Did you ever see ‘Memento’?  The movie kind of starts at the end of the story and, yeah, you probably didn’t.  I am in the United States right now and it sucks.  My job is requiring that I work, the water is cold and dirty, it is windy and still rainy, there is no surf and even if there was, I hurt my leg so it would do me no good.  I also noticed that the proletariat didn’t rise up and overthrow the ruling, white-collar criminal class.  Why am I so bitter (at this particular moment) and why should you continue reading instead of going back to your internet porn?  It is all about contrast.

I hadn’t been on a vacation in quite a while.  My wave-o-riffic trip to the north shore of Oahu in December didn’t count because it was for a chemistry conference in Waikiki.  (www.pacifichem.org) People say our greatest fear is public speaking.  This is a feeble attempt to be cute and inaccurate.  Our real fear is the fear of change.  Public speaking is simply a subset of the greater fear.  In any event, I overcame this fear of change and enlisted in my first authentic surf trip in quite a while.  Destination:  Mexico!  Being from the United States, I pulled out an atlas and quickly found that Mexico is our nearest neighbor to the south and possessed miles of swell-attracting coastline.  I knew that.  It was a cheap shot at the 18% in a National Geographic survey who couldn’t find the U$A on a map of the world.

The crew for this junket consisted of Scott on a longboard, Sam on the quad fish, Stephanie ‘The Girl’ on the thruster and I on my trusty, custom Toobs board.  The plan was to fly down to Zihuatanejo then drive to a left hand pointbreak called Saladita.  I was hesitant at first because the break was more appropriate for a longboard than a bodyboard.  But, I really needed to get out of town to maintain my fleeting sanity.  And Stephanie insisted.  I am such a sucker for that kind of crap.  She wanted me to go so she would have a partner in the hunt for faster waves. After pausing for irony and then doing some research, it turns out that there are other breaks nearby that dealt out a bit more pain so I committed. 

Packing for me was a snap since my board is essentially made of packing material.  The $125 I saved by not bringing my fish could be spent renting a longboard if I needed.  After some heated haggling at the rental car stand, we were on our way into town to stock up on food, water and necessities like beer and tequila.  I had no luck finding the switchblade or fireworks stand in el Mercado so I had to settle on some big papayas.  I was stressed about driving and like clockwork, it got dark as soon as we hit the highway.  I figured that I would drive and Sam would navigate since he had been here before.  No luck.  After a few wrong turns with everyone drinking beers and having a great time, except for me, we pull over and ask for directions. As luck would have it, we stopped right at the turn off.  Apart from me not being drunk enough to enjoy the drive, this stroke of luck set the stage for the rest of the trip.  At this point in the story, if you need to get going (Read: more internet porn) let me summarize:  We SCORED.

We get to the end of the road and are giddy with the thought of no longer having to travel.  I have some catching-up to do in the booze department so I get busy.  We rented a house at the base of a 300 meter left hand point break and have just entered the leisure zone.  We could call it ‘Rancho Relaxo’.  I made a mental list of goals for the trip because I like to be goal-oriented or proactive or whatever.  It is good to have goals and realistic expectations. To avoid disappointment, I set my goals and standards near rock bottom.  I was there to chill, sit in warm water, avoid jail, rip-offs, back injuries and food poisoning, get some waves and put my feet up for an 8 day snickerfest.  By the end of the trip, every box got a check mark. 

Since it was dark when we arrived, we couldn’t see the surf so the first morning was like Christmas in March.  We got up pre-dawn and saw some fun little burgers at the point.  We were on it on principle and had a fine time at our new spot.  At this small size, the sponge was not the call.  I wished I had my fish, but I made the most of it, even managing to get a cover up.  Getting in and out of the water looked trivial but was made more interesting by the stingray factor.  Here we were shuffling our feet beginning on dry sand while the small children played inshore, ready to learn the true meaning of white hot pain. 

