Like a lot of the best ones do, the trip to Samoa came together at pretty much the last possible moment.
I was in the process of getting the final clips together for my film Zipper and was waiting around for waves in New South Wales. But things weren’t lining up like I’d hoped, and we were getting skunked and in the middle of bad, rainy weather.
Looking at the forecast, there was a swell hitting way out in the South Pacific that looked like it might be really good. Dion Agius, Harry Bryant, photographer John Respondek, filmer Dave Fox, and I made the call to fly out to Samoa that same day, and we touched down on the island about 12 hours after we’d decided to go. None of us had been there before, so we had no idea what we were really in for.
While Samoa doesn’t get nearly the amount of attention that a lot of other surf zones do, it’s not a huge secret, either. Especially in Australia, since it’s not too long of a flight. People keep their eyes on it when a swell is on the way, in case conditions line up—which is pretty rare, because it requires a very specific wind to turn on. We ran into Kael Walsh, Louie Hynd, and Toby Mossop at the airport. They’d tracked it and made a last-minute call, just like we had. Lucas Godfrey, who’s from Hawaii, and who spends a fair amount of time in Samoa, was also on hand, having done pretty much the same as the rest of us.
We landed at the height of the swell. On our first morning, we went down to surf, and it was intense right from the get-go. We got down to the harbor and the ocean was just scary. The water was brown and churned up, the floating jetties were shaking around, and the big yachts were smashing into them. One boat was washed fully up on the rocks.
We organized a boat to take us out to the wave, and it was a mission getting it loaded up and out of the harbor. We were all looking at each other like, “Really?” It was just butterflies straight away, especially for someone like me, who doesn’t surf big waves much.
Then there was the wave itself. It breaks at least a mile out to sea. That first morning was wild. It was massive, but it wasn’t perfect by any means. There’s a peak, but because the swell angle wasn’t exactly right, and because it was pulsing, every so often there would be these crazy, wide things that would catch us. Some of them were just so brutal. We got so many on the head. Even John and Dave, who had to swim because the boat was rocking so much and couldn’t anchor at the right spot to shoot and film, got worked over pretty badly a few times.
That first day proved difficult in figuring out the lineup—where to sit, which waves to go on, which waves not to go on—because it was so tossed up. Then there was actually reading the waves once we were on them. With the way the waves were shifting around, each one felt like it did something different, like how it lined up down the reef or where it would suck out and bowl over. It was easy to get stuck a little bit behind the peak, then be behind it the whole way. For me, Dion, Harry, and Louis, it was extra tricky trying to figure it out on our backhands.
It was pretty humbling dealing with all that power. I air-dropped into one wave and my board landed sideways, and when I slammed, I did a scorpion and felt my back crack super hard. I felt tingly and thought for a moment I might have broken something. When I fell on that wave, my leggie also snapped and my board got swept out to sea. I have no idea where it ended up.
Afterward, I swam over to the boat for a bit, a little shook up, but fortunately I was okay. Knowing what I know now, I definitely would’ve brought some bigger boards, and for sure would have brought a quad setup, as opposed to the two-plus-one I rode most of the time. Dion, Harry, and I were just out there in boardshorts, while some of the other crew had a bit of safety equipment, which was probably a good idea. That’s how heavy it was.
Still, everyone was keen for it and got some crazy ones—misses and makes. After a few hours, we called it and headed in. Getting the boat back into the harbor and the dock was just as much a mission as it was heading out.
The second day was smaller and cleaner—sheet glass, lined up, just dreamy. It was still heavy, though, and the occasional wide one swept through, but nothing like the day before. It was probably a good thing that we’d given it a try and learned as much as we could to figure it out—it gave us confidence for the second day to push it, since it was so much more manageable.
I got some really nice waves. Harry was going ballistic, as he always is. Dion was sitting right over the ledge and getting under some crazy double-ups—proper square ones. Kael, Louie, and Toby all got plenty of huge tubes. Lucas did really well out there. He knew the lineup like the back of his hand, and it was paying off. He was getting about as deep as possible, it seemed. We surfed ourselves silly for about five hours, then the wind picked up.
The third day was the last real hit of the swell. We didn’t have the boat anymore, so we had to paddle our way out there—with myself pulling John behind me. About halfway to the lineup, the wind turned onshore. We all got a few more good ones, and we definitely could have stayed out longer and gotten more, but at that point, after three straight days of surfing and being in the sun, we were all pretty cooked. We just couldn’t go anymore—but in that way after you’ve scored, where it feels really good to pack it up.
The surf faded a bit after that, which, to be honest, was kind of nice. Sometimes it can be good to be on a trip before the main swell arrives, so you can build up to it. This time, we got what we’d come for right off the bat in terms of the waves, filming, and shooting, which can also be a good thing—just getting it done and relieving the pressure. Only our flight back to Australia wasn’t for another week, so we got to spend the rest of our time on the island, just enjoying it.
The main town and capital, Apia, has some stuff going on, and there’s a few resorts down at the waterfront where we’d go for dinner and a drink. We rented a house out of town, up in the hills, and after the run of swell spent our days just cruising around and exploring. The island isn’t very big—you can drive around it in about four hours, which is similar to how long it takes to drive around Oahu—so we’d get going each day and either do a lap in a different direction or follow the roads that cut through the middle. Since none of us had ever been there before, it was cool to check the joint out.
It’s a beautiful country, very green. It was just as pretty on land as it was out in the water. There are mountain ranges and deep valleys, with waterfalls tucked away in between that we got to check out, swim in, and jump from. There’s natural springs. It’s similar to Fiji, Tahiti, and Hawaii, obviously, but felt extra quiet and laid back—real sleepy—especially out in the country. There were a lot of churches. It looked like there was some farming going on, and the Samoan people were incredibly friendly.
Mostly, though, we kept surfing. As we made our way around the coastline, we came across a bunch of other waves. Some have names that I won’t mention. Some probably don’t have names at all. We made it a point to surf only if there wasn’t anyone else out. Compared to the spot we’d surfed the first three days, the waves we got afterward were much more user-friendly, with some fun little ramps, walls, and barrels—all on our own. After we surfed, we’d hang out on the beach. Just ideal.
[Feature image: Chippa Wilson]
