Don’t Ride This Wave ….*unless your name is Robinson, Slater or Moore.
The 2024 Olympic surfing comp will be held at Tahiti’s treacherous Teahupo’o. Going for gold could be deadly.
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It’s day two of the 2023 Tahiti Pro Surf Competition. I’m perched on the roof of a VIP boat around 100 metres from Teahupo’o, one of the world’s most dangerous waves. American Surf icon Kelly Slater has just been swallowed by a heaving wall of turquoise water. I’m so close to the action that when he’s finally spit out from the ride, my face gets misted in ocean spray. Below me, Australian Jack Robinson, who will go on to win the event, sits on the edge of the boat performing breathing exercises ahead of his heat. Around me, a flotilla of kayaks, jetskis, surfboards, and small vessels bobs in the channel, acting as a floating stadium for fans.
For many of the competitors—and the 1,400-odd residents of the wave’s namesake village—this year’s contest is a dress rehearsal for an event with a far larger global profile in a few months’ time. While many of the world’s top athletes will travel to France in July for the 2024 Paris Olympic Games, the most talented surfers will head here, to the southwest corner of Tahiti island’s small peninsula, Tahiti Iti, to vie for gold at Teahupo’o in just the second surf competition in Olympic history.
In keeping with the limit of two surfers per gender, per nation, the Australian flag will be flown by Ethan Ewing (No. 2 in the World Surf League rankings at the time of writing) and the aforementioned Robinson (No. 5) in the men’s category, and Tyler Wright (No. 3) and Molly Picklum (No. 5) in the women’s. On this form, hopes of a homegrown medal haul are high.
Olympic officials could have chosen a site off the coast of France, such as the surf towns of Biarritz or Hossegor, but historically, Mother Nature brings more sizable waves to Tahiti at this time of year. Plus, surfing has deep cultural ties to the region. The sport originated in Polynesia and dates as far back as the 12th century; it was practiced by Polynesian royalty. Teahupo’o is also a world-class wave that challenges the mental and physical prowess of even the most experienced competitors. The high risk of surfing this spot guarantees thrills that officials anticipate will boost viewership.
Located in the gin-clear waters of the South Pacific with a background of mountains that appear to be draped in jade-green crushed velvet, Teahupo’o (pronounced TAY-a-hoo-poh-oh) is one of the sport’s most infamous swells. (Its name loosely—and cheerily—translates to “place of skulls”.) According to Memoirs of Marau Taaroa, Last Queen of Tahiti, printed in 1893, the first person to surf it was actually a woman from the island of Raiatea, in the 19th century. Not until the 1980s did anyone dare attempt it again, with the first competition hosted in the late 1990s. Former pro turned filmmaker Chris Malloy has called it “the wave that has changed surfing forever”.
In the right conditions, Teahupo’o can tower upwards of six metres. That may sound small compared to the monster-size Jaws in Maui or Nazaré in Portugal—which can climb as high as 25 metres—but it’s not the height that makes Chopes, as the wave is lovingly called, so special. It’s the weight. When surfers describe a wave as heavy, they’re referring to its combination of a thick lip (the powerful section that starts to curl over) and the amount of water surging behind it.
Like most of the surf breaks found throughout French Polynesia, Teahupo’o is a reef break, meaning the water spills over the surface of knife- sharp coral. Chopes is unique because around 50 metres beyond the reef, the ocean drops more than 15 metres. As swells come toward the shore, the transition from deep water causes them to jack up over the coral before quickly crashing down with tremendous force.
“The reef evolved perfectly in order to absorb the wave’s energy in the shortest distance possible to create this natural wonder,” surf superstar Laird Hamilton tells Robb Report. “It’s a wave that stands straight up and creates a huge barrel. It’s one of the greatest waves on Earth.” In 2000, Hamilton rewrote surfing history when he rode what has been dubbed the Millennium Wave here. Up until then, Teahupo’o was considered too perilous to attempt when it reached a certain size. Hamilton, a pioneer of tow surfing, had a jetski pull him into what is still considered one of the heaviest waves ever ridden. Surfer magazine published a memorable cover of him getting barrelled with just the words “Oh my god…” because the feat was so dangerous.
