Four beers deep after the flight from Florida to Trinidad, our van arrives outside the airport, an hour late. Island time is in effect. Cyko, our driver, trips over the curb and falls on his shoulder. He’s been drinking all day and gets up smiling. This is going to be a good trip. A van full of Florida boys turned an hour and a half-long trip into a three-hour one, with multiple stops for photos and one questionable trannie in a mesh tank top. The duty-free, liquor-fueled drive was one of the best parts of the trip — Aaron “Gorkin” Cormican took it upon himself to get a bottle of vodka and try to drink all of it, while Jeremy “JJ” Johnston, not wanting to be outdone, drank Crown Royal like it was water. We all showed up at our rental compound slightly inebriated and came to find out that we would be staying in the Green House. How fitting.

With Trinidad resting 10 degrees north of the equator, and my big sweaty self in the top bunk, the lack of air conditioning was immediately taking its toll. We all woke up sweating at sunrise, hungover and looking for some breakfast. But the long-awaited meal showed up and took everyone by surprise: salt fish pitas with mullet cured in salt so it never goes bad. Not quite the hangover cure we were looking for, but after chowing down we were in the van and looking for waves.

I have never heard reggae music played so loud and frequently — everywhere we went, the bass was thumping out island vibes. The trunks of all the cars we rode in were filled with speakers and subwoofers, so my camera gear rested in my lap the entire trip. We pulled up to San Souci, the local corner for waves, and there was only one guy out. The surf looked waist-high at best, and the only person less excited than us was the guy out in the water watching eight bros pile out of a van. Two minutes later, a set pulsed through, and all of a sudden everyone was scrambling out for some nipple-high wedges. We nailed a couple of watershots with palm trees on both sides of the waves, so I was stoked to have a backdrop. Elohe Ali Alvarez, a Brazilian guy staying with the Florida crew, got the shot of the day with a big frontside boost right in front of the camera. After all of this, the one guy who was out before us ended up giving us tips on where to find the cheapest beer and just talked it up with us. I love this place. 

Later that day, we all went to the bar to mix it up with the locals. Three large NFL look-a-likes approached us and I was thinking we’d have to do them family style because we had no other chance to take them. The biggest one came up first: “How’s it goin' bruddahs? Seen ya surfin’ earlier, rippin’.” Unbelievable — he was just one of about a thousand locals that we met who were nice for no reason. Maybe it’s just an American thing, but I’m not used to people smiling, waving, and extending courtesy towards their fellow man. They even offered us some candy that looked like my can of Wintergreen Grizzly tobacco. Everyone took a pinch and fit right into this island town. 

After the first day of competition at the Surfing T&T International Surf Festival 2010, all of the Florida boys had advanced, so they were ready to cut loose. The bar right next to the wave was going off, with a DJ blasting “Hold Yuh” by Gyptian over and over. It ended up being the kind of song that you have to like, because all the van drivers loved it as well. The Carib and Stag beers were flowing all night, until a local offered everyone a shot of White Oak Rum, which as far as anyone could tell was rubbing alcohol. The boys must not drink moonshine back home, because they were not ready for this rum. I took a shot and acted like it wasn’t too bad. Nils Schweizer immediately had to try it, and he pounded it, looked up laughing, and then proceeded to the bushes to puke. Some memories were faded in the morning, but the photos don’t lie. We had a great time.

The final day of competition was somewhat disappointing for the Florida crew.  One of the quarterfinals saw Jesse Heilman, Jeremy Johnston, and Aaron Cormican all in the same heat. Although it was the most entertaining draw of the contest, Aaron ended up losing out on an interference call on Jesse, while Jeremy won the heat. Jamaican Michael Panton finished in 3rd-place and made himself some very useful money. Being the stand-up guy he is, Aaron even gave Michael one his boards so he could keep improving his surfing on superior equipment. The semifinals pitted JJ against two Venezuelans, who sat on him the entire heat, not even allowing him to get one set wave. Jensen Callaway had fallen victim to this same routine earlier in the day, as well.

The other semi saw Nils fall by a fraction of a point to yet another Venezuelan, whose claim on a three check-turn wave miraculously got him the score. After Billy Wilmot and the Florida crew had a little chat with the judges, it was decided: Jesse was now lined up with three Venezuelans in the final. The routine was getting real old real quick, and although Heilman got a couple of waves, he was still followed around the peak everywhere he paddled. Although disappointed with his 3rd-place finish, it did land Jesse $800 big ones. 

We went on to have some more candy and Caribs with the locals that night. Since we had to leave at 3:00 a.m., we all decided drinking through the night was the only option. By 1:00 in the morning, the party had moved to our rental, and half of the Venezuelans that we had been yelling at were skulling beers with us on the front porch. I guess that’s just how the spirit of Trinidad works — you can’t stay angry with people long on a tropical island.

Gorkin and Nils showed up back at the house at 2:00 a.m. claiming the best dance party they had ever seen, and after an hour of talking story about the night and the whole trip, we packed our boardbags in a drunken stupor and ended up falling asleep for about thirty minutes. What a mistake… hating life, we all had to get up and pack the van. I feel like we were more bummed out about leaving an amazing island than having to be awake on little to no sleep.

Trinidad was an amazing trip, and we only went there for a contest. I can’t imagine the time we would have with the right swell and a longer stay. Until then, “Hold yuh head up and deman’ yuh crown.”