How many times have I pulled up to the rock bluff overlooking the miles of raw coastline that contain my most frequented surf breaks. I pull out the binoculars to scout for waves and for crowds (or lack thereof). Only to find small waves and large crowds. Crushed enthusiasm, I say ferck it and head back home. I’m definitely guilty of embracing the skunk.
Things are different when you travel 1000 miles on an airplane for a surf trip. You take stock of the local swell report and choose your spot for the day wisely, but once you’re there in those strange waters, you can’t turn back. There’s no going home. You must find the glide. Every spot at every size, has a glide, a sweet spot, waiting for you to find it. Sometimes it takes a longboard. Sometimes it’s the thigh-high walled up inner section with the slow crouching thirty-foot ride. Sometimes it’s a kooked-out drop into the closing tube going the wrong direction. Whatever the conditions may be, the glide is there, somewhere, maybe not in plain view, maybe hidden away, but it’s most certainly there. You just have to look for it.
The Oregon/Nayarit surf blog bro-down extravaganza ended today with a drive up the coast to “Rio Bonito”, a juicy, sand-bottomed river mouth break, right around the corner from freakin’ nowhere. As the roles reversed, it was this intrepid Oregon crew who showed me, the itinerant Mexico rustaboot, a new spot. I don’t know how the hell these guys found their way to this little jammy, but believe me I know how to get back here. We caught the joint on a pretty mellow day, mostly closeout waist high, with an occasional head-high thumper. I dropped in on a few, with seconds of glide, ledge overhead to punch out the back and a few pearls as the singlefin kicked out from the steep angled drop. Even at small, closeout sizes, the waves were walled up nicely from the water exiting the river.
Rio Bonito wasn’t exactly firing, an epic day it wasn’t, but we all tried to get a little something. You can tell, though, that this spot gets huge, breaking in long flowing lines from both sides of the river mouth. Luckily Rick, Gabe and Ean have two more days to soldier on and with hints of incoming swell, hopefully they’ll be running to the plane on Saturday with wet swim trunks.
Marcia and I are headed up to Guadalajara for the weekend. And as per usual, that means a nice big swell should be rolling through. Ah the irony.
Rick, the SissyfisherKing is currently down mexicoway with his homies Gabe and Ean. We connected up Monday night for some wicked Chilés Rellenos + chelas with the ladies and little ones (ours being still in seedling format). Dinner was civil and restrained. After grub, the boys retired to the livingroom for a full on bro-down nerd fest, as we talked blog-related schmata and plotted the next day’s surf activities while I heavy-petted and studiously-vetted the various surf vehicles the crew had slogged all the way down here from Oregon. Rick’s MCaro-shaped round-pin quad was pretty amazing in and out of the water. Drop in, set the rail and hum. dialed.
Tuesday morning we reconvened for a dawn patrol sliding session at my favoritest rocky left point break La Chuleta. Afuckingmazing, as usual. That place is blessed with serious surf/stoke/prana. We all got in some quality slide time. I took an hour or so out to snap some jammies from the boat. These are two of my favs, not intentionally out-of-focus, but what are commonly referred to as “happy accidents”.
Dylan Southworth is a Sayulita local who’s starting to come up, nationally. Definitely on some Kelly Slater sea legs style but with the out-of-water flare of Andy Irons. The kid is good and at 18 years old, he’s got some serious mindshare, exactly the kinda thing brands are looking for.
I’m hoping to catch up with him for a session one of these days.
Wednesday night. I wake to huge crashers, rumbling me from my sleep. Incoming swell. Nice. I wake Thursday morning to no sounds of crashing waves, silence, odd. Prepare my morning coffee and right to work. 11am, my sister Beth calls me up and says that there are three meter waves and Tzahui Poo wants to meet up at “Holi” to take some photos. Holiday Inn (or Holi, for short) breaks far inside the bay towards Vallarta and this spot is usually reserved for when the size of a swell is so large that the outer bay spots all crap out from heavy currents and un-groomed waves.