In places, the reef lurks just 50 centimetres beneath the water’s surface, and the lip can act like a liquid guillotine if it clamps down before a surfer exits the hollow tube of the wave, known as the barrel. Had Hamilton wiped out, he wouldn’t have had an escape route.
I’m an avid amateur surfer and live on Maui part-time to take advantage of Hawaii’s waves, but even on a gentle day, I wouldn’t attempt Teahupo’o. Teahupo’o village has a water-safety patrol that watches over athletes during contests. Still, a handful of surfers have lost their lives here, and many go home with serious battle wounds. In August last year, during a practice session for the Tahiti Pro, Ethan Ewing fractured two vertebrae in his back after crashing out in solid, but average, six-foot waves—an accident that arguably cost him top spot in the world rankings.
In classic gung-ho-surfer fashion, though, the Queenslander was back in the water at Teahupo’o three months later, one eye still resolutely fixed on Olympic glory. “Definitely more anxious than excited heading back to Tahiti after hitting the reef really hard last time,” he posted on his Instagram account. “Teahupo’o is still seriously intimidating, but I feel like I’ve made some steps in the right direction.”
Unless you surf, Tahiti Iti probably isn’t on your radar. Starting from the largest town of Taravao, the south-coast road ends at the village of Teahupo’o, hence its nickname, the End of the Road. The community, just 500 metres from the wave, is the antithesis of the glitz and glamour of Paris or even nearby Bora Bora. This is a slice of tropical paradise that has somehow evaded development. To reach the contest each day, I park at the end of the road, then walk over a one-lane bridge and follow a sandy path that passes local homes.
“All of your senses are heightened here,” former world surf champion C. J. Hobgood tells me when I run into him at the event. “It’s not just the wave—it’s the island. Everything looks five- dimensional. Mountains seem stacked on mountains and glow a vivid green. You turn to the right and these bluer-than-blue waves are breaking. Then a rainbow might appear in the sky. The raw beauty is overwhelming to take in when you first arrive.”
Surfers talk of feeling the mana, a Polynesian word for spiritual energy, here. Jack Robinson even referenced it after his victory in the Tahiti Pro. It may sound woo-woo, but I undoubtedly feel something when I arrive after a 90-minute drive south-west from the hotel-lined harbour of Tahiti Nui, the island’s larger, more developed area. Tahiti Iti’s empty beaches and waterfall-riddled lush interiors remind me of a quieter, more vibrant version of Hana, a little corner of Maui with just one hotel, a handful of restaurants and kilometres of untamed nature. In an era of over-tourism, this kind of purity comes with a trade-off: You won’t find five-star hotels or celebrity-chef restaurants on Tahiti Iti. In fact, it doesn’t have any hotels at all—and won’t be opening any ahead of the Games.
Locals have been adamant that Olympic infrastructure remains minimal. The proposed construction of a three-storey judging tower directly on the reef at Teahupo’o has been a major concern among residents and environmental groups. The one Olympic improvement locals welcome is a new bridge that will connect to the beach in front of Chopes.
I check into Villa Mitirapa, newly built in the rural community of Afaahiti, a 25-minute drive from Teahupo’o. Giant carved wooden doors lead to an open-air living room, a plunge pool and views of the lagoon, and every evening a chef drops by with a delicious preparation of the catch of the day. In the village of Teahupo’o, you’ll find family-owned guesthouses such as Vanira Lodge, a collection of three bungalows tucked up in Te Pari (“the cliffs” in Tahitian), as well as A Hi’o To Mou’a, a B&B run by the proprietor of hiking outfit Heeuri Explorer.