The next day the surf picked up and never looked back.  In the process, our half-ass research around the dinner tables uncovered the locations of some other spots about 45 minutes up the coast.  I was keen to kick things up a notch so we went for it.  Our directions were weak but we used ‘The Force’ and found ourselves at a 3 way fork in the road.  The middle one faced the ocean but had a gate.  Standing there next to the gate strategizing, a big truck pulls up behind us.  Ready for the standard angry man with a big mouth to yell at us, we are pleasantly surprised by a nice man with a big mouth.  He tells us where to go and we take his advice and proceed.  Turns out the gate is just to keep cows in and not you out.  We get to where we can see the ocean and the road has another fork.  The one that goes towards the ocean is, in my opinion, 4WD only.  Despite the protestations from the peanut gallery, I choose the more prudent way.  We promptly bottom out rushing the dry creek bed but nothing breaks and we are golden.  This turns out to be our commute for 3 more days.  The waves are absolutely going nuts.  About a good 250-300m offshore and offshore, pushing double overhead and perfect.  The peak breaks right and rushes for about 200 m on a good one.  The left is an illusion, including the faux paddling channel.  I jump in and start charging out, just in time to unjoy a 10 wave set on the head in my non-channel.  The Girl is close behind and we get some good ones.  The ride is an easy take off that then walls up and starts to fly.  You just go as fast as you can and set up for the tube section way inside.  There is one guy camping and it is essentially him and I sharing waves and cheering on the girl.  After scoring this place day after day with no one out, I conclude it is a secret spot and stay the f**k away.  Waiting on the beach were the best fish tacos I found too.  Actually, everyone I talked to knew where it was but for some reason preferred to surf with dozens of their best friends.  No argument here…

On two other sessions, we surfed the point to the south called El Rancho.  So I fly all this way from Santa Barbara to still have to drive 45 minutes to surf ‘The Ranch’.  I seem to recall the American version of The Ranch as much less crowded.  One session was pretty fun, but being the only sponger out there, and getting set waves, made for some upset. On the second session, idiots were attempting to burn me on every 3rd wave.  Pretty lame especially since I knew the secret spot up the way was unloading on nobody’s head.  On the way back Sam teaches me the proper way to do an e-brake slide with the rental car.  The key is to shift into Neutral.  On the way back we stop to visit the “Chicken Lady”.  For $8, 4 of us got the best chicken tacos with all the fixins.  On the 3rd visit or so, there was this decrepit cat with one eye slinking around.  Once it put its paws on the table and the Chicken Lady hissed at it and chased it away by paddling its ass with a spatula.  That would be the same spatula that she was using to flip the chicken on the grill.  We all shuddered.

The middle of the day, starting when we got back to the crib til we went for session #2 out front, was ‘happy hour’.  The beer was always crap but the tequila was quite nice.  On one fine afternoon, I reminded the Girl about the metallic gold bathing suit she brought for the trip.  I proposed a photo shoot and she was into it.  After some tequila shots for courage, she went from traditional poses to writhing in the wet sand.  (I’ll send them to you for a dollar.)  The next day she put on a nice blue bonnet to compliment her gold suit and paddled out into the line-up.  I did too to record the gossip but everyone must have been high or too terrified to say anything.  Back at the house, the local dog had our full attention and was chilling out.  We practiced our balancing skills by balancing empty beer cans on the passed out dog, as this is what would happen to any of us in this situation.

On the last day or so, the Girl and I head back to our secret spot for another go.  We are doing pretty well since we have been scoring there so much.  Towards the end of the session she catches one in.  Being out that far by myself started to spook me so I caught one in on the left.  I was flying along and prepared to blast off an oncoming section.  At the last second it mushed and I did a hard dolphin kick to pop over it.  A sharp pain went down my leg and took the starch out of me.  I got up the steep cobble stone beach and out of water and collapsed out of fatigue, pain and fake drama to impress the Girl.  Just a pulled muscle I figured.  Nothing some tequila can’t fix.  Later at the airport we are embarrassingly early for our flight so we grab some beers.  By #2 I realize that I really didn’t eat much as I stumble over to get some food.  I am essentially as drunk as I have been the whole trip.  I get my game face on and have some more and bid a sad farewell to Zihuatenajo. The trip is a surgical strike and complete success.  The plane flies higher and higher as the points, bays and beaches fade into the haze and twilight.  My spinning head wedges between the seat and the wall for a short 3 hour nap.

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