Our 90-day visas were up and it was time to get out of Nica. We were gnarled out on the way to the airport as we're going through what very well may be the beginning of a revolution. As a non-Nica, it is illegal for me to say anything political so I will leave it at that, no matter how infinitesimal the chances are of anyone consequential reading this.
My sister and brother-in-law are members of a club that has a nice beach club. I'd surfed here on two occasions. The first was with my cousin Ed in 2002. I remember I caught a right and was struggling to make it without being left behind. All of a sudden, the thing felt bottom and threw over. I instinctively ducked down, got completely swallowed up in water and made what at the time was my first backside barrel.
The next time I surfed there was with my buddy Tim, who came down to El Salvador in 2003. This time was also courtesy of Ed but I have zero memory of any waves, though I do remember it being lackluster.
I stopped at my buddy's hotel on the outskirts of El Tunco called Hotel Puesta del Sol. My buddy Chamba (who three weeks ago moved to the US) told me he'd drop off my board at the hotel but unfortunately didn't, and so Chuleta was a real bro and went to get one from his other adopted brother, 23-year-old Tony (whom I've known since he was two).
When we first got there, the waves were simply going off with not a soul out. We'd ordered food and I sat there taking in the surf porn in front of me. It wasn't perfect, but it was head-high and rippable. I wanted so badly to paddle out but didn't want to be rude to my sister and her family as they were our hosts.
The tide continued to drop as I bit into my food. It eventually got downright crappy. There were too many closeouts. I'd BLOWN it!
I paddled out and on my first wave, a left, I began pumping furiously. Nothing was happening, though. It was as though my gas pedal had been disconnected. The board was ancient, one of the yellowest I'd ever surfed but I couldn't figure out why it was dragging so much.
I had another wave with the same issues and eventually floated west and caught a right. It was a little fat, surprising given the dropping tide. I rose up and snapped. I came down again and laid into a roundhouse cutty, pulled that, and the wave was done.
Unfortunately, nothing worthwhile came that afternoon and the morning looked even worse.
Still, seeing that magical hour was enough to make me fantasize about having a surf camp there.
My sister and brother-in-law are members of a club that has a nice beach club. I'd surfed here on two occasions. The first was with my cousin Ed in 2002. I remember I caught a right and was struggling to make it without being left behind. All of a sudden, the thing felt bottom and threw over. I instinctively ducked down, got completely swallowed up in water and made what at the time was my first backside barrel.
The next time I surfed there was with my buddy Tim, who came down to El Salvador in 2003. This time was also courtesy of Ed but I have zero memory of any waves, though I do remember it being lackluster.
I stopped at my buddy's hotel on the outskirts of El Tunco called Hotel Puesta del Sol. My buddy Chamba (who three weeks ago moved to the US) told me he'd drop off my board at the hotel but unfortunately didn't, and so Chuleta was a real bro and went to get one from his other adopted brother, 23-year-old Tony (whom I've known since he was two).
When we first got there, the waves were simply going off with not a soul out. We'd ordered food and I sat there taking in the surf porn in front of me. It wasn't perfect, but it was head-high and rippable. I wanted so badly to paddle out but didn't want to be rude to my sister and her family as they were our hosts.
The tide continued to drop as I bit into my food. It eventually got downright crappy. There were too many closeouts. I'd BLOWN it!
I paddled out and on my first wave, a left, I began pumping furiously. Nothing was happening, though. It was as though my gas pedal had been disconnected. The board was ancient, one of the yellowest I'd ever surfed but I couldn't figure out why it was dragging so much.
I had another wave with the same issues and eventually floated west and caught a right. It was a little fat, surprising given the dropping tide. I rose up and snapped. I came down again and laid into a roundhouse cutty, pulled that, and the wave was done.
Unfortunately, nothing worthwhile came that afternoon and the morning looked even worse.
Still, seeing that magical hour was enough to make me fantasize about having a surf camp there.
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