Pro surfers are typically hosted by the same local families year after year. (During the Olympics, athletes will be housed on a ship anchored in a sandy area offshore to avoid damaging the seabed.) Hobgood tells me he made visits to his “adopted Tahitian family” for nearly two decades. For the past five years, he has come to Teahupo’o to help coach reigning Olympic champ, Hawaiian Carissa Moore and now stays with her adopted family. “They take us on hikes you’d otherwise never know how to access and have rich stories about the place,” he says. “And everything they prepare for us at meals, from the passion-fruit jam to the chilli sauce, is homemade.”
The next big thing being “adopted” by a Tahitian family is hiring Raimana van Bastolaer as your guide. For a first-time visitor, Tahiti Iti can be far harder to access than other islands, which is perhaps why so few people explore the peninsula. You need a local to reveal where to go, and van Bastolaer makes you feel like an insider.
Born and raised in the capital of Papeete, he was one of the first locals to surf Chopes, and over the years, his intricate knowledge of the wave has earned him the nickname the Godfather of Teahupo’o. He was out in the channel with Hamilton the day the American had his historic ride, and John John Florence and Kelly Slater are among the surfers who stay with him when they’re in town. Van Bastolaer even did a stint as a part-time coach at Surf Ranch, Slater’s central California wave park. Thanks to his non-stop pursuit of a good time, everyone wants to be around him. Now 48, the stockily built, dauntingly athletic van Bastolaer has become the go-to guide for visitors ranging from Julia Roberts, Margot Robbie and Jason Momoa to Mark Zuckerberg and Prince Harry. “I get to yell at princes and CEOs,” he jokes. “I’m out in the water with them telling them when to pop up and paddle. And they love it.”
Tahiti’s unofficial ambassador lives and breathes surfing. Through his company, Raimana World, he takes just one or two guests at a time on private curated surf tours throughout French Polynesia’s two central archipelagoes: the Society Islands (which are home to Tahiti) and the Tuamotus; he plans to add Fiji soon. Some of his clients base themselves on their own yachts or charter one through Pelorus. The yacht specialist’s Tahiti portfolio includes the 77-metre La Datcha, which has two helipads, a submersible and a spa.
Other clients he directs to exclusive properties, such as Motu Nao Nao, a new 25-hectare private-island resort in the cerulean lagoon of Raiatea with just three enormous villas crafted from coral, wood, and shells. A roving bar bike delivers custom cocktails to guests as they explore the island, and the French chef, inspired by Asian and North African cuisine, prides himself on never repeating a dish, no matter how long guests stay.
Van Bastolaer gets only one or two clients a year experienced enough to be coached into a barrel at Teahupo’o. “Most just want to get close to the wave to feel its energy and hear it roar,” he says. “That’s enough to give you an adrenaline rush.” Locals are incredibly protective of their surf spots, and van Bastolaer stays away from popular breaks. “Out of respect, I don’t take clients out if there are more than a few people in the water. Luckily, I have access to toys that get us away from the crowds.” He island-hops by helicopter, yacht or jet boat, then transports guests to surf breaks via high-speed RIB (rigid inflatable boat) or jetski. Most days average two to three hours of surfing, and he sprinkles in other activities such as snorkeling, whale watching (July to November) and barbecues at his house.
Papara, the beautiful black-sand beach where van Bastolaer honed his skills, 45 minutes from Teahupo’o, will be turned into a fan viewing zone with jumbo screens during the Olympics. Papara is one of the most forgiving surf breaks in Tahiti, and I head here to longboard. La Plage de Maui, a simple restaurant with sandy floors, plastic chairs and lagoon vistas, becomes my daily après-surf spot. Located in West Taiarapu, 40 minutes east of Papara, with nothing but coastal road and local homes in between, this humble spot sits next to Maui Beach, one of the only white-sand beaches on the whole island. This stretch may be Tahiti Iti’s best-kept secret.
After a barefoot walk along the shore, I don’t bother to put my shoes back on before heading into the restaurant, where servers proudly sport Tahiti Pro T-shirts and posters of pros hang on the walls. At a waterfront table, I spot rainbow-hued parrotfish and Moorish idol in the glassy lagoon. I’m pretty sure I could live on a diet of local Hinano beer and poisson cru, Tahiti’s national dish of raw fish marinated in lime juice and coconut milk. My final day, I ask my waitress if she’s concerned the Olympics might overexpose this laid-back, oft-forgotten enclave. She just laughs in reply.