I grab the camera and the board and I’m ghost. 20 minutes later, almost there, I get a call from Beth saying that Holi is starting to crap out from the wind, Tzahui is heading for “Velas” (or as I’m calling it “Portofino”, as there’s actually two different breaks at this spot). Portofino is the breaker of boards, a wicked dumping, open barrel, shore break. The higher the tide, the closer to shore, the deadlier the barrel. 80% of all rides end in closed out revolcadas, washing machine-like whirling dervishes of pressure, water, foam and sand. and you’re the clothing. Double overhead? No way. As my primary directive is to surf, I head back up to the north bay where I hear Birri and Ro are at Veneros. I make a u-turn.
30 Minutes later, from the cliff above Destiladeras, standing on the roof of my truck with binoculars (8×65), I can see the entire north bay looks like the north shore of Hawaii. Overhead and double overhead everywhere. Spots breaking two and three times farther out than usual. Waves breaking in mile long chains. Beth has called to tell me that Birri had to leave Veneros because the waves were too big. Too big?! I hear that a gem of a hidden break is going off, I’ll call it “La Puntilla”, a beautiful right, long ride and up until now I’ve never seen it breaking. It has near-legendary status. Birri’s there now and it’s overhead. I make another u-turn.
I pull up to the parking area for La Puntilla, just as Phil is driving out. We smile and each roll down our windows. I ask him how the swell is: “Man, I’ve been here since 7am. We had the break to ourselves for hours. Double overhead. My arms are spaghetti. 15 güeys just got here and the swell is starting to fall and the wind is coming up. Better get yours quick.”, paraphrased. We exchange shakas. I park and walk my gear to the beach to see a right break, head high and the left break on the far side about the same. I grab the camera and snap off a few captures. Birri is killing it, but the lineup is crowded. I’ve come to surf, so I grab the gear hit the car and do another u-turn.
With board in hand (camera back at the car) I walk out on to Destiladeras beach to see overhead waves lined up like jossling hordes of antsy teenagers. Veneros is unsurfable. Dinosaurs is overhead+ with maybe eight people out, half just sitting on the shoulder rolling up and over the freight trains coming though the lineup. My lower back is a ball of nerves. I recite an internal ohm relaxification ritual as I gear up and try to make it out past the thrashing shore break. The whipping current wants to put me right into the gapping maw of overhead shore dump. I paddle out to the lineup not facing out to sea, rather facing north, parallel to the beach, it takes me 20 minutes.
The lineup is farther out than I have ever seen it. I sit with the other gawkers on the shoulder, trying to come to peace with the virulent dodgy walled up sets coming through. They’re fast, vertical and open. You can fit a vw inside most. The lip is heavy. My lower back still courses with stress, I can’t seem to be able to relax, never a good sign for potentially being caught on the inside of large sets. In order to handle the white water you have to be relaxed and in control. Stress and anxiety drop your ability to hold your breath by several orders of magnitude. I focus on my breathing and try to enjoy the experience. Jason drops in on the first peak. Not fast enough to make it down the line, I drop in on the second peak. The potato chip 6′0″ shortboard keeps me too far down in the water and I drop in late. I fall out of the wave, drop four feet or so and catch the wall and I’m off, done the line. The steepest and fastest wave I’ve ever ridden, by far. I ride it surly wave to within a hundred yards of the beach. I turn around and look at the lineup. My back aches with stress. I make another u-turn, maybe another day…
I’m off to homebase, Burros, the headquarters. Overhead unruly sets are best served at a place I know intimately well. I arrive to the beach, to see nothing. nothing?! Blown out knee-high slop. No one in the water. what gives? Once again I do a u-turn.
La Puntilla it is, I should never have doubted you. As I walk out on to the beach, the lineup is almost gone. Two guys in the water and the sets at about shoulder level. Lots of onshore wind muddy up the already un-groomed lines. This is my first time surfing La Puntilla and with a vacant lineup, I enjoy every second of it. A classic rocky point break, when you’re firing, you probably give Malibu a run for its money. Lots of nice long flowing lines and soft carves (I leave the snaps to the local yokels). The spot has three sections and if you can make all three, maybe you can avoid the rocky edge. I worked on the tail stall and sitting on the foam ball, then down the line, sweet little weaving and in to the next section. I’m so glad you could make it, La Puntilla, a new friend. Later Thursday, we all get together to talk story. We all have stories to tell about the day.
