Nightmare at Playa Yankee "Paradise" aka Casa Pablo aka "Beautiful Sunsets" (Airbnb)

Please see updates at very bottom!

This is the place I'm referring to: https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/11571330  Stay anywhere but here!

I'd been eyeing this place as a possible vacation spot since I had started planning over a year ago.  We had originally intended it to be a ten-day vacation but I splurged and extended it specifically so we could stay here. We stayed at the great Casa Las Mareas in Encanto del Sur, just north of San Juan del Sur and, as good as our stay was while there, we were excited to come here.  I'd had visions of teaching our eldest daughter to swim in the pool here while my wife enjoyed the view with our younger daughter.

We got there on a Wednesday.  The view to the water was spectacular but was immediately marred by the sight of the green pool; hornets swarming in the shallow area as well as some elsewhere in the pool.  My daughter was understandably freaked out.  I asked Gilberto, the caretaker, about it and he said (translated quote), "It's an open area, there's nothing you can do about them".  I thought back to our stay at Casa Las Mareas and its pristine pool, also in an open area.  I let the idea of asking him to put out wasp traps slide after I realized I didn't want to dip my head in a pool that looked like this:

The first time the power went out was before 11PM our very first night. My wife and I woke up within five minutes of one another, sweating and wondering why.  The fan, our sole source of ventilation, had turned off.  We chalked this outage to the planned power outage the entire San Juan del Sur area goes through on Thursday, figuring maybe they were getting an early start.  We had our girls (three years old, seven months old) with us in bed and sweltered through the rest of the night.

The following morning, the power came back on briefly, then went out again after about thirty minutes.  We (my wife, our two little girls, my uncle and I) took a day trip that day and came back to the house.  The power stayed on for a little over one hour this time, just enough to give us hope that the power issues were behind us.  The power went out again and we settled in for another sweltering night.

I arose before sunrise and walked outside.  The houses below (known as Beach House Beauty when it was listed on the market) and Casa Alta both had power.  A five-minute walk in the opposite direction revealed Casa Monet had power as did Orquídea del Sur.

The next day I spoke to the caretaker at length about the issues.  I asked him why we were having power issues if we had a solar power system (after I heard the humming and spotted the batteries and put two and two together). He explained to me that the "solar system" had broken six months ago and the panels had been removed.  The main power appears to be inexplicably running through the solar power inverter and more than likely through the batteries, as they were humming.

I asked him if the owner was aware of this and he eventually admitted that the owner was in fact aware of the issue with the power going down constantly.  It was on this day, our second-to-last full day of our time here, we were told there was a generator available for us.

At this point we still weren't sure if the power issues would continue.  My wife and I thought about the sound of the generator and how it would decimate the sound of the ocean way down below, but at least we'd have power.  I asked him to please set it up and he agreed to do so.  Ten minutes later I heard an engine start and unfortunately for us it was his motorcycle's and not the house's generator.  Gilberto took off and I didn't see him again until the next day.  My wife tallied our time without electricity and including a three-hour spurt, we had four hours of power/communication (no cell phone reception at the house, no wi-fi without electricity).  We ignored the groceries we had purchased and placed in the refrigerator for fear of letting out whatever cold air may have been left and spoiling our perishables (these ended up spoiling anyways).  We reluctantly went out to dinner again, one-hour round trip into town, so my uncle and I could get wi-fi and communicate with our respective jobs and clients.

I grew up in El Salvador both during and after its civil war and it was a rare day that the power didn't go out.  I am well aware of the fragility of the power grid in this part of the world. So you can imagine my frustration when EVERY house in the vicinity has power except for ours.  This is a COMPLETELY preventable issue of which the owner is absolutely aware, according to the caretaker. 

The next day, Saturday, the caretaker was there and I asked him again, more urgently, to please set up the generator.  We even discussed the best place to situate it.  He said, "Como usted quiera" (As you wish).  Not five minutes later, I heard his motorcycle start and by the time I got out there all I saw was the dust rooster tail that disintegrated before my frustrated eyes.  That dust cloud would be the last sign of Gilberto for the duration of our trip.

