I did science at school. I was the pyromaniac who set things alight with the Bunsen burner and stole the matches. I was the kid blowing up stuff at the back of the classroom, I was the kid with the dirty lab coat that always had one sleeve burnt off it. I was the kid who for some reason always wore his plastic goggles, even if we weren’t doing any experiments that day.
I liked science class. Science is about hypothesis. Make an assumption, then prove it using any means possible like heat, movement, noise or combining it with other stuff until it explodes or burns off your moustache.
So here I find myself, with a hypothesis. I am sitting on a theory that needs proving, and it goes like this: the Hawaii of my dreams still exists.
You see, Hawaii has been prestiked to my walls since I was 8 years old. It has been imprinted into my brain since I could understand TV and it has been the centre of my universe since I started riding a surfboard. Hawaii is cooking waves, beautiful beaches, gorgeous women, sunshine, waterfalls, rainbows, barrels, aloha, Foodland, Lopez, Hamilton, Lifeguards, body surfing, palm trees, huge waves, lava rocks, cold beer, milk and honey.
It is the drama of the Pipe Masters, the broken dreams of big wave beatings, the glory and the praise. Hawaii is the shiz, the origin and the blackhole. Hawaii is this incredible dream for me, despite all the stuff I’ve been told about crowds, crime and contests.
So welcome to the experiment. I’m giving it a month to see if my theory is right, and I’m using any method I can backed up with heaps of research. I’ve recruited a mad scientist or two to help us out along the way, and there’s a whole lot of experiments to be done, because there’s a world of ways to prove this theory.
Is the Hawaii of my dreams still out there? Let’s find out.