Friday 8am, up to Veneros and Dinosaurs. less than a meter and no dice. I know there must be swell some place else, so I head back to town. I put in a call to Tzahui, he’s at Portofino with Chicharro and posse. It’s overhead. I grab the camera on the way down. A half-hour later I’m walking down the beach. It’s definitely overhead and heavy. When I get to the first rock jetty I can see hollow tubes and several shortboarders taking advantage of them. I drop the gear and grab the camera. The break is 50 yards from dry beach. Maybe less. The waves are ridiculously heavy and everyone does their best to show off for the camera. Only natural. I shoot for hours, luckily I brought the mono-pod. Lifesaver. I shoot 90º to the wave then 45º from both sides. good stuff. But then I get the bright idea to shoot from the rock jetty that juts out to the breaking section. The 100-400mm lens comes in handy here and although the scene is wide, the angle really helps capture the grandiosity of the swell. I kick myself that I chose to pursue surfing, the day before, instead of coming to this very same spot, which Tzahui says was easily twice as large.
The problem with being a surfer who also takes photos, is that the photography jones, more often than not, loses out to the surfing jones. It’s just a fact.
By the time I was done shooting, Friday, I was burnt to a crisp and in dire need of sustenance (monge). I snapped a few photos of Tzahui and Chicharro as they finally dragged themselves out of the water, packed up my gear and hit the road. Two full days of insane swell chasing. The first day tied to a board, the second tied to a camera. As it should be.
Hot on the tail of this past week’s Tropical Storm Douglas (pics/story coming soonish), which saw double overhead swell hit on Thursday, we have another storm coming up the coast. Scheduled to hit sometime this coming Thursday, Tropical Depression FIVE-E must be NOAA’s inside joke / hat tip to the awesomeness that is WALL-E (if you haven’t seen it already, drop your Skil saw 100 and rush to the nearest movie theater). It’s still a bit early in the week to know exactly what kind of swell we’re going to get. Wet Sand is calling it at 24 feet (which will most certainly come down as the week progresses), Wave Watch calls it at 16 secs. and Surfline doesn’t even show anything, which is funky cuz they didn’t show Douglas either (um, em, *tink *tink, is this thing on?).
Word of impending swell had us out at The Usual, on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Four sessions in three days. No real swell to be had, but some occasional head high waves with way too much time in between proper sets. Saturday morning’s session was remarkable for it’s small but powerful waves with rides lasting almost right to the beach. I had several memorably floaters and a nice carve or three, the singlefin was in fine form. Sometimes it’s as if the board calls to me to ride it in different ways (as opposed to the regular thruster stance). Feet moving all over the board, feet together - sideways or face forward, crouched stance, hand on the rail. This board has stories to tell.
I awoke on Sunday to little bombs hitting the beach and I knew our phantom swell had arrived, most likely stopping in to Michoacan for a coffee break and chilaquiles and then heading on up the coast, two days late. I headed to La Virgen to find 5 foot backs and off-shore winds. La Virgen’s mushy rollers sometimes lead to nowhere waves - they crash overhead and seconds later you find yourself riding a shoulder with no foam ball. Others lead to wide-open faces of rolling water. I had a bit of both. It was nice to get the singlefin in to overhead conditions, total champ. The left was firing.
John from Vintage Cotton has been in town since the middle of last week, and he’s been joining me on our daily forays. It was nice to have some decent swell come in, so that he could have a taste of how good this area can be. But truth-be-told, he was happy with the solid 2-3 footers at The Usual and their long trimmed out lines. John brought down a gang of shirts for us locals and me and the homies are very thankful for the hook up. You wouldn’t believe how far good schwag hookups go down here. Thanks John.
John was out on Sunday with me for the nice swell and I had to cut my session a little short as my stomach started acting up. I thought it might be from a bad mix of chelas and sangrias the night before, but by the time I got to the house, I had full blown chorrillo. and I was knocked out for the rest of Sunday in a hazed stupor, as whatever bug I had ran through my system every 15 minutes, all day long.
Today, there’s still some leftover swell and Pato just called to drag me out to La Alberca. But I’m still weak from yesterday’s war and I still feel like an alien just hatched out of my abdomen, so I’m taken ‘er easy.
