After finally coming to terms that it probably would continue to suck at San Blas/El Recodo , I decided to surf La Bocana, something I hadn't done in eight months.
As I locked the door to leave, I felt a pang. It seemed to exhort to me to take a preemptive poop. I diagnosed it as a juicy movement of the gaseous kind but in the back of my mind was some doubt.
After three spooky incidents all within a mile of my place and within an eighth-mile of one another, it was smooth sailing. I got behind a pick-up truck with two dolls hanging under the bed, presumably as a warning against future doll transgressions and shadowed it. This helped me avoid potholes and hazards. There was an incident in 2003 when I was driving down shadowing a car and it hit a crossing dog. The dog lifelessly careened down the road and under my car and I somehow managed to avoid further defiling its presumed corpse.
Once I got into La Libertad proper I began to receive warning signs from my intestines. It got bad, but I was able to let off some pressure thanks to some very measured eructions.
Arriving at the hotel, I called Chuleta. I didn't beat around the bush and asked for the nearest empty room's bathroom. While offloading, I noticed my legs didn't have much room while sitting, I couldn't make my fist fit between my knees and the wall. But the flush was strong with this one, and that is the only thing that truly splattered.
We'd made plans to surf but I figured he would bail. He has become a bit husky and knew it would be big. He was out of shape and not in the mood, as predicted, but had other cover in the form of no one being around to watch the place or his kids. I harassed him by telling him his kids could come film but he said the three-year-old wasn't ready.
I parked, 'screened while chatting Chuleta up, then embarked on the long walk. I saw Sunzalito and was pleased to see the sea's surface was smooth. I turned the corner and La Bocana was doing its thing. It was big, but not unmanageable, even for me on my 5'10".
I waded out in the low tide and paddled out pretty uneventfully. I was surprised to be the only one out on a Saturday. Sunzal was packed, it looked like a floating ant swarm out there. I dodged bombs and got smacked around by a few, but nothing too bad. Until...
...The Set came. It surprised me as I was sitting pretty far out, WELL past the rock after which the stretch of beach is named. I didn't get hit too hard, but I was pushed back enough to have no shot at cresting the bigger wave. I spent the next fifteen minutes pretty much in place, paddling my ass off and duckdiving. I got pushed to the east a bit, but still in position for some rights.
Two dudes had paddled out. I saw one catch a wave and immediately kick out. The current was disgusting and unforgiving.
Long story still too long, I paddled for one wave I might have been able to catch had I been ten feet more on the inside and that was the only look I got at a wave. I was so whupped, not from any real beatdown (maybe a 6.5 on the beatdown scale at worst), but the absolute tenacious quantity. I went in well east of the river, farther east than I ever have. Ugly sharp boulders littered the gauntlet that awaited me. The ones that weren't sharp were slippery. I scraped my knee pretty bad and have small cuts all over my feet. I even fell on my ass and thought I'd dinged the board but apparently it was a fin tap on the rocks. My lower ribs met rock very softly but I thankfully wasn't cut.
The long walk was hampered by a thorn in my foot, cuts all over my lower extremities, and my tail between my legs.
As I locked the door to leave, I felt a pang. It seemed to exhort to me to take a preemptive poop. I diagnosed it as a juicy movement of the gaseous kind but in the back of my mind was some doubt.
After three spooky incidents all within a mile of my place and within an eighth-mile of one another, it was smooth sailing. I got behind a pick-up truck with two dolls hanging under the bed, presumably as a warning against future doll transgressions and shadowed it. This helped me avoid potholes and hazards. There was an incident in 2003 when I was driving down shadowing a car and it hit a crossing dog. The dog lifelessly careened down the road and under my car and I somehow managed to avoid further defiling its presumed corpse.
Once I got into La Libertad proper I began to receive warning signs from my intestines. It got bad, but I was able to let off some pressure thanks to some very measured eructions.
Arriving at the hotel, I called Chuleta. I didn't beat around the bush and asked for the nearest empty room's bathroom. While offloading, I noticed my legs didn't have much room while sitting, I couldn't make my fist fit between my knees and the wall. But the flush was strong with this one, and that is the only thing that truly splattered.
We'd made plans to surf but I figured he would bail. He has become a bit husky and knew it would be big. He was out of shape and not in the mood, as predicted, but had other cover in the form of no one being around to watch the place or his kids. I harassed him by telling him his kids could come film but he said the three-year-old wasn't ready.
I parked, 'screened while chatting Chuleta up, then embarked on the long walk. I saw Sunzalito and was pleased to see the sea's surface was smooth. I turned the corner and La Bocana was doing its thing. It was big, but not unmanageable, even for me on my 5'10".
I waded out in the low tide and paddled out pretty uneventfully. I was surprised to be the only one out on a Saturday. Sunzal was packed, it looked like a floating ant swarm out there. I dodged bombs and got smacked around by a few, but nothing too bad. Until...
...The Set came. It surprised me as I was sitting pretty far out, WELL past the rock after which the stretch of beach is named. I didn't get hit too hard, but I was pushed back enough to have no shot at cresting the bigger wave. I spent the next fifteen minutes pretty much in place, paddling my ass off and duckdiving. I got pushed to the east a bit, but still in position for some rights.
Two dudes had paddled out. I saw one catch a wave and immediately kick out. The current was disgusting and unforgiving.
Long story still too long, I paddled for one wave I might have been able to catch had I been ten feet more on the inside and that was the only look I got at a wave. I was so whupped, not from any real beatdown (maybe a 6.5 on the beatdown scale at worst), but the absolute tenacious quantity. I went in well east of the river, farther east than I ever have. Ugly sharp boulders littered the gauntlet that awaited me. The ones that weren't sharp were slippery. I scraped my knee pretty bad and have small cuts all over my feet. I even fell on my ass and thought I'd dinged the board but apparently it was a fin tap on the rocks. My lower ribs met rock very softly but I thankfully wasn't cut.
The long walk was hampered by a thorn in my foot, cuts all over my lower extremities, and my tail between my legs.
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