in a while, not saying he doesn’t find little ways to be #1 in any given situation, but he’s at least learned to live with the fact that he is a mortal. A day like today, with marginal wind conditions and tiny waves, is enough to get him rigging and hoping, but the reality of his 15 minutes on the water isn’t glorious. But the waning terror in his facade reveals such a complexity of passion and a deep care for windsurfing, as well as windsurfers! I think it’s hard for people to remember, and for the younger generation to find out, that for Bjorn windsurfing was a family affair. His mother and father actually organized the events in the Canary Islands, centering them around the close-knit windsurfing community. Bjorn, I think, really values strong bonds, strong connections with people. He’ll approach you with such a rawness of intention and authenticity, coupled with a sharp intellect, and you’ll be thrown off guard, defensive even. But I think his meaning is to build, rapidly, a foundation of relation with you in the most immediate way possible: pure honesty.

Take me. The other day I scraped up my back pretty good on the reef at Cloudbreak and needed some wound care, I had packed a first aid kid but my Hydrogen Peroxide bottle had burst inside it, soaking my bandages and ointments, rendering most of it useless. I was out without anything, and for a whole day I walked around with a dry wound, picking up dirt; all manner of flies hovering around it just waiting to reap the rewards of my mismanagement. Bjorn practically assaulted me with a bottle of unknown liquid he claimed was good for “cell regeneration”, and I just chose to go with it, no other options being available. Actually, it’s been really effective, and I’m constantly hitting up Dr. Dunkerbeck for more of this healing spray. And it’s given everyone around here a pretty good chuckle to see 40x World Champion Bjorn Dunkerbeck gingerly operating a spritzer bottle, applying healing oils to my back with the pragmatic yet diligent softness of a trained nurse. But that urge to care is the nature of human beings, so why should it be so incredulous, given that Bjorn is a member of our race? Albeit a rare outlier in terms of athletic success. I’ve come to know Bjorn as a gentle Bear, a strong figure in the lives of many, a teacher, an encouraging presence. To see him teaching Fijian kids to sail in 3 knots of wind, inside the pacified waters of a lagoon; it’s quite a sight! It is as impressive as seeing him charging out to 10ft Cloudbreak. He tackles both tasks with equal Bjorn-ness, laser focus, no wasted motions. He operates kids onto windsurf boards like he’s majoring in robotics. He doesn’t compete to win but to support and promote our competition, what a cool way to use one’s success! In my opinion, losing -or rather a retirement from constantly winning- has brought some of the best qualities in Bjorn out to people like me, who might’ve never gotten the chance to see it.

Another word on Liam, son of Bjorn who is in every way a boy wonder, capable of becoming as much a champion as his father. Only in a wider range of sports. His surfing at Cloudbreak has been so cool to see, consistently riding with the timing and edge of a seasoned tour surfer. He’s comfortable in big waves, he knows his way around a barrel. And on the windsurfing side of things he’s a well-rounded mix between the jumping and waveriding sides of our sport. In this heat, Liam was out in front of me, for a while vying for 2nd with Antoine. But the nature of the day led to a big flip in the dying moments, where we all managed to rope into a set and shake up the scores. Liam was discouraged, coming aboard the boat in an exasperated huff. As I said before, Bjorn wouldn’t stand for us wallowing for long. But really, he did very encouragingly remind Liam of his strengths, how better to apply them next time, and what might be learned. This all reminded me the coach/athlete relationship I had with my dad, at times stressed, but always supportive. He speaks to Liam in Spanish too, which I think is funny, being this big Danish dude; maybe nothing that meaningful or symbolic but, to me, a sign of how a father learns to speak with his son in “his language”.

At the time this write-up is proofed and published, breakfast will be underway, all the remaining competitors will have their gear prepped and ready for the village longboats. We’ll all be gearing up for a long day of supporting our friends still in the contest. Here’s to seeing some great action in the Final!

Text by Bernd Roediger

Photos by Fish Bowl Diaries