A friend of mine has started a local civil association, here in Nayarit, called “Caminos Al Mar”. Literally translated it means “Roads to the Sea” and he took this name for the group, as all of the access roads and paths to the places we surf are all being closed off, one by one. The groups stated goals are to work directly with governments, municipalities, developers and other civil associations to maintain and ensure proper access to beaches for everyone; beach and surf break protection; clean water initiatives and education on conservation/environmental issues.
To make a long story short Nayarit and Jalisco are both going through massive development. All development is supposed to be under the control and direction of the urban planning wings of local municipalities. Unlike places like the United States, Mexico’s constitution explicitly states that beaches are the property of the people and that access to beaches can not be denied. This is exactly what’s happening to large stretches of coast that up until now, have been largely undeveloped.
front
This friend asked me to create a tshirt design promoting the group and this is the result. I had to distill the groups message into something as (relatively) simple as possible. The “Save The Waves” / “Salvar Las Olas” message seemed to work and he gave me the tagline “Seamos realistas, lo pidamos lo imposible” (We are realists, we ask the impossible).
back
The association’s logomark is respectfully borrowed from the Huichol symbol for the Ojo de Dios (God’s eye), Birri came up with that inspired thought. and the tagline means “supporting the rights of surfers in México”.
I respect my elders. There’s always two or three ‘Old Guy’ longboarders out in the lineup. If you’re over 60 and still in the water on a regular basis and you have the conditioning to be able to catch Burros’ slow, mushy waist high donkey waves, then you gotta be doing something right. Most of these guys have probably been surfing longer than I’ve been alive. And they’re often salty/sweet and filled with smart quips and good stories. Old Guys help contrast the local groms and their lack of basic surf etiquette and rules.
A few days ago, I was out surfing the chest-high peelers coming in at the beginning of a recent swell. There were a few Old Guys (OGs) in the lineup, every one getting their fair share of righteous slippage.
I’d just gotten a nice ride and was paddling back out to the lineup. Old Guy#1 drops in on a broad-faced peeler. Old Guy#2 drops in on OG#1 (obviously not on a trip together). OG#2 has several looks at OG#1 and with about 15 feet between them, OG#2 decides to stay on the wave. Both working their way down the line. Without special legwork or grace, OG#2 isn’t exactly an “arbiter of style”. Just some schmoe who won’t get off someone else’s wave. OG#1 is making the ‘mush’ face.
As they come toward me, I’m assuming OG#2 will get off at some point and I will safely move over the shoulder before OG#1 rides the crest by. OG#2 in a jenky manner decides to keep riding the shoulder, over me, instead of ducking off or riding the face down and around me. Just before he makes it over, a second peak forms and pushes his board down the face a bit and he misses me by a few feet. In a parallel dimension, his board hits me directly in the head and splits my forehead open and I received 24 stitches*. OG#1 is still making faces and wondering what this guy is doing on his wave.
On his paddle back out, I lean over my shoulder and say to OG#2 that he should be more careful and that he almost creamed me in the face. OG#2 stutters a bit, with internal indecision on how to handle the situation, a second later he gets all red in the face and says to me “You have got to be fucking kidding me?!”. I toss an unbelieving grin his way and casually say “Fine, be that way” and continue on with my paddle back to the lineup.
Now this is the rub: This guy had two choices. He could take the tack he took, or he could be civil, acknowledge his wave theft and near fuck-up. His option is the nuclear option and never begets friends. The second option would most surely reward him with a smile and respect. OG#2 chose the wrong option. And by choosing the wrong option, he fucked up in three ways, in a matter of seconds:
1. He dropped in on someone else’s wave
2. He almost creamed me in the face
3. He didn’t have the balls to acknowledge his bad judgement.
Incidents like this happen all the time. The differences is how you choose to deal with them. We all make mistakes and I’m sure this guy, deep down, wanted a way to say sorry in some little way, after all that ‘confrontation adrenaline’ wore off, but his first reaction kinda fucked up the vibe in the water. I’ve done this before, I’m sure everyone has.
If there’s a message here, it’s that regardless of age, we can all learn a thing or two. Rules aren’t arbitrary and try not to be an asshole, unless someone egregiously drops in your wave, than you can be a jerk.
– * this actually happened to my good friend Julietta, a few months ago, surfing the very same spot, in very similar conditions.