On the drive back to my villa, I remember what van Bastolaer told me when we were introduced a year ago: Tahiti Iti’s specialness is lost on those seeking overwater bungalows or nightlife. It’s a place you can’t know in a day. The island reveals itself to you slowly. And even when van Bastolaer is your host, he won’t give away all its secrets.
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Black tie, that essential marker of an increasingly rarefied ceremonial style, is inspiring. Nothing coaxes men into upping the sartorial ante quite like reading those words on an invitation. I say amen to raising the bar, but I can’t bear wearing a traditional bow tie—and haven’t done so for over a decade.
Around the turn of the millennium, I was enthusiastically dress-code obedient, but two unstoppable forces put me off: Fashion moved on, and I got old. Where abiding by hallowed traditions once felt exalted, it suddenly began to seem restrictive and stuffy. And while it was extraordinary to be a bow-tied 30-something, in my 40s, the convention made me feel like a pompous, conservative square. Now, menswear has changed so much that bow ties register as pedestrian garb better suited to waiters than to revellers.
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Form and Function
I got excited seeing Lemaire’s slim metallic modernised bolo ties in the house’s fall 2024 show. A favourite of men as varied as Johnny Cash, Bruce Springsteen, and Snoop Dogg, the bolo is perhaps best remembered as the chosen neckwear of John Travolta’s surly hit man, Vincent, in Pulp Fiction. Originally, Native American tribes including the Zuni, Hopi, and Navajo used these accessories used to fasten bandannas with plaited-leather cords. High-end versions double as a bit of jewellery, with silver slides set with turquoise and often engraved with animal motifs, including buffalo skulls and eagles. Contemporary takes abound, but vintage sleuthing can turn up some particularly beguiling options.
Gambling Man
Varying in size, flounce, and attitude, ribbon ties—also called gambler or Kentucky neckties—have long been a legitimate black-tie alternative. Actor Cillian Murphy has worn Saint Laurent’s take to various award shows, looking stand-alone chic and authentically cool. They have a distinct Western energy—Kirk Douglas donned one as Doc Holliday in Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, as did Robert Vaughan in The Magnificent Seven. But they’re as much rock star as they are gunslinger: The late Johnny Thunders of the New York Dolls and Bauhaus front man Peter Murphy (style role models of mine) also wore them with panache. Take a note from the runway and wear them with a pair of boots—cowboy, Chelsea, or with a Cuban heel—to really step away from the standard.
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If you want to give yourself some breathing room, consider scarves and neckerchiefs. This fall, Tom Ford proposed a louche take on evening style, using black, slim-plaited, or delicately sequined scarves whose long tassels provocatively dangle at the hips. For maximum effect, the brand styled them with open satin shirts, recalling rockers Mick Jagger and Rod Stewart. London’s La Bowtique also does beautiful outsize bows. On a smaller scale, the Twilly—a short silk scarf pioneered by Hermès—works in much the same manner. The French maison makes gorgeous options with angled ends for extra verve, whether hanging loose or more discreetly knotted.
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Throw in an endless endowment of free Champagne for guests and VIP transport from the mainland via superyacht, and it barely matters that the three-day jamboree is, in the words of founder and curator James Nicholls, “a logistical nightmare”.
“People love the energy, the adventure” says the Anglo-Italian, a broadcaster, writer and photographer whose extensive resume includes various stints as a concours judge across the world. “There’s a great contrast between the luxurious motor cars and the industrial environment. The Turbine Shop [a timeworn, hanger-like space used to display the vehicles] is where ocean-going liners and propellers were built. People interested in cars are also interested in that kind of thing but it’s just a backdrop. Cars are the main focal point.”