Rather than enjoy our last vacation day, we planned our first of what would turn into THREE trips into town (one-hour round trip down a VERY bumpy long stretch of dirt/rock road).  We had to go there because the next day was our last day, and we had to confirm our trip to the Liberia airport in Costa Rica and we had no way of communicating from the house because of the power issues.  We didn't know when/if/for how long the power would come back so we got ahead of the issue and drove into San Juan del Sur.  We were able to message the shuttle company, the rental car pick-up person, and the surf shop from which I'd rented my surfboard to coordinate.  We didn't get to confirm with everyone, so another trip was necessary before our last trip in the evening to ensure nothing had changed for the next day and get dinner (more unnecessary gas and food costs we could have avoided had the owner cared).  The power was out when we got back all three times, but came on for about  four hours total again.

We never saw Gilberto again.  We left the keys hanging by the door hoping they'd make it back to him without issues.  We never got any guidance on what to do with our trash/spoiled groceries.  The shuttle came and we were relieved to be gone.  How terrible does one's experience have to be when they can't wait to get home from vacation?  We were absolutely blissful at our first rental and are completely angry with the owners/managers for what amounts to fraud.

The crystalline pool shown in the VRBO ad was so inviting and we arrive to a hornet-blanketed science experiment.

Lack of power to only this house meant stress for everyone involved.  I couldn't get in touch with work clients until I went into town.  My uncle was dealing with an intricate project which he dealt with as best he could the little time we had power and our too-frequent trips to San Juan del Sur

This was supposed to be the absolute climax of our trip and it was an absolute nightmare.  The pool was unusable (the owner did offer to have it "cleaned" our last afternoon there even though I'd sent him pictures where chemicals and time were clearly needed).

Here are a couple of our exchanges. The first one is from March 31st, our first full day there (the previous day we left for Ometepe) with the realization that the power outages were not a cause of the Nicaraguan power grid but of internal issues of which the owners are fully aware, according to the caretaker.

The second-to-last sentence touches on our indecision to turn it on, not knowing if we were unlucky with the power issues.  We ended up asking Gilberto to turn it on about ten minutes after I sent this email (the power went off AGAIN).

So in case you didn't catch it, the owner's response was that because they have a generator for outages, there will be no talk of refunds.  Never mind that we never saw the generator and asked for it to be turned on several times.  Man, did we get bamboozled...

Don't be fooled by the following misleading claims in the ad, taken straight from their VRBO ad:

Nicaragua is blessed with an almost constant wind thanks to Lake Nicaragua.  Many houses are shrewdly built to take advantage of the natural ventilation possibilities.  The roof eaves at Casa Pablo were short-sightedly dropped down to cover the ventilation holes throughout the house, including those facing the predominant wind direction.  This means you won't get the natural cooling effect as described above.  And if you have power issues approaching our MASSIVE power outage issues, you will be soaking in sweat at night.

Ouch, this one hurts to read after the fact.  Here is where they admit that reliable internet (not to mention communication for checking in on clients, sub-contractors, family members) is important.  They, and this is straight from their caretaker Gilberto, knew the house had major power issues and still rent it out at full price.  Looking at their ad now reveals NO mention of the issues we confronted and is still promising an idyllic experience.


Here's a video of our last night:

 Here's a video of what we tried to do when the power went out, as instructed by the caretaker

UPDATE: The owner wrote me to say I was lying about the generator.  He said Gilberto told him he had hooked it up for us.  He told me he had seen the above videos (presumably tipped off by VRBO when I submitted a review) and he still insisted I was lying.  Why would I write to him our second full day of our stay and complain if the generator was going and all was well?  Why is there no power in the above videos?  Why isn't there the loud sound generators make in the video?

SECOND UPDATE: The owner pulled his listing off VRBO.  Good!  Hopefully this will save people from ruining their vacations here.  It's still up on Airbnb as of this writing.