8:30am to the lineup, rumors of clean, head-highs yesterday morning. not quite as big, today, but clean, long and mellow. getting to the beach is a bitch but once in the water, all is right with the world. the red egg contrasts to the grey, june gloom. it’s the rainy season. unexpectedly cold and rainy for 3 days straight. nice big rollers though make it all worth while. young grom cuts in on my dance. that’s ok, just don’t do it again. if i had one complaint about the junod, it’s that it’s not big enough but so smooth. I’m beginning to get a feel for the rails on nice swooping carves. and watching that back leg to feet together. work the deck. tomorrow am? same.
Case in point: stars aligned and we were lucky enough to be in LA for Maggie Marsek’s show at Shelter Surf Shop. I’m lying a wee bit, Maggie’s show was actually a large impetus for the timing of our trip. It was wonderful seeing her photos up-close and personal. Large, yummy prints made from real film. And it was equally awesome to finally meet up with Maggie and her man Rob (70 Percent.org). Rob and I have been talking back and forth, across the internet tubes, for a few years now and it was super nice to put a smile and a face to the legend.
Along with Maggie’s work, I was fortunate enough to meet Ryan Tatar (Shakas and Singlefins) and to peep his photographic work that coincidentally is also hanging in Shelter. I’ve written about Ryan’s work before.
I have to give it up to Graham at Shelter for being such an ardent supporter of local surf photogs. It’s easy to rely on established talent to coat the walls of your shop, but Graham is really pushing the edge. Finding new, untapped talent and giving them a podium to show their stuff. keep it up Graham!
To top off a very very cool night, I got to meet JP of Moonlight Glassing and Surfy Surfy fame. He is one of the most down to earth, humble cats I’ve ever met. Heart of gold. I resisted the urge to (over-enthusiastically) get him to sign my tshirt. I know the boards he glasses are shaped by other people, but his work is truly a work of art. Reading Surfy Surfy, seeing a visual diary of all the new boards coming through his family’s shop, coming in as shaped foam and leaving as pieces of realized art. It’s a daily education on classical surf craft form.
It was super nice to meet all these people from the surf blogosphere, putting faces to blog header graphics. Living in a small mexican town can be a wee bit isolating sometimes (offset by multiple uncrowded surf breaks) so it was nice to have a night of Tecates, photography and new friends all in the name of surf culture.
Thanks Maggie, Rob, Graham, Ryan and JP for a wicked night.
The swell is up! Yesterday, nice choppy mid-day session, the first on the new Junod singlefin. Today two sessions on a rising swell. 7am, one other surfer out in the water. taking turns dropping in on 5 foot crumblers. glassy, hazy and slight drizzle. puuuurfecto. The singlefin is clean and smooth.
3pm. different spot. Higher tide, 6-7 foot bomb double-peeks to mini-tubes. Again, super clean. Killer drop-in on first peek, back up a too little high, miss the second peek and fall down the face, on my face, full garage sale, white foam bath, to wooo-hooo! The singlefin is super smooth. note to self: wider stance, keep it low for the second peek scrunch mini-tube and gotta watch that rocker (or lack thereof) on the walled up sections, set the rail and huuumm!.
Sunday means crowded. understatement. Yet good swell means all smiles and shakabras.
We’re finally back in Nayarit, after a nice, semi-relaxing trip to the city of Lost Angels. We ate ridiculously too much good food and now it’s time for double surf/elliptical exercise sessions to wear down the newly enlarged spare tire. I took a ton of pics and one of these days I’ll get around to processing them. We met a ton of really cool people along the way which was surprising and unexpectedly awesome.
While in LA, I picked up a wicked dark cherry Michel Junod Pumpkin Seed 6′2″ Singlefin with glossy finish. Big thanks to Chad at Mollusk Venice / Gonz! for the killer advice, true to my earlier post it came down to the Junod and a 6′2″ Andreini Vaquero (both amazing pieces of surfcraft/art). I took a few pics of the new board, for posterity’s sake, before I futz it up with wax, sand, saltwater, southwesterlies, knee pressure dents and concrete-wall dings. Peep the pics.