The concours d’elegance concept (“concours” means “competition” in French) can be traced back to 17th-century Paris, when aristocrats would flaunt horse-drawn carriages in local parks during summer months. Animals eventually gave way to automobiles, and the gatherings mutated into more organised contests in which these new-fangled contraptions were, in somewhat prescient fashion, judged solely on the appearance. The trend spread throughout European high society, before reaching America in 1950 with an inaugural pageant at Pebble Beach, California—a concours which has since evolved into a behemoth of the species, now billing itself as “the world’s most prestigious car show” and drawing 214 vehicles and spectators in the low five figures at the last annual meeting. Other concours are thriving globally, from spectacles in Lake Como in Italy (the longest running event, launched in 1929) to Udaipur in India. Vanity, it seems, remains in vogue.
Among this storied company, Sydney’s interpretation is playing catch-up. But Nicholls insists the local variant—launched in 2019, having occupied three other citywide locations—has no intention of locking horns with competitors. Not numerically, at least.
“In 2024, we had 500 people over the three days; this year we’ll aim for 750. But we’re never going to become a 20,000-people show,” he says. “We want it to be bespoke and beautiful, so people don’t have to queue for a glass of Champagne. You can talk to the car owners, and everyone feels like a VIP.” The overarching aim is to become a “destination event” on the socialite calendar, on par with the Melbourne Cup or the Australian Grand Prix.
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Up to seven “classes” will be open, including categories solely for Porsche Speedsters and pre-war Australian coachbuilt cars. Two 1930s Bugattis are slated for appearance, one of which is, as this article is being written, on a boat somewhere, on its way to Australia. A panel of seven judges, led by the first ever female concours head assessor, who also adjudicated in 2024, will select the overall “Best in Show” winner—scored last time out by a 1964 Ferrari 250 LM, a model line with a $24 million price tag attached. And in a progressive play designed to lure the oil-shunning generation, an “electric elegance” section will debut. Nicholls estimates the combined value of all this precious metal at around $80 million.
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The duffel, which Sinner describes as a “timeless classic,” showcases the house’s signature beige and ebony colorway, the iconic GG monogram, and a contrasting green and red web stripe. It also features the athlete’s initials near the straps. Ironically, the rather traditional design has called into question a 150-year tradition.
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The 23-year-old, who turned pro at age 18, became a Gucci ambassador in 2023 in his first luxury fashion endorsement. “Gucci for me represents Italian excellence around the world, excellence which is rooted in tradition as much as in innovation,” Sinner said. “This is the kind of message I am proud to convey when I represent my country wherever I am in the world.”
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Hole In One
The Citizen Kanebridge VHG Golf Open Returns to The Southern Highlands This February.
The third annual Citizen Kanebridge VHG Golf Open Day is happening again this year at Citizen Kanebridge Lodge in the Southern Highlands on Friday, February 21. Players will tee off from 8 am for a day of unrivalled bucolic hospitality in the spirit of friendly competition.
The Open unites forces with the operators of Mount Broughton in Sutton Forrest to stage the popular day, in which teams of four enter to enjoy 18 holes of unadulterated fun.
Players will meet at the clubhouse, where—golf aside—they will be served breakfast, lunch and liquid refreshments throughout the day before heading back to Citizen Kanebridge Lodge for a special dinner, fun awards ceremony and more drinks.
Located just 10 minutes from the Citizen Kanebridge Lodge in Berrima, the stunning Mount Broughton course gives players—male and female, and ranging from amateur to semi professional—the chance to compete in a golf day with plenty of high-jinks and food along with way.
The event is part of the new offering from Citizen Kanebridge, a private membership club based in Sydney. Citizen Kanebridge allows members to have access to the Robb Report Club(RR1) based in the United States of America, Citizen Kanebridge Lodge in the Southern Highlands of NSW, and The Royal Automobile Club of Australia (RACA) in Circular Quay, Sydney.
Members interested in Golf Open Day, may enquire by reaching out to leanne@citizenkanebridge.com.au. For more information on Golf Open day, you can download the information brochure here.
Love golf? jump to our golf connoisseurship package from the Spring 2024 issue of Robb Report ANZ.
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