When a long-period swell lines up in the South Pacific, plans change. Isle Pacific follows a crew of friends as they drop everything to chase waves in Fiji — a stripped-back look at timing, trust, and the moments that make it all worth it.

Surfer: @haydencervi
Photographer: @alexbenaud.
Videographers: @olitaylorfilm & @samleviings

Putting life on hold to live.

By Alex Benaud
 
When that purple blob pops up on the charts, it begins. Calls are made, flights are booked, and before you know it, you’re staring at a wave that could just as easily be the best or the worst of your life.
 
My friends and I had been watching the swell charts for the last few months, religiously combing the oceans on our computer screens for anything red or purple every evening after work. We wanted to score some big waves and had been discussing how exciting it would be to push the needle a little further than what we were used to.
 
After coming close to pulling the trigger on numerous occasions, stopped only by outside commitments (aka life) and disappointing swell forecasts, we finally came across what we were looking for. On 20 May 2025, a solid swell with 20-second periods was forecast to hit Fiji.
 
Flights were booked, and a crew was assembled. Swells can fizzle out as fast as they can form, so we made the call only a couple of days out, putting all of our faith into those purple blobs on our computer screens.  
 
Going on a trip with your best mates will always be one of life’s guaranteed pleasures. There is a unique excitement that brews within each other — a childlike sensation comes over the body and all your senses are heightened. After the boards are checked in, the oversized luggage fees are paid, and the customs are cleared, those pre-flight beverages are some of the sweetest you’ll ever experience. It was happening — life was put on hold for one magical day of waves.
 
After four hours of intermittent sleep, we arrived in the tropical paradise that is Fiji. Our energy levels were at an all-time high, and the realisation slowly started to sink in: we had made it. The instant warmth of the Fijian people could be felt through their contagious smiles — “Bula, Bula! Welcome to Fiji, brothers!”  
 
We all pile into the awaiting minivan, which whisks us through the picturesque Fijian countryside on our way to our homestay. There is no time to waste — bags are loosely thrown into our rooms, and the boards are pulled and loaded onto the boat that will take us to Cloudbreak. The first few days were spent familiarising ourselves with the waves, culture, and people. The tranquil tropical atmosphere made it hard to imagine that this place would soon be hit by monstrous waves.
 
20 May, the day of the swell
 
5:00 am
The alarm sounds, but the crew is already awake. We are all hovering needlessly in the kitchen, making sporadic eye contact and repeating the words ‘it’s time’. There is a mix of excitement and nervousness — you spend so long imagining what the wave will look like, how big it will be, and if anything will go wrong.
 
5:29 am
After a few instant coffees and some peanut butter on toast, we load the truck up with boards and squeeze inside.
 
5:57 am
Headlights flash, and the boat is signalled. Boards, camera gear, and a first aid kit are the first things to make it onto the boat. There is a sense of apprehension in the air as we sit with deep thoughts and fixed eyes on the horizon.
 
6:34 am
The boat trip feels twice as long as on previous days, but we eventually edge closer to Cloudbreak. Whitewash can be seen from a mile away, breaking across the outer reef and sending swell lines towards the usually flat inner sandbanks.
 
As we pull up to the channel, thunderous waves rifle down the point, drawing huge roars from the crew. The forecast had lived up to its potential, and these really were some of the best waves we had ever seen. The boys enter a state of composure, where not much is said, and a close eye is kept on the line-up, studying the wave and its personality.
 
“After turning up that morning, I set myself a few little goals: to take my time, feel the line-up, absorb the energy, and not rush. About 10 minutes after getting out there, this wave arrived, and I happened to be in the perfect spot. Hayden was just outside of me and called me in. It felt like time slowed down on that wave. This is the feeling we chase, and that’s why we do it.”
 
“I remember this west peak that rolled through. It looked like a closeout, but I remembered that those can sometimes be the keepers, if you commit and keep your speed up. I swung late, dropped in and glided into one of the most perfect waves I’ve ever been inside. The board engaged just as it was designed to, and I held my line and enjoyed the vision.
 
This was one of those sessions where you wait a lifetime for a hope that everything aligns for you to have a few moments like this.”

The calibre of surfing that went down on the day deserves nothing but respect. Every surfer in the line-up knew what he or she was doing, which is a testament to the dedication these athletes put into their craft.
 
Each wash-through set would snap at least five or six boards, leaving surfers scattered across the inside reef as they succumbed to the ocean’s sheer force. One thing is knowing how to surf these waves, but another is knowing how to handle yourself when things go wrong — something Thomas has learned over the years from surfing waves of consequence around the world.  
 
“You just had to dive deep and stay relaxed when those big wash-throughs came in. Then it was a matter of resurfacing, taking a few breaths, and taking another four or five on the head, trying to stay relaxed the whole time. But all the floggings and hold-downs were forgotten when you got one.”
 
From dusk till dawn, we experienced the raw beauty of the Pacific Ocean, constantly pinching ourselves in disbelief. Any doubt that may have crossed our minds was automatically quashed; there was nowhere else on earth we were meant to be, and the stars had aligned perfectly.
 
6:16 pm
With battered bodies, broken boards, and smiles as wide as the barrels we had just witnessed, we gather into the boat and watch the sun set over the Pacific Ocean with a Fiji Gold in hand — the nerves of the morning now replaced by joy and satisfaction. As we motor back to the homestay, photos and videos from the day are passed around, reliving the moments while hooting and hollering all the way home.
 
The mission was complete, our cups were full — it was time to leave Fiji and head back home. After a traditional farewell feast and a few too many kavas, we packed our bags and followed our footsteps back to where it all began. The wheels touched down, the seatbelt light turned off, and we were back at work the next morning. Dreaming, waiting, and watching for another purple blob to pop up so we can do it all again.