Today, I woke up early (for no particular reason) and got to Burros at 7am in time for the sunrise. The tide was the lowest I’ve ever seen it, with most of the rock reef sticking out of the water for a hundred feet. The beach covered with brown, dead seaweed and foot deep pools of beige/brown foam. Whatever swell was coming through was being blown out by moderate winds and highly unusual currents. Lots of movement, nothing worth riding. I surveyed the beautiful (but ultimately futile) scene for a half hour or so. Some intrepid groms showed up and I watched them wallow around for 15 minutes, waveless, and then headed home.
It’s good to be back in orbit, but truth be told, I’m weary of NetNewsWire. I have it open, but trying to resist the urge to read all those unread feeds. Yes, checking surfing/mac/myfeeds/politics folders but staying away from everything else. Hopefully the wind will die down and I’ll be able to get in a good sunset slide on the new singlefin.
Montreal soul brother Stevey B. and his crew of surf derelicts blessed us Nayaritenses* with their presence for two weeks in May. Staying up in a fatty old hacienda in the colinas above Sayulita, I caught up with the mosse for several sliding sessions. A big swell blew through town right before they arrived and I think they caught a session or two, but unfortunately for the rest of their stay, it just got redinkulously small. No worries, the boys rented longboards for the remainder of their trip and we had a nice Sayulita one-footer sesh on their last day. The style council was definitely in full effect.
The above pics are from a series of shots taken over two days at the same spot. the mythical spot. 30 shots in all, meander on over to my flickr stream to peep the goodness.
This is a return to ‘form’ of sorts. Photography-wise, I’ve been experimenting with knocking the contrast and saturation down, intentionally making the images more flat. I’m tired ‘a that. Also, these are two images from a larger forthcoming series on losing local breaks to unchecked real estate development here in Nayarit.
If you’ve been to Sayulita, chances are you know what delicious goodness lies in wait, in the big haphazardly-built, blazing yellow building, fortified with wrought-iron signs, just off the square. Chairs, tables and old surf mags crammed into every single nook possible. In a town whose restaurants and businesses ebb and flow with the tides of the high and low tourist seasons, Sayulita Fish Taco is an integral part of Sayulita’s gilded prana. That is to say, Sayulita would not be the same without it.
Albert is the proprietor behind the famous yellow building and the delicious, distinctly traditional mexican fare. Always a smile and a good word, I’ve encountered him enumerable times out in the line-up, at ‘Rubber Dingies’ and ‘Enchiladas’, trimming his brains out with the ‘alma’ of an overgrown kid.
With a nice, twisted, sun-burnt sense of humor, Albert is the kinda guy with the ingenuity to rig up a user-controllable webcam so you can check out the front of his restaurant, never mind the ‘Mexican Waikiki’ otherwise known as Sayulita beach, just three blocks away, who’d want a webcam to check that out? He winks and says (and I’m paraphrasing, here) “Aw Yeah, it’s great. You can control the webcam and sometimes I move it to the other side of the pole, so you can see the big fiestas they throw in the town square”. The irony isn’t lost on Albert, that’s just the kinda guy he is.
Long after the snowbirds have all flown home, during the heart of the humidity riddled rainy season, you can still see Albert slogging in today’s catch as he sets his shop up for another day of fish tacos and cerveza. Albert has gone native.
I’m currently perfecting my technique of launching the 9-oh into the 3 foot shore dump, direct to the nose for a split second of crouched bliss and then punch through the tiny lip into 2 feet of water rushing up the steep beach.
Micro-seconds of trim can be stretched out into hours of joy.
A few weeks back, I was out scavenging the northern Bahia de Banderas coast for anything that looked like ridable waves. My tour of the local breaks brought me to Punta Mita, where I caught a few good ankle biters and then managed to snap off a few good shots.
As I was shooting the bevy of longboarders from the tip of a breakwater jetty, I caught the attention of a group of visiting “old dude” surfers throwing shakas my way (through my 100-400mm lens) as they were hanging out in the shade, on the beach. As I finished up and made my way over to the group, I was greeted by a guy by the name of Joe Doggett. It turns out Joe and his buddies return year after year, to Punta Mita, the ‘Mexican Malibu’ as he called it. We exchanged local surf break information and traded horror stories of how the area is rapidly changing due to spiralling out-of-control development. Joe mentioned that he had been a writer for the Houston Chronicle.
