KSA-PNI

By Michael H. Kew

A perfect wave two miles offshore Micronesia’s definitive “garden isle” was for 35 years a secret held near and dear to the Pacific cognoscenti. But in November 2004 a surf camp launched and the industry began pimping Palikir Pass. Soon the seldom ridden right-hander was thrust into the surf-world's eye.

The camp was and is Pohnpei Surf Club (PSC). Serendipitously that same month I witnessed PSC's first Palikir media trip (for Tracks). Five years later I delivered to The Surfer's Journal a reportage titled "The Taking of Pohnpei." The piece ran 26 pages and, based on historical outings and subsequent crowdings of similarly remote tropical waves, my contempt was masked thinly. But history, as it turns out, would not always repeat.

PSC is largely the brainchild of Allois Malfitani, now 64, a relaxed and convivial goofyfoot who'd hailed from Florianópolis in a previous life.

"Your hair is a lot whiter, eh?" he said, grinning at me. "If I saw you in the street, I wouldn't know who you are."

We stood in the warm orange slant of late-afternoon sun outside Mangrove Bay Hotel, a waterfront two-story clutch of comfortably modern accommodations and offices and since 2014 the home of PSC. Adjacent is a sushi bar and a tidy little marina where Allois keeps his three boats. He employs a dedicated and beloved Pohnpeian staff. His clientele has morphed from all surfers in autumn through winter to now few surfers overall meshed with a somewhat steady stream of scuba junkies from across the globe.

"Divers come at 8 or 9 a.m. and leave at 1 p.m.," he said. "I don't have to talk to them ever again." He laughed. "Surfers on the other hand want to go at 6 a.m., come back for lunch, go out again, come back at 7. Other people are easier to deal with. But I like surfers—I'm a surfer."

He'd surfed a lot on Oahu's North Shore where eight years were burned managing a busy hostel. In 2000 he boarded the Island Hopper and, after visiting Kosrae, he landed on what would soon become his new home.

"Before that first trip here I thought: well, it could be better than Hawai'i. Maybe there's a little surf community. Well, 24 years have passed. It's quieter now than it's ever been since I started PSC. What difference do you see compared to the first time you came 20 years ago?"

"No surfers?"

"Yeah. Nobody. It's dead. Well, there's one guy who lives here. I haven't seen him in forever. And there's another guy, Buzz, who moved from Maui. He surfs a lot. And there's one other guy, Zenn, from Oahu who's living here part-time. It's not for everyone. Goes flat for months. Every summer I wonder: Will I ever surf again?"

Since November 2004 millions of winter waves have hucked over Palikir's pristine coral. Hundreds of humans, Tom Curren to Joe Blow, have ridden them.

"Those first few seasons, man—so perfect."

And rare. Metaphysically risky, PSC's arc was at once unprecedented and unpredictable based as it always would be upon affordability (i.e. insanely high airfare) and reliable accessibility versus the creatively cruel whims of nature. Which of course always bats last.

Eventually his website included a quasi disclaimer: No, Pohnpei is not always 8 to 10 ft with top to bottom barrels and pro surfers like you see on surf magazines. Those days do happen 2 to 5 times depending on the year.

"Yeah, those early days were busy," he continued. "And then there was the other surf camp. They were cheaper. Different customers. It's still closed after COVID-19. When I reopened, I booked a small group and it felt...right. I thought maybe I'd just charge more money for fewer guests. So that's what I'm doing. And the people who come are happy."

Ah, the feared surf camp: soiling of a paradise extant. Mitigation—time, in this case—actually worked.

Despite Palikir's deviations, since 2004 Allois has facilitated a lot of happiness for a lot of surfers. Which is all that matters. There's been no collateral damage. Quite the contrary. Happiness is not a secret meant to be kept.

Originally published in The Surfer’s Journal. Excerpted from Xanatollu (2026), my book about the world-famous Island Hopper flight route from Hawaiʻi through Micronesia to Guam. Signed copies available here.