THIRD UPDATE: My uncle, bless his heart, wrote up his review about what he experienced during his terrible stay at this "vacation" rental.  The link is as follows: http://playayankeevacationrental.blogspot.com/

TALK STORY: The Infamous Cabo Trip, August 2007

My buddy Tim is a German national and had to leave and re-enter the country so as to renew his visa.  He invited me to go to Cabo with him.  I wasn't too excited about Cabo, so I suggested we go to Puerto Escondido, in Oaxaca, which is about 5/6ths of the way to El Salvador.

He mulled it over and decided he didn't want to "shit his pants while getting slammed by closeouts".  He also said, "My buddy just got back from there and he said it was the best surf trip of his life".  I looked at the SurfLie forecast for Cabo and it said it would be between 2-4' and 3-5' with fair to good conditions.  I booked my ticket, a little bummed we weren't going to Puerto.

On the way to our hotel, we spotted the famous Costa Azul Surf Shop, which you may be familiar with if you're an avid reader of bumper stickers like me.  We went in there and rented boards.  I spoke Spanish to the girl who worked there and tried to charm her into a lower price but it didn't work.  She said I was the first person from El Salvador to visit the surf shop, at least that she knew of.  That's really not an interesting factoid considering Cabo is not really a surf destination and El Salvador's waves are WAY better.

We checked into the hotel and made plans to scour the area for waves the next day.  We passed by a spot that reminded me of a zippier version of El Recodo in El Salvador, but the sets were maybe 2'.  After getting lost and having to ask for directions multiple times, we found our way to Shipwrecks, a fickle but great-when-it's-working point break after over an hour on washboard roads.  It was about as flat as could be.

We came ALL the way back around the cape and surfed El Tule, the aforementioned El Recodo-ish wave.  It was more fun than expected, but our hopes were so low that it was still a C- session.  The best part was that we had surfed it to ourselves.

Upon returning I logged on to check what the conditions were at Puerto Escondido, just to torture myself.  The surf report revealed my worst fears.  Puerto Escondido: 8-10' EPIC.  I had never seen Surfline assign this adjective to any day before and I have yet to see it again.  I showed it to Tim with a pissed off look on my face and he was really sweet about it.  He said, "Whatever dude, like you would've charged it".  I assured him I absolutely would have.

The next day we drove up the other side of the coast, on the Pacific side to a spot called Los Cerritos.  There were waves there, probably chest-high on the sets.  It was crowded, but we were getting waves.  The water was FREEZING and we were out in boardshorts.  We lasted as long as we could and went in to enjoy lunch.  Lunch wasn't great thanks to a squadron of flies that dogged us and our burgers throughout our meal.

We kept driving up the coast and exploring with very little sense of the surf.  We drove down several washboard roads that seemed to lead to the ocean.  On one of these, the angle of our approach was such that we were rocked violently from side to side very quickly, leading us to laugh our asses off.

We kept driving towards Cabo and saw a dilapidated sign that read "San Pedro RV Park".  We pulled off and went to explore what remained of someone's dream.  It was like visiting the rotting corpse of a business.  The windows had been smashed and the building while still standing, would not be for long. 
While there, inspiration struck because I leapt into a Madonna lyric "Last night I dreamt of San Pedro (RV Park)...".  There was a great set-up out front for waves and we could see fading murals of the wave in its day, doing its thing.  No waves on this day, though.

Our last Friday of the trip, we rolled up to Monuments, just outside of Cabo San Lucas.  I'd salivated over its pics as it was a meaty left point, but both times we'd checked it had sucked; tiny and/or unsurfable. Well, our final check revealed racetrack lefts coming down the short point and only spongers on it! 

We headed back to the car and our boards and then back out to the point.  We paddled out and I noticed there weren't enough waves for all of us.  There were maybe two spongers now and they were sitting deeper than us.  As one caught a wave, I decided to go deeper than his remaining counterpart.

I was almost immediately rewarded with the undisputed best wave of the trip.  I gingerly drew lines up and down the face with a very side-to-side approach, careful not to ruin the first great wave I'd had all trip.

