"Walking on a dream."

Evening had long since fallen in the Highlands of Scotland as day was dawning in the feted west of Australia. A land where fine wine flows through creeks and every edifice is imbued with indigenous culture and doubtless edible and delicious to boot.

Western Australia is a veritable Wonka land, a point hammered by the WSL every time the Tour stops here.

But we don’t care about that, we care about waves. This morning, there were some. For the first few heats at least, before the wind cast its raggedy spell and ruined it for everyone.

The unlikely figures of Barron Mamiya and Yago Dora were eliminated, owing to equally unlikely strong performances from Reef Heazlewood and Kelly Slater.

For Dora, this season has been nothing less than a shocker. Just above the cut line and with four men below him still in the event, it’s almost certain he’s gone. Given he was a perennial top five threat last season, he will be a loss.

Not so much of a loss is Tour whipping boy Deivid Silva, dead last in the rankings. Ironically, his death spasms today resulted in by far his strongest performances of the season in back-to-back heats in which he didn’t even get the chance to leave the water.

He ran John Florence close in the first heat of the round of 32, notching a pair of mid-eights for critical backhand surfing that I’d entirely forgotten he was capable of. But too late were his gasps for life, and he will only be missed by the high seeds who drew him.

Florence had a pair of eights of his own, showing glimpses of the Margaret River mastery for which he’s so lauded.

“Finally, there’s waves, I can just go surf”, said Florence, with exasperation we all feel on his behalf.

But the waves were to peter out before long. First came the lulls, then came the wind.

Gabriel Medina was able to dispatch Ryan Callinan without looking quite like his assured self. Both sat for five minutes or more to end the heat, with Callinan unable to attempt a wave. A dire way to go.

Medina vs Florence in the round of 16 is a marquee match-up that should recall previous tussles here where each traded nines amidst consistent, solid walls. Post heat, Medina, like Florence, expressed his wish for waves. But the reality of the forecast means this meeting will likely have all the shine of spoiled fruit.

Another intriguing heat in the round of 16 is the meeting of the Pupo brothers. There can be no familial favours in this one. Both men are below the cut line, both need a win to assure their future.

The future, and the past, was very much a theme of today. It was centred, as pro surfing so often has been, around Kelly Slater. Even if the day had the air of a retirement he hadn’t quite agreed to.

His elimination heat was like an obituary. Ronnie and Richie eulogised throughout, as all the pundits do. But there was a tone of finality this time, a wrapping up rather than a remembrance.

In the water, oblivious, Slater was undeterred. He attacked the heat early, and with the verve of a much younger man, notching a 7.17 for searing carves and backing up with a mid-five. It was nearly enough to win the heat, but he was pipped by rookie Cole Houshmand, advancing nevertheless in second position and sending Yago Dora home for good.

In his first post-heat interview of the day he was all business, giving a surgical breakdown of who did what and when. Retirement? What retirement? It was the ghost in the room.

But after crashing back to earth with a lacklustre loss to Griffin Colapinto in the gathering breeze, Slater was forced to confront the pallbearers waiting at the shoreline.

He was hoisted high and chaired up the beach, but there was something discomforting about it. I couldn’t escape the overwhelming sense that Slater, although gracious, had gritted teeth.

They were taking grandad out for a nice lunch. And oh, should we just pop in here for a look on the way back? isn’t this a lovely place? Aren’t these people friendly? Look, your own room with a big red cord to pull if you need to! Perhaps you could stay awhile?

We’ll just be down the road, of course. A million miles away.

Yet Slater rallied in the post heat interview with Stace Galbraith. He was still fighting, still breaking down the heat and what went wrong. He’d had a fight with this wave his whole career, he said. It wasn’t a wave he wanted to end on. And oh, he’s applied for a wildcard for Fiji, and Renato asked him if he fancied surfing on the Gold Coast CS event, too. He might if Snapper looked good, just for some fun.

But when Galbraith asked him if he had a personal message for friends and family, there was a heavy pause.

Slater welled up, fought back tears he wasn’t ready to spill.

It wasn’t all roses, he said.

We understood the subtext. The things that must be sacrificed at the altar of mastery.

And then the moment passed and he was back to talking about pro surfing again, looking to heats present and future. He still had that hope out there, he said.

But I felt for him then. He was a man forced, finally, to confront the hard realities of time and change. His was a life rooted in pro surfing. Yes, a life of objective privilege, but the only one he’s known. And the only life you know is still the hardest to let go. Winning surf competitions has been the nucleus around which all else has hovered.

“If I get a wildcard or two I could end up against Griffin again. I’ll pay him back.”

It was tongue-in-cheek, but also dead serious. He was still looking to a future in a vest, not away from it. Not entirely.

He was right. This isn’t how it ends. Not being chaired up the beach after losing in wind-blown three-footers at Main Break.

The universe has been kind to him, as he acknowledged. He’s had a lot of luck. And I sense it’s not quite over. It might not be this year, maybe not even the next. And he won’t top a podium. But I’m sure we’ll see Slater win once more, even if it’s just a heat.

It will be in Fiji, or Teahupo’o or Pipe. The barrels will be thick and beautifully terrifying, and Kelly Slater will stand in the centre of one, calm amidst the chaos

He will draw into the charred wreck of himself once more.

And he will win again.

And then it’ll be over.