We eventually came around to the history of surfing in the area and how Punta Mita was discovered. Joe related parts of a September 1965 Surfer Magazine article, written by Bill Cleary, about his feral surf expedition on the hunt for “Mexico’s Malibu” as discovered by a screenwriter named Peter Viertel who found the fabled break while daytripping through the bay’s several breaks while his wife, actress Deborah Kerr, filmed her scenes in Night of the Iguana (the movie that literally put Vallarta on the map).
Joe Doggett’s stories and impressive knowledge of surf history, had me kicking my own teeth in, after I said goodbye to Joe and the crew without asking for his contact info or email address. A few days after I posted the photos from that day, flickr user Rex Enigma commented on Joe’s photo above, asking if it was indeed thee “Joe Doggett” and today Rex hipped me to a recent article in The Houston Chronicle, where Joe goes briefly in to Cleary’s 1965 Surfer Mag article and than continues on with his own long and varied history of visiting Mazatlan and Vallarta in search of surf breaks and the “Mexican Malibu”:
Other spots were excellent, but the Mexican Malibu was a no-show not enough swell, wrong angle, wrong tide, wrong week, wrong season, on and on over dispirited bottles of Pacifico beer at the cantina overlooking the beach.
Nirvana, at last
Then, as if in a dream, it was there. Last year, we pulled the board-racked vehicle to a stop and watched in disbelief as ruler-edged powder-green walls brushed by straight offshore wind peeled into the cove. We caught the Mexican Malibu for six consecutive days, with the swell peaking at 2 to 3 feet overhead. This spring, our trip was highlighted by three days of Mexican Malibu, with shoulder- to head-high sets each session. This literal groundswell of riches only can support the virtues of patience and confidence.
It’s an amazing story and a great read. I flipped out, as I read it and thought back to my conversation with Joe. Understanding the history behind this place I live in and how it fits in to the larger surf cannon never really even occurred to me, until my talk with Joe and his boys. I’d like to send a big, cosmic, shaka bra thank you, out there to Joe for unfolding a lesson and sparking a light in a new corner of my consciousness. I’m in his debt.
Incidentally, if there are any surf-memorabilia pack rats out there, that might just have the Sept ‘65 Surfer Mag squirreled away somewhere, I’d give my first born for a scanned pdf of the Cleary ‘Mexican Malibu’ article. My first born or some newly minted gold bullion. your choice.
The top shot taken on a surf trip to Ostula Michoacan, in August of ‘07 and the bottom shot, taken at local mainstay Quesadillas. Visual cousins.
On a side note: some jerkwad burned the ramada down at Quesadillas, this past week. The one the bottom picture was taken through. Nothing that can’t be rebuilt with a little hard sweat and a machete, but definitely a random, unnecessary act of destruction. totally bummer.
I love this shot of Tzahui Poo, local Bucerias homie and owner of Mictlan Surf School in Punta Mita. Tzahui is kinda like the Michael Jordan of the area, güey gets serious air. Sometimes he makes it, sometimes he doesn’t. But he always puts on a good show for the rest of us. Now if I could get him to stop stealing my waves, it’d be all good.
Thursday the swell finally hit after solid weeks of small waves. Burros got the heaviest of the lashing, with wave heights topping out at 8 feet. Here’s the best of the bunch of photos Mosbeffers took on Friday. Two sessions: one in the am and one in the pm. During the time that these photos were shot, I was in the water either taking headers over the falls, getting dropped in on or just fighting for position (between the currents and the competition). I managed to get another session in, this morning (Sat) and it was the best of the three days. Not wave height wise, but sheer quality of rides. When it’s firing El Paredon is the shizz.
Went searchin’, today, for any pre-cursors of the incoming swell. There’s definitely a lot of chop and the bay is looking super worked from all the air. But no real swell and any uptick is blown out in the massive wind. Conversely, the kiteboarders are having a field day. All along the beach in bucerias day-glow parachutes whiz above the tree tops.
I tried to stop in at Pools/Albercas, one of my favorite breaks - that only works with the summer storm systems, to check the access situation (there’s been rumors) and much to my dismay, there is a new security gate that denied me access to the road that passes near the break. I was under the impression that A. The road is built on top of a river bed, what would be designated as “Federal Zone” (hence illegal to put in a gate or deny access without laborious and costly, federal permits - which I highly doubt they have) and B. The road itself was not deeded property of the condominium association that owns the Punta Del Burro property, so it would be illegal for the association to deny access to the road. We’ll have to do some due diligence.