I buzzed upon kick-out.  My lust for more seemed to increase with each paddle stroke.  I set up outside both spongers this time and within five minutes another set wave came.  I had to pull back on this one as it seemed to section off right where I was.  I paddled in a little more so I would be inside the sectioning bit but still outside the remaining sponger. 

A nice-sized wave came and I was all over it.  I had great positioning on it, maybe even a little early.  I paddled my ass off, slid up and descended straight.  I was about to start shifting my weight towards my toes when I went FLYING over the nose of my board. 

Instincts kicked in and I threw my arms out to protect me from whatever impact there may be.  I hit only water, thankfully, but my board was ominously laying two misaligned fins up. NOOOOOOOOO!  Mere seconds before, it had been a three-fin thruster.

I paddled the maimed board out of the danger zone and went in.  Tim had already gone in and asked me what happened.  I mentioned there had been an incident and flipped the board over.  Most of the tail had been delaminated revealing fresh white foam.  One side fin was torn off completely, its escape route etched into the board by the missing foam.

The center fin was poking through the deck of the board, about a fifth of it was showing through.  The third fin was undisturbed.  As I finished my mental assessment of the damage, Tim was in full cackle. He gleefully shrieked, "You're so fucked, dude! You're paying for that board.".  I, at my most optimistic (and unrealistic, I thought, as I uttered the following spoken thought), said "Nah , it'll probably be, maybe, eighty bucks".

We went back to Costa Azul and my first of many prayers was answered when the girl who'd rented our boards was behind the counter.  I came in, board and hat in hand, and flipped it over in front of her after saying there had been an incident.  She gasped, "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee! (English Onomatopoeic approximation)".

I chose my words carefully, saying it would obviously need two new fins and a pretty major patch job in the tail's rail and deck.  I admitted I would obviously have to pay a fair amount for the repairs.  She said, "You're going to have to pay for this board, $250".  I grimaced mournfully, respectfully disagreed, and went for another round about how the repairs would have to go.  She did another lap on my having to pay for the board, this time at half-effort, and I did my puppy-dog eyes routine and told her that the board wasn't totaled and was easily salvageable.

She started laughing and told me she was messing with me.  She surveyed the damage up close and after a flurry of Matt-Damon-at-the-chalkboard-in-Good-Will-Hunting type calculations, she showed me a handwritten receipt on which the final damage was $80.  I signed the credit card receipt, returned the board and ecstatically power-walked to the car where Tim was waiting.  I shoved the receipt practically in his face and screamed, "EIGHTY BUCKS, MOTHERFUCKER!".

4.1.17 How does one score Empty Playa Yankee?

We had suffered through our third of four sweltering nights in our terrible vacation rental (Casa Pablo aka Playa Yankee "Paradise") due to power issues at the house, every other house in the neighborhood had power (as evidenced by their exterior/facade lighting).  It was really frustrating when all of the San Juan del Sur has power, except your house (for which you paid a pretty penny.  Full post coming soon...

Apparently, the trick to scoring empty Playa Yankee is to go in the morning, before the hostel/surf school shuttles show.  Our trip's mornings didn't coincide with the high tide, so at the size of the waves we got while there, it was only really surfable at mid- to high tide.  My uncle and I headed down there; I to surf, and he to body-surf. 

We must have caught it right at mid because the waves kept coming.  I had a great time picking and choosing my waves. 

On my first wave, I did a sick top turn on which I was squatting inches from the water as I descended back down the wave, but I ended up falling on my nutsack.  Some guys have a masochistic scrotal pain fetish but I seem to be missing that gene as this confirmed it for the umpteenth time.

I  surfaced and kicked my legs around to stimulate movement and maybe blood flow to the affected testicle and it stopped aching after less than thirty seconds.  I paddled back out and perched again.

I did a couple of pump to oblivion waves and tried for airs on both end sections, the offshore wind IMMEDIATELY removing the board from my feet.  Go for a grab you may say, but how can you go for a grab if you've left and re-entered the water before your fingers touch foam? 😖😔

My uncle made it about an hour before he was over it and I joined up with him after one last wave on which I got my weekly pump quota in ten seconds.

