For most surfers, Tahiti begins and ends with Teahupo’o. For David Biner, it was just the starting point.
Based in Indonesia, the photographer and filmmaker, who operates under his company name Indo Eye, recently spent a month travelling through French Polynesia, with a camera in hand and enough time to look beyond the end of the road. The resulting film captures the waves, landscapes and characters he encountered along the way, but also offers a glimpse into a place where surfing is deeply intertwined with a broader ocean culture.
Rather than striking Teahupo’o, David had the luxury of slowing down, connecting with locals and exploring what lay beyond Tahiti’s most famous wave. He came away impressed not only by the quality and variety of the surfing, but by the generosity of the people, the depth of their connection to the ocean and the sheer scale of the environment.
We spoke to David about the differences between Tahiti and Indonesia, the emerging generation of French Polynesian surfers, earning the trust of locals with a camera in hand, and why there’s much more to a Tahitian surf trip than Teahupo’o.
Check out the conversation below.
You are based in Indonesia. What were some of the distinctions you saw between the surf cultures in Tahiti and Indonesia?
Hahaha, right off the bat I noticed Tahitians are morning people, unlike Indonesians. Here, we tend to have more morning sickness, with afternoons usually offering better conditions. Combined with Bali’s nightlife, that makes locals more into the party scene and later-morning surfs.
Another difference is that in Bali and much of Indonesia, restaurants and cafes sit right in front of the waves. They naturally become meeting spots where people hang out, watch the surf, talk shit and enjoy some nasi goreng and Bintangs. The surf culture almost builds itself around those places.
Tahiti is different. Many waves are on remote reef passes without places for surfers to store their things, eat or drink. It creates more independence in people’s surf routines and strengthens the bonds between crews who have to organise themselves.
Tahitians also seem more connected to the ocean as a way of life. Surfing is just one part of being a waterman. Fishing, freediving, canoeing, snorkelling and bodyboarding are all deeply ingrained in the culture. In Indo, most local surfers’ main connection to the ocean is through surfing. So while the passion is similar, the environment and lifestyle create some interesting differences.
What was your estimation of the emerging surfing talent in Tahiti? Not just as barrel riders but all-round?
There are so many rippers coming out of Tahiti and French Polynesia. It seemed like locals once learned by watching the pros who came over, but in recent years they’ve started surpassing them in all realms.
Teahupo’o is one of the heaviest tubes in the world, so having that as a training ground naturally produces incredibly comfortable slab surfers. But there are so many different waves around Tahiti and the neighbouring islands, and you can see how they’ve developed their versatility.
There’s a river-mouth beachie on Tahiti that’s basically a training ground for aspiring CT surfers. It’s like a skate park for performance surfing, and you can see why guys like Kauli can hold their own on waves that don’t barrel.
I also saw some proper air game from Tahitian locals outside Teahupo’o. Overall, I was seriously impressed with the skills of the French Polynesians. But their warrior spirit and natural talent really show when you see what they throw themselves into on the bigger days.
Were you made welcome by the local surfers, with camera in hand?
It really depended on where I was and who I was showing up with.
Teahupo’o is such a globally recognised wave and major platform for visiting surfers and photographers that it was different from some of the other waves I shot. On the biggest swells, I could be one of 14 water photographers in the lineup, and you quickly become aware of a pecking order.
As for the surfers, they love getting their shots. Many would approach me afterwards to link up on Instagram and see what I got. At a spot like that, you’re a surfer’s best friend.
When I travelled to other waves, I was fortunate to be taken under the wing of locals who brought me to more sensitive locations. There was a clear understanding that certain places weren’t to be publicly disclosed.
What surprised me most was how stoked the locals were to have someone shooting them. At one spot, a local told me he’d surfed the wave his entire life but had never had a water shot there. He was so keen to get the photos.
After sessions like these, my inbox would flood with locals asking for their clips. As a first-timer, I was all about connecting with the community and styling them out with their shots. It immediately created friendships. I’d see these guys later that evening at a restaurant or bar, and they’d be buying me drinks and thanking me for the photos.
I felt like I was gradually being accepted into the community—not just as someone taking something from the place, but giving something back.
There was even a specific protocol around sending shots. At one hush-hush spot, my local friend told me I had to send the head honcho all his shots before sending anything to the other locals. Respect gets respect, period.
You were shooting photos and making a film. Were there any themes you found yourself drawn to?
The first thing that blew my mind was the natural beauty and landscapes of French Polynesia. I’ve travelled to some incredibly beautiful places, but I’d never experienced tropical epicness on this scale.
I was immediately drawn to the mountains, valleys, lush vegetation and vast ocean.
And then there’s the water. The colours. WTF. There are so many shades of blue across the lagoons and outer reefs, and the clarity is unlike anything I’d seen. Combine that with the thriving reefs, quality waves and surrounding landscape, and you’ve got a photographer’s goldmine.
One of the main reasons I’d dreamt of visiting French Polynesia for more than a decade was the water clarity. Shots from Ben Thouard had been imprinted in my brain since I bought my first water housing. Finally getting there and having all those swells line up was mind-blowing. It didn’t just live up to my expectations—it far exceeded them.
When travelling to Tahiti as a surfer, what should one be mindful of?
Because Tahiti only gets around 250,000 tourists a year, there’s a real sensitivity around tourism and how visitors interact with the island. Most tourists are honeymooners, couples and older travellers, so surfers are a smaller subgroup with a few things to consider.
As surfers, we’re all chasing a scarce resource. But surfing can also connect people who wouldn’t normally cross paths. I remember talking with Tahitian surfers about my experiences living in Indonesia. They know they have incredible waves, but they’re also eager to explore other places and surf different waves.
