One of my neighbors invited me on a boat trip a few days prior. We spent the twentieth in Managua, where the streets do have names but the government chooses not to post them anywhere. We went there to speak to an attorney and file paperwork for a corporation; a must since we are too young to apply for residency through pensioner status.
It was easily the worst day of our time here so far and I knew I'd be getting up early the next day, as I'd already committed to the boat trip.
I knocked on Tyler's door and he said to be out in the car park by 4:20. Oof! I was bumming but I'd committed and that was that.
The next morning, I got some coffee and went down. I marveled at the too-many-to-count stars, many of which I hadn't seen in ages due to light pollution issues in the States.
I got in the car with three Canadian guys and we drove off to Astillero in the pitch blackness. There was some worry as to whether there'd be a boat for us to hire since we'd be arriving just after first light. Luckily when we pulled up there was a portly older man wearing a towel around his waist. He said it'd be $120 and we talked him down to $100.
The panga was on the beach and they stuck nice smooth logs under it, taking the logs off the stern side and back under bow as they rolled. Once we got to the water, a canopy and engine were added and off we went.
After about twenty minutes, we pulled up to Playgrounds. I had read a few months ago that this place was similar to a warm-water Lowers and was salivating that the lefts were longer than the rights (unlike its cold-water cousin).
I caught one of the first waves and it immediately sectioned off. I arced off the top and in the resulting gathering of my board I sliced my foot and big toe. It wasn't a bad injury and at no point did I feel I should go back to the boat.
We had it to ourselves though we warily eyed a couple of off-road buggies that came by. The first let some dudes out who paddled to a waiting panga. The second didn't get there until we'd left (it seemed to want to follow our boat as it reached the limit of the pointed headland; still no clue as to what they were doing).
Our first boner bender (other than the uptick in swell not being enough to let Playgrounds do its thing) was a panga that let out three loggers and their photog. We scooted down the point a ways, as the initial peak seemed to fold over every time.
I caught zero memorable waves and eventually we paddled to the boat.
It was easily the worst day of our time here so far and I knew I'd be getting up early the next day, as I'd already committed to the boat trip.
I knocked on Tyler's door and he said to be out in the car park by 4:20. Oof! I was bumming but I'd committed and that was that.
The next morning, I got some coffee and went down. I marveled at the too-many-to-count stars, many of which I hadn't seen in ages due to light pollution issues in the States.
I got in the car with three Canadian guys and we drove off to Astillero in the pitch blackness. There was some worry as to whether there'd be a boat for us to hire since we'd be arriving just after first light. Luckily when we pulled up there was a portly older man wearing a towel around his waist. He said it'd be $120 and we talked him down to $100.
The panga was on the beach and they stuck nice smooth logs under it, taking the logs off the stern side and back under bow as they rolled. Once we got to the water, a canopy and engine were added and off we went.
After about twenty minutes, we pulled up to Playgrounds. I had read a few months ago that this place was similar to a warm-water Lowers and was salivating that the lefts were longer than the rights (unlike its cold-water cousin).
I caught one of the first waves and it immediately sectioned off. I arced off the top and in the resulting gathering of my board I sliced my foot and big toe. It wasn't a bad injury and at no point did I feel I should go back to the boat.
We had it to ourselves though we warily eyed a couple of off-road buggies that came by. The first let some dudes out who paddled to a waiting panga. The second didn't get there until we'd left (it seemed to want to follow our boat as it reached the limit of the pointed headland; still no clue as to what they were doing).
Our first boner bender (other than the uptick in swell not being enough to let Playgrounds do its thing) was a panga that let out three loggers and their photog. We scooted down the point a ways, as the initial peak seemed to fold over every time.
I caught zero memorable waves and eventually we paddled to the boat.
No comments:
Post a Comment