We headed back to the Element and up to our what turned out to be an expensive campsite ($200+/night for four hours of fans, electricity, internet per day and an algae-ridden pool).

3.31 High Tide Playa Yankee with Even More People!,

I'd taken the previous day off to go visit Ometepe in Lake Nicaragua with my family.

By the time the surf looked doable, I could see some heads in the water from about half a kilometer away.  I thought I'd try to get close to my share since we were leaving soon and I'd only surfed three times the whole trip.

It's a close call from our rental whether to drive or walk.  It's about a third of a mile down, but it is down a steep and loose rock/dirt road, some of it just a car-and-a-half-width-wide on some blind turns.

This beach is known for people having their stuff stolen, and had my sandals gone missing, I would have cursed my decision to walk with every step up the hill.

The parking lot was full and I was told to do a hairpin U-turn, about 195 degree turn down and then immediately up broken-up rock.  It took me a few tries of rocking the 4WD Honda Element back and forth at the crux of the direction change to get it.

I hotfooted it down the very sharp and hot broken-up rock and made it to the sand before I'd realized I'd forgotten my ear plugs.  Back up, then down I went.  The main point wasn't breaking today either so around the rock bend I went again.

The beach scene was absolutely hopping.  There is a beach bar set up and quite a few twenty-somethings were partying.

The head count in the water was high, over twenty.

I got several waves stolen from me, including one on which I got back-paddled by a guy who'd not fifteen minutes earlier bitched out a local for burning him on a wave.  He must've misunderstood the idea behind pay it forward.

I eventually, after about forty minutes of doing the paddle/pull-back-because-etiquette-dictates-to-do-so/whirl around/paddle/duckdive/paddle circuit, I caught a couple and biffed both of them.  One was a too-far-out-on-the-shoulder-with-no-speed cutty attempt and the other was a classic EddieP backwards splay on a top turn.  I left the water super frustrated with the crowd and my performance, I gingerly stepped back to the Element, rocked back and forth several times to make it past the gnarly hairpin U-turn, and returned to our blacked-out rental (stay tuned for a full explanation).

3.29.17 High Tide Playa Yankee

We switched vacation rentals as I'd been eyeing a development thirty minutes south of San Juan del Sur.  It has a wedging left and it didn't look as though it was surfed often.  As we drove down the rutty dirt/rock road, my confirmation bias kicked in with each bump.  There were other waves which were a lot more convenient, it made sense for people to surf elsewhere.

Here's the view to which we arrived (this is post-sesh):

Imagine my surprise when I paddled out in the afternoon and I'm jostling for position with a dozen other dudes.

I caught several lined-up waves (my first with dry hair) and I was enjoying my time out there.  The biggest bummer was a bomb came through and I paddled for it.  I popped up and stomped down and I saw a local paddling right to me less than twenty feet from the nose of my board.  I eyed him as I descended the wave.  I was watching for signs of him beginning a duckdive but his only movement was a look of deepening terror on his face.  I made the decision to jump off my board as I would have absolutely hit him with so little time/face to avoid him had I not aborted.  I reached for my leash underwater and yanked it back so I could perhaps spare him of a chance to get hit by a fiberglass torpedo. 

I surfaced, leash in hand, and asked him if he was ok.  He said yes.  I asked him if the board hit him and he responded affirmatively.  I apologized to him and he shrugged it off.  He never apologized for paddling straight at me, in the way of someone who was up and riding.  I likened this to his not knowing surf etiquette but later debated with myself as to how much of that was surf etiquette and how much of it was common sense.  The result is he was just a kid and the wave of my day was blown.

I caught a nice wave on which I pumped for a while and was going into a roundhouse cutback but didn't commit to weighting my front foot and shifting my hips forward so I awkwardly tumbled backwards.

I left the water and my right buttcheek was really sore for the rest of the night from bailing on the wave to save that kid's face.

