I stepped off the twelve-hour flight well-rested and amping, with images of the famous left point reeling through my mind. Armed with a brand spanking new quiver, a very promising buoy report and a local guide to show me around, I couldn't helping thinking to myself, 'Happy birthday Bryan. This is as good as it gets'.

But alas, maybe it was not to be. The first words out of my guide's mouth were, "It's been flat for a month, mate. But there's a little beachie right around the corner from where you're staying that we should be able to get some fun little waves." He stopped. "And hey, at least the sun's out!" His name was Dave Jacobi, and he was a glass-half-full kinda guy -- a good trait on any surf trip.

But the thing is, I had just left SoCal's neverending summer -- I went to New Zealand for surf, not sunshine! I stayed positive, though. We jumped in the car and talked (well, actually Dave did most of the talking) about politics and nature, mainly. He knew the name of every specimen of every plant we passed along the way, and I was trying to take it all in, but I couldn't wait to see the ocean, knowing the buoy reports I had were indicating a solid seven- to- eleven-foot swell due to arrive the next day, my birthday. I figured 7-11's gotta be lucky, right? Lucky enough to wrap into the headland and turn Raglan on, I hoped.

After a few stops along the way, we turned the corner and Dave got excited as we both noticed whitewater at the rivermouth -- seconds later we could clearly see the lines starting to march in from the south. And lemme tell ya, it was the most beautiful sight I'd seen in a long time: four guys out, overhead sets pinwheeling down the point. Just two and a half hours off the plane and we were suited up standing in the keyhole waiting for a lull.

"No worries, mate the paddle is easy as," Dave smiled.

'Easy as what?' I thought, but said nothing.

Dave might have been caught a bit off guard by the new swell, but he was dead right about the paddle: not a drop of water out of place and no duckdiving -- just enjoy the show from the channel with a smile. Ten minutes later we were in the lineup and the first overhead set rolled through. My first wave at the point was the fourth in the set. Six backside snaps later, I kicked out 150 yards down the line, and I thought to myself: "Happy birthday, Bryan. This is as good as it gets."

Jetlag caught up with me that evening and I crashed out early. I woke up in the middle of the night to find that the buoy reports were on the money, and it was only gonna get bigger the next day, my birthday. I could barely close my eyes as the sets pounded and pounded away at the huge, round boulders.

Just before dawn I saw a set march in with perfect 300-yard lefts, 12- to 15-feet on the face reeling down the point. We were on it!

The same mellow paddle out to the lineup -- happy birthday Bryan! -- a light, cool offshore breeze combined with the early morning sun low on the horizon created blinding freefall take-offs. Paddling, squinting getting to my feet and spotting the familiar CI hexagons on the nose of my board at the last second of the freefall, I was barely able to keep the nose from catching at the bottom. Fortunately, I made it and continued into a drawn-out bottom turn into a series of top turns, all the way into the bay -- it's amazing how great waves slow your surfing down! And so it went for five hours straight. Twelve guys out. Fifteen waves in a set. Everyone smiling, laughing out loud.

As the lines continued to stack up, the sun crept higher in the sky and the offshore wind turned light seabreeze, which just made it better. Some of the locals took a tea break and were back out within the hour. The light sparkled on the green tinted waves, the sky was deep blue and the backdrop of 800-year-old Tea trees and magnificent mountains was almost overwhelming. Combine that with waves that made your thighs feel like rubber two thirds of the way thru a session, and a paddle that turned your arms to noodles. My heart was pumping my mind was spinning and I was soaking in every breath like it could be my last birthday ever!

By the evening session, word was out and everyone was on it. It was a little less consistent, but the size remained. The vibe had changed -- it was a little tenser -- but the conditions were sheet glass. I decided to paddle out for one more session, knowing that I would only grab a few -- there were too many fresh arms and legs for me to compete with. Besides I didn't need to compete, it was my birthday.

I paddled out by myself to the Outside Indicator to watch the sun go down; waited and watched the locals pushing each other deeper and deeper on the sets, I sat on the shoulder and just enjoyed my surroundings. As the sun set through the incoming evening clouds, the sky turned from gray to pink.

Nearly dark now, I was completely content to be non-aggressive and enjoy being the presence of one of the wonders of the surfing world. But, lucky for me, a set came through, swung wide and I was in perfect position for the peak. I rode from Outside to Inside, sat there for a few minutes, grabbed another at Insides. After my last turn on jellied legs, I proned out and rode all the way to the keyhole.

Raglan had been kind to me, another precious gift. I had found perfection on a strange wave in a strange land -- exactly why I left home in the first place. As I exited the water, the sky was turning dark and it was time to take a hot shower, have a cold beer and talk story with both friends and strangers about the perfect waves we'd shared. "It doesn't get any better than this," I kept saying. "And you know I'll be back next year." -- Bryan Pohlman

(This Tripwire was made possible by the kind folks over at Quiksilver Travel.)