Buoys Club

That’s when the real adventure began. The current was strong, and with a 10L board, there was no way I could paddle back. I started drifting slowly toward the side, trying to figure out a plan. Then I remembered something Brendon had told me earlier: “Bro, the easiest dockstart is from the buoy.” I looked around and spotted a red cardinal buoy in the middle of the pass. The current was ripping, but I thought, “why not?”– so I paddled straight toward it, climbed up, and finally felt safe.

New plan: dockstart from the buoy. Except… it wasn’t that simple.

The first problem – the buoy kept turning. Every time I tried to face the current, it spun the other way. I couldn’t get the right angle to start. I spent five minutes wrestling with it, trying to line up. Then came my first attempt. Big fail. The moment I pushed off, the buoy spun like a top – no power, no stability, just splash. I tried again. And again. Four times. Each time the same. The current was strong, my legs were shaking, and I was starting to stress. I was in the middle of the pass, on a tiny board, being pulled toward the open sea. Not exactly the chill dockstart session I’d imagined.

So I had to find a trick. After a few minutes, I realized I could use the buoy’s rotation instead of fighting it. I started moving around it slowly, shifting my weight to control its angle. When it lined up perfectly with the current, I jumped – no hesitation. That was the key. I finally took off from the buoy and got the perfect lift. I started pumping hard against the current. Every muscle was burning, but I kept going, managing to pump all the way back to shore – a full kilometer on the 940.

When I finally reached the beach, I went straight to Brendon to tell him what had happened – the spinning buoy, the fails, the stress. He just laughed. Then he said, “Bro, come back to the buoy. I’ll show you how it’s done.” So we went back out together. He climbed onto the buoy like it was his living room, calm and confident. Then he showed me his trick – no fighting, no stress. He let the buoy turn naturally with the current, waited for the right angle, and popped off effortlessly. And that’s when I understood: it’s all about timing and control, not force.

We finished the session laughing, dockstarting from every buoy in the channel, catching boat wakes, and just having fun. Each buoy was different – some stable, others spinning like crazy – but once you found the rhythm, it was pure joy.

The next day, I came back with my Foil Drive. I was still sore from the day before and, honestly, didn’t want to risk getting stuck again in the middle of the pass. And wow – it was perfect. I used the motor just to take off, then shut it off to ride. The whole session was way more relaxed. I could follow boats without worrying about falling or wasting energy. It felt like freedom. Riding in that turquoise lagoon, with sharks and rays gliding below, was pure happiness. No stress, no competition – just fun. The local crew was super friendly too. Everyone was smiling, laughing, giving tips, cheering each other on. The vibe was amazing – simple, genuine, full of stoke.

At the end of the session, we sat on the rocks watching the sunset over the lagoon. Boats passed by, leaving small waves that shimmered in the golden light. I just sat there thinking how cool this sport is. Foiling connects people. It makes you travel, meet locals, learn new tricks, and push your limits – sometimes even from a spinning buoy in the middle of a pass.

That day taught me something important: sometimes the “easy spot” isn’t easy at all. But that’s what makes it fun – the fails, the stress, the laughter after a long session, and that feeling when you finally make it. So yeah – big shoutout to Brendon and Tiavairau for the warm welcome and for sharing this amazing spot. It turned into one of those sessions I’ll never forget – a mix of adrenaline, challenge, and pure joy. Tahiti always delivers – but that day was special.