3.27.17 High Tide Maderas

This time our timing coincided with the peak of the high tide which is usually a bummer.  The fat waves, and in this area of the world, the offshore winds, do their best to keep you sliding down only the backs of the waves while the wind cackles as it pelts you with stinging water needles as if to further mock you for your failure.

We got there and there were some makeable waves visible from the road.  I got a little excited but knew better than to get overamped.  The parking area was the fullest I'd seen it in my three trips there.  I paddled out and felt the gutlessness of the waves wash over me with each duckdive.

I  lost several waves to perfectly positioned locals on logs.  I let one go ahead of me even with my better positioning on a couple of waves as they were not looking/caring to see if anyone else was outside of them and just dropping in.

After a couple of almosts, it took me easily a half-hour to catch my first wave.  It was a left and shut down almost immediately.

I caught a right which had a little bit of a line to it, but it was small and fat and didn't let me go too far.

I caught an ok left and got one pump in, which upped my amp factor.  I was about halfway in and considered going in but I decided to go for one more.

About fifteen minutes later, I got my chance on a left.  I overpaddled for it, dropped in, and began swooping pumps.  My rented board, a 5'11" Pyzel, felt really loose under my feet.  The end of the wave approached after about four pumps and I swooped down and went more vertical than I've been known to.  I felt a tweak in my left hammy as I snapped.  The snap felt great other than the tweaked hamstring; I had a great angle with speed.  I found a way to flounder about two-thirds through the maneuver and I fell off my board.  I rode in on my belly and found my girls as I tried not to bend my knee too much for fear of more hammy pain. 

Here's to hoping an elusive solid night's rest is enough to make the tweak dissipate!

3.26.17 Playa Maderas Closeouts

We're staying in San Juan del Sur.  I had done a lot of research on the potential of this area and just a couple of days ago I had the following realization:

To surf decent-to-good waves for free, you go to Playa Maderas.

Marsella doesn't break all that often.

Remanso is too fat a wave, probably doable on massive days though.

Playa Hermosa and Playa Yankee charge $3-$4 per adult.  This is a pittance if you know the surf will be good and you're in for a good session, but it is an insurmountable amount for a surf check when the amount of swell is questionable.

The offshores are here, maybe even stronger than in the Tola (Colorado, Panga Drops) area.  But there seems to be more unsurfable coastline down here.  Costa Rica's Santa Rosa National Park is a peninsula that robs this area of almost all steep south swells.  This is likely a one and done trip as a result...

I'd been told that Playa Maderas is a zoo.  As mentioned above, it is free to go here and the waves can get very good, a rare combination for the SJDS metro area.  I was out with one other shortboarder and a few loggers who were just learning.  The crowd wasn't bad by any stretch, especially considering it's a Sunday when some locals might be on it.

The waves were up from the day before, but only marginally so.  It might have been shoulder high on the best sets.  The VAST majority were closing out.  This was likely a function of paddling out 90 minutes after the valley of the low tide, but I didn't have a choice because the family was in tow and we had to maneuver around breakfast/getting ready and naptime.

My first wave didn't immediately close out.  It gave me a split second in which to ponder, "Wow, if I summon Mick Fanning speed at takeoff I might make it around the first of many closing sections".

On my second wave, I did this mini-pump up top without thinking about it.  The offshore caught me trying to re-descend and impeded my process.  It turned my chances of reaching green water from .5 to 0%.

After this one I caught a right, which immediately closed out and I jumped up and over.

I was pretty over it by this point and went back in not long thereafter.

Surfer's Ear Surgery, SurfEars Promo

I surfed in southern Cali for seventeen years.  As years progressed, I would hear something up against my ear, figuring I'd unhinged something from spending my childhood pinching my nostrils when I sneezed.

 My family and I took a trip to Nicaragua and my ear sealed up on the plane, rendering it useless for the entire trip.  Then, water got in leading to an annoying week of attempting to clear my ear by popping it, using drops, shaking my head vigorously, etc.  I had to wait until I got to the States before I could get drops that eventually helped. This doctor diagnosed me with surfer's ear.