This gets to the heart of a serious problem happening all up and down the coast between La Cruz and Punta Mita and one that I’ve been reticent to write about. Access to our handful of surf breaks is slowly being choked off one by one, as is the access to each of the local swimming beaches. People point fingers and say that it’s the Gringos, but I don’t think it’s that simple.
The past four years has seen an explosion of land development along this coast. Land exchanged hands, plans drawn up, permits filed and now building is starting to happen everywhere. Relatively rapidly, access to sacred surf breaks are being choked off by developers and homeowners associations, who don’t want people accessing the beaches from what usually amounts to lot boundary lines and semi-dry riverbeds.
This is a heavy and laborious subject and requires more than a simple post, so I guess I’m committing myself to a series of posts that will in all likeliness just graze the surface of the unintended problems real estate development is creating, in the bay.
For now, I’ll point you to Vida Cadu Cada, the blog of a recently enacted local civil association whose raison d’etre is to work with local, state and national authorities to secure access for surfers to these sites. I’ve kinda signed on, to help with the english speaking contingent.
Why? cuz kitties are cute. that’s why. that and the fact that Ana can surf a short board better than you. She shreads! Put gnarly surf chicks together with kitties and it’s photo gold, my friend. works every time.
With impending swell on the way, I went for an 8:30am checkup. not too early to catch the morning session (and accompanying traffic jam of earth moving vehicles, buses and pick up trucks stacked to the gills with albañiles - all on their way out to Punta Mita to make luxury houses for the richie riches). and not too late, before the rays start to bake you alive and the wind whips the water into a blown-out, frothish frenzy.
Assuming there’d be at least some kind of swell, I over-shot and brought the shortboard. Rolled up to “the spot” to find 16 longboarders with occasional two to three footers. With nice, glassy conditions there were some nice waves coming through, an uptick from last week, but nothing chewable for a 6′0″. I surveyed the scene for a while. Some longboarder chick was rockin’ it, inna fine style. Amazing leg work, subtle and steady. Just as a I grabbed the camera, she headed back to shore.
Back to the break at 6:00pm with the wind whipping everything into fine white foam. This time the 6′0″ worked nicely on the slightly larger set waves, but with no real power in ‘em, they’re what I’d call “lazy”. I still had fun and being back out the shortboard was a nice change from the waterlog, good paddle practice for any incoming swell and nice to work out those shortboard legs.
Last week was spent trimming ankle slappers. But sometimes you just need a taste. Not a local to be seen in the water. A ghost town populated by visiting surf families with multiple surf instructors.
Survey sez: major swell approaching. Depending on who you ask, it’ll arrive here Wed or Fri, I’m betting on Wednesday. Spent this weekend repairing mis cuatro tablas. Each board with varying degrees of dings, bruises and gashes. The fish had a nice run in with a visiting mini super grom whose soccer dad was video taping him, as I ducked the wrong way and his skagg put a nice 6 inch gash into my rail. The super-light ATL 6′0″ had a nice little nose ding, with foam showing, probably from out-of-the-water damage. and the longboard had a year’s worth of gouges and scrapes, it ain’t called the “waterlog” for nothin’. I ran out of catalyst along the way, so funboard repairs are left til next round (the learning board). I’ll have to restock up next time I head to the states. Finding ding repair kits in Mexico is not easy, you can thank homeland security for that one. We guard our kits, here, like our first born.
Hi, my name is Ed Fladung, I'm a recovering web-designer who moved to Mexico about 4 years ago. Learned to surf, got married and bought a nice camera. This is my weblog/photoblog. It covers broad subjects like becoming an ex-pat, surfing, photography, graphic design, music, art, architecture, living in mexico, all things Apple and WordPress related, etc... You can find more about me here. I hope you enjoy.
i'm thinking about an app for making screen grab posters. i heard of one awhile back 18 hrs ago
so what's the best app for turning video into pshop files? 18 hrs ago
"everywhere" mag goes bye bye. Personally, i never saw new images being posted. i posted a few and they never showed up in 'new submissions' 18 hrs ago
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