Rather than treating me as an outsider, they showed genuine respect because they saw me as another person, not just a tourist.
Another factor is the number of people sailing through French Polynesia, anchoring their boats and surfing before heading back to them. There’s a feeling that some people are taking more than they’re giving. If you arrive by dinghy, that can be associated with coming from a sailboat, which can create prejudice given the sensitivity around yachts.
The biggest thing is to be conscious of how you enter a place. Don’t just show up, surf and leave. Take time to understand the culture, respect the people and waves, and try to contribute something positive to the community.
When people think Tahiti, they think Teahupo’o. But the region has a lot more to offer if you are willing to look around?
Absolutely. And it’s not just Tahiti. There are so many other islands across French Polynesia, with an enormous variety of waves and environments.
Teahupo’o is obviously a global draw. Because it’s isolated at the end of the road on Tahiti’s southwest coast, it’s easy to build an entire surf trip around that one wave: get a taxi, stay in the village, surf Teahupo’o, eat poisson cru and leave.
With the cost of rental cars, limited local knowledge, the amount of driving and massive paddle-outs to unknown waves, it’s easy to understand why people don’t explore more.
But if you make the effort to connect with locals, give yourself time and seek out adventure, it can pay serious dividends.
Would you recommend getting a car? Boat?
If you want to chase other waves and potentially surf without crowds, having a car is vital. More importantly, make friends with locals who can help. It’s not an easy place to figure out purely from a forecast.
As for boats, Teahupo’o is easy. There are plenty of boat taxis, so you can pay to get to the wave and avoid the kilometre-plus paddle each way.
It’s a different story at other waves. There often isn’t an option to pay someone to take you to an outer pass. You have to paddle out and earn it.
I did find one interesting exception on another island. There was a wave about 1.5km offshore where an expat had created a kayak rental service. You’d kayak out, anchor it, leave it while you surfed, then row back in afterwards. I thought it was brilliant, especially from an eco-conscious perspective.
Can you get by on a budget or is it expensive all round?
It’s expensive. Getting there, accommodation and food all cost a lot, so it’s generally not a cheap destination.
One thing that surprised me was how much food is imported. You look around at these incredibly lush islands and assume there would be plenty of inexpensive local food, but they rely heavily on imports, which makes eating there surprisingly expensive.
That said, there are cheaper options, and the big win was ahi tuna. I basically lived off it for the entire month.
Best meal you ate and where?
Chez Anita, without question. It’s on the northwest side of Tahiti and started as a food truck before expanding into a larger dining area right on the water.
The prices were still food-truck cheap, with huge portions. I ordered the steak and poisson cru mixed plate. Poisson cru is raw ahi tuna marinated in coconut milk with vegetables and garnishes, and it’s a staple of French Polynesian cuisine.
I’m a steak guy, so putting a big steak together with poisson cru and taro au gratin was absolutely bangin’. Then you finish with their guava tart. Out of this world.
Full French influence with Tahitian flair. Chez Anita: just take my money. I miss you.
You went for a month? Does that allow you to go slower? Immerse yourself in the culture and look around? A different mindset to the Teahupo’o strike mission?
It absolutely allowed me to slow down and immerse myself in the culture. There’s so much to learn about their history and how life operates on these islands.
I loved having downtime between swells to explore. I’d go to the Sunday morning market, eat incredible food and learn about the history behind the culture. I remember wondering, “How is there so much amazing Chinese food here?” Then you learn about the island’s wartime history and why there’s such a substantial Chinese population.
It also gave me time for cultural activities, like sailing a traditional va’a and learning about the Tahitian connection to the ocean, tides, seasons and water.
I could drive around the island, visit places popular with local families and see how they interact with the ocean, beaches and nature rather than shopping malls, cinemas and screens.
I wish I could have stayed much longer and visited more islands. That’s the only way to truly connect with a new place and understand it.
You’ve watched a million clips of Teahupo’o before arriving. What struck you or surprised you or was different from what you may have imagined?
Teahupo’o is a marvel and an absolute beast. I was surprised more people don’t get completely broken off. Having watched people fall onto shallow reef around the world, I can’t believe more people aren’t dead or hospitalised given the power and ledging of that wave onto the reef.
But beyond the wave itself, the environment blew me away. Everyone has seen the imagery, but when you’re actually there, feeling the mana, surrounded by those mountains and the sound of waves that thunder and rattle you to your core, it’s something else.
It’s the most powerful combination of surf and landscape I’ve ever experienced. Being out there and feeling that is life-changing.
How does the balance between the locals and the influx of free surfers work in a swell?
Respect gets respect. It’s such a strong value within their culture. They show outsiders respect on land and in the water, as long as you show the same.
There’s a tradition of paddling out and shaking each person’s hand when you join the lineup. It immediately creates a sense of respect and connection rather than simply sitting shoulder-to-shoulder.
As you explore more unknown waves, that value becomes even more important. There can be much greater sensitivity towards outsiders in certain places, and the stories I’ve heard can be horrific if you don’t understand where you are or your limitations.
It’s not to be taken lightly. But if you approach it correctly, you can also make some of the easiest connections with surfers from around the world.
Can you think of an anecdote or experience, or encounter that says something about the Tahiti experience?
There was a French-style bakery near where I was staying that I started visiting regularly. It was incredible—every French baked good, tart, cookie, sandwich and quiche you could imagine.
After about a week, I ordered an almond croissant and the woman put three in the bag. I looked at her and said, “No, no, I only ordered one.”
She just blinked, smiled and nodded.
That small act of generosity really touched me. It wasn’t the only generosity I experienced, but it stuck with me.
I’d arrived as an outsider, probably looking like a bit of a weirdo with my fair skin, shaved head and beard. But that little gesture made me feel, even in a small way, like I belonged there.
