Holly Wawn Crowned Champion Of 2024 Mai Tai Masters

$40 at the Turtle Bay pool bar will get you two cups of rum, orange liqueur, lime juice, and sugar syrup, both topped with a glistening pineapple and a technicolor formaldehyde cherry.

Consumed in the space of 15 minutes, the concoction will conjure a vague delirium, dubious feelings of warmth, and, if you were on the pool deck yesterday afternoon around 3:30 PM, an entry into the Mai Tai Masters.

The event, hosted by contest director (and competitor) Nate Leal, was the latest iteration of a long running tradition held at the warbling right-hander which wraps around the northwest corner of the storied Turtle Bay headland.

The rules are simple: consume two Mai Tais before your heat, and go surfing. 20 minute heats, no interferences, no priority, no criteria — highest scores go to whatever generates the most noise from the cliffside peanut gallery.

Judged by Nate Rogers, Ryan Ripko, and Scott Sisamis of Vans, this year’s heat draw included Curren Caples, Elijah Berle, Dion Agius, Coco Ho, Harry Bryant, Holly Wawn, Sophie Bell, Karina Rozunko, Russell Bierke, Andrew Kaineder, Wade Carroll, Cam Richards, Noah Schweizer, Nate Leal, Jimmy Wilson and a handful of Stab’s finest.

The sun descended over the distant Ka’ena Point, Creed blasted from poolside speakers, and a crowd of sunburnt tourists gathered to watch the degenerate clan of guerilla competitors leap from lava-spiked cliffside into a narrow keyhole of whitewash. Among the crowd, appeared Ross Clarke-Jones and 1988 Pipe Masters Robbie Page, grinning and ogling amid the spectacle.

“It’s fucking firing out there,” shouted Curren, as he slurped the dregs of his second booze grenade before his heat.

So it was.

Scores were kept and heat draws were scribbled on crumpled napkins. As the rounds progressed, so too did the tomfoolery. Extra points for on wave nudity, friendly fades, getting burned by SUPers, going left, boogie-boarding, and carving threes. Half-points if you were in the actual 2024 Pipe Masters.

As the evening went on, a handful of uncharacteristic tubes wound down the usually soft pointbreak.

“If somebody gets one of those, it’s over,” grinned Cam Richards, as the 8-person final took to the water.

Halfway through the 20-minute affair, Holly Wawn stroked into a perfect sidewedge, stalling briefly before backdooring the wave of the day — sending the degenerate cliffside crowd into explosive delight.

Returning to the pool deck, Holly was delivered her coconut trophy by none other than Ross Clarke-Jones, before being paraded around the pool deck. The night quickly devolved into a blurry blend of pineapple visions. At one point, the Rock’s official stunt double appeared in the lobby bar, posing for photos and throwing wide shakas.

Maybe next year there will be a livestream.