We moved to Colorado one month after returning from Nica and I didn't think too much about my ears for a while.  My wife became pregnant and I realized we would burn through our insurance deductible with fetal scans/labor/birth charges and I decided I would get my ears done since it would be relatively inexpensive given the timing (I also got a vasectomy, but that is a story for a different web site).

I went to an ear specialist and he said my left ear was 99% blocked and my right ear was 95% blocked and surgeries were medically necessary.  On the day of my scheduled surgery, I was assigned a nurse-in-training who had never put in an IV and had to do it twice leaving me with a hematoma in one hand. The equipment needed to monitor my facial nerves (an aggressive movement could have left my face paralyzed on one side) didn't show up.  Surgery was postponed until the next day and I crawled out of my butt-bearing gown and back into my clothes.

The next day my surgery went smoothly.  I had to have the outside of my ear slit open for complete access to the inside (some surgeons even cut through where the back of the ear connects to the head and swing pin it against the cheekbone!)The surgeon used a combination chip-and-high speed drill method to attack the growth for more than two hours. He pulled out a massive ear wax ball that had gotten trapped between my inner ear and the exostoses (medical term for the bony growths in ear known as surfer's ear).  This was the crackling I'd hear at yawning and sometimes post-duckdive.

I had pretty bad pain in the affected area as you can imagine.  I had crippling nausea for 48 hours.  The worst part by far was the tinnitus which would affect me at all times.  It sometimes got so loud it felt like someone was shrieking in my ear.  A side effect of this was me becoming depressed thinking my hearing would never come back (this is one of the risks of surgery; the high speed drill is very loud and the packing they put in the ear causes something called conductive hearing loss).  My bout of depression intensified with each passing day until I found a source online saying that it would probably take four to six weeks until my hearing came back (if at all, the pessimist in me thought).

The packing became extremely itchy in the triple-digit temperatures and that was maddening.  Imagine having an itch inside your head which you can't scratch for more than two weeks! 

Fifteen days after surgery, I went to the park with my family and was sitting on a bench when I heard the most beautiful sound.  It was a jogger approaching from my left side!  I had regained stereo audio!

At the request of my wife, I waited until nearly a month after our baby was born to operate on the second ear, this time at a different hospital.  Recovery went better this time around, namely because I had faith my hearing would return.  This time it took nineteen days, so I had creeping doubts around day seventeen.   

All in all, the surgeries cost me more than $5000 and would have cost me about NINE times that without insurance.  I went through physical and emotional pain, missed work, and dealt with unnecessary medical risks of losing my hearing and all of the possible pitfalls of general anesthesia.

Please, please, PLEASE get yourself a pair of SurfEars.  They prevent the cold water intrusion and keep surfer's ear at bay.  The tiny expense and inconvenience of this product is further dwarfed by the brutal consequences of surgery.  You will be hating life if Surfer's Ear becomes a reality for you, and it does to some extent for everyone who surfs in cold water without adequate protection.

5.31.16 Somewhat Ballsy Attempt at Punta Roca given my Saharan-Level Dry Spell

PuntaRoca53116

After my sorry excuse for a session (three pop-ups, no turns), I was interested to see how much I'd lost in my surfing on real waves.

I borrowed my uncle's Jeep and headed down there early.  As discussed, Chamba was at the point with his camera, shooting clients.

The wade/paddle -out wasn't too bad and I perched pretty aggressively, to the west of the decrepit rancho that's been there forever.

Over WhatsApp, I asked Chamba in the preceding year what the deal was with that property.  That would make quite the homestead.  What an amazing view of one of the world's best waves!  He told me, if I remember correctly, that some gringos owned it and had wanted to put up a condo tower on the back of the property.  That went nowhere beyond the marketing phase; the talk around town was that the government wanted a slice and it made the project unfeasible. He had also heard, if memory serves, that they were willing to let the property go for $2M. Ouch!

There is another property just to the east (for those who've been there, it's the one with the rotting pool and all of the palm trees) which is owned by people from San Salvador, but Chamba says they're not interested in selling.

