The cry from the sailor in the crow's nest high above Capt. James Cook's HMS Resolution shivers the timbers: "Cowabunga, dood!! Reef ahead and I can see men walking on top of the waves, heading for the beach."

     He wipes the salt off the lens of his looking glass for a better view of Kealakekua Bay, Hawaii. "No, they're not walking...they're riding trees. These dudes are crazy!"

     Thus was the sport of Hawaiian kings disocvered on Jan. 18th of this year, by English haoles, tourists who could navigate their way across oceans but rarely took dips in the surf and had no idea those pounding curls could be so much stokin' fun.

     It was a natch match for the island riders of waves who called themselves he'e nalus. Plenty of willwill trees around. Plenty of nalus, bigger and better when storms pushed in a set of swells.

     Of course, a 16-foot, 100 pound plank cut about six inches thick could get mighty heavy carrying it to the beach on your head: "Don't show me your knee knots from paddling, br, I got knots on my skull to put those to shame."

     Once waterlogged, getting a board back to the village was even worse. "Eat more poi, catch more tubes" became the rallying cry for locals. He who outweighed his boeard was totally cool.

     Equipment? No bagies by Quicksilver (naked surfing started when modesty gourds hindered maneuverability). No leashes Velcroed to an ankle (wipe out and it was a long swim to shore). No fin on the end of the board. (These sticks went one direction, straight down the wave). And no Sex Wax for the deck (one slip and it was splinters time).

     Picture this scene as a hot surfer tries to teach Capt COok's crew how to hang ten: "Sure you don't want to ditch those trousers? They would get in the way when you gotta stand up quickly."

     "Naw, just point us in the right direction."

     "OK, follow me and watch out for the coral heads, sharks, riptides, jellyfish, and big ol' breakers that can blindside you and knock you silly."

     The trembling haoles paddled out and waited for the perfect set. It was the first surf contest.

     "Go, dudes! Show your stuff. First one to shore gets the biggest piece of pig at the luau. And wahines will be waiting to shake their grass skirts with the winner."

     Without Bruce Brown to film all of this, history leaves us hanging as to who got the trophy and future sponsorships.