It turns out one can rent a house an easy walking distance to PR for $150/night.  Conchalio is a great break and is rarely crowded. I had a great session there with Chamba in 2005 during which we pulled into some heavy not-makeable-by-us barrels and got slammed into raw logs that had washed out to the sea by a recent deluge. The linked-to house sits between both breaks.  Check out the razor wire on this house!

The session yielded me one really good turn on which I thought I was going down.  I think I caught six waves and fell on two.  I sat deeper than most and was not intimidated despite my prolonged sabbatical.  It was interesting to note muscle memory leads to my making the same mistakes of many sessions prior.  When I get back in the water much more frequently, I will work to correct these, starting with the most egregious ones.

5.29.16 Back in the Water after almost TWO YEARS, La Bocana/ita, El Salvador

My uncle's club membership includes a membership to a beachfront club right at Sunzal and we headed down on a Sunday.  I met up with Chamba at Roca Sunzal and he lent me a pair of boardshorts and a 5'11".

Sunzal was packed thanks to it being a Sunday and Sunzal.  It didn't look very good or very big.  I decided to try my luck at La Bocana even though that place can't handle wind well.

I was really excited to see how I would fare.  The longest I'd been out of the water prior to this was around two months during a prolonged flat spell in early 2000.  I walked up the beach on a rising tide and my pale, white feet were feeling the sun and rocks bonking around.  My matching body and its resulting glare likely caused a few locals to squint.

I hit the water with no one out.  My paddling technique came right back and my first duckdive felt incredible.  It was easy to see why no one had paddled out.  It was completely blown out, though about shoulder-high on the sets.  It was still the best surf I'd been in in a long time, and my stoke level reflected that.

I caught a wave on which I pumped once and watched it crumble lazily then close out.  The current was making its presence known.  I fought back with some southbound paddles but eventually gave up when I saw something break at La Bocanita.

I caught literally nothing of note the rest of the day.  My highlight was an extremely late drop, it almost felt like an air-drop.

I was extremely surprised at how in tune I still was with surfing.

BACK!

 I moved to CO in September of 2014 after having spent seventeen years surfing in CA.  A combination of things led to the move:

Surfing had become a chore, akin to sitting in a traffic jam.  You wait your turn to go and someone, too often,  would squeeze into your wave/lane.

I would be patient and surf my spot for months before it got a great day and BAM! Everyone and their cell phones reaches out and SLAM! gridlock.

My ear was a liability and surgery was at least necessary on it, though likely on both.

I had burned out in a major way on real estate.  It's a great line of work and I am thankful to have done well, thanks to my loyal clients, but there was a lot of burn-through with overhead (starting my own brokerage mitigated this somewhat) and self-employment taxes. I had a couple of incidents which sapped my mojo for the game.

We had the opportunity to join a start-up in CO, where I could use many of the skills I'd honed in real estate while getting a consistent check.  There was also the chance of much more should things go well, which could conceivably have helped us retire before turning 40.

About fourteen months ago, we made a plan to liquidate our CA holdings (condo in Cardiff where this blog was founded; Oside house where this blog was last updated) and do a tax-deferred exchange into a commercial property.  Aaron, who is featured on the first-ever post on this blog, was instrumental in helping me sell our CA properties on a major bro-basis and we are now in escrow on a commercial property which will generate income.

At some point in the near future, we will likely be moving down south.  Depending on when we go, we may have enough cash with which to buy a lot and build.  If we go early, I can use my Spanish and real estate pedigree to generate funds.

I don't have the desire to accumulate wealth.  I've long heard time is money but I think that is wrong.  You can generate more money but time is an ever-dwindling asset.  I'd like to live simply and give our girls plenty of our time rather than remain in the US and watch our income be decimated by bills, inflation, and taxes.  We are lucky to have sold both properties at a profit, especially the house, and our options have expanded as a result.

My ears have been surgically repaired (see future blog post for details) and I will be in the water again in March.  We are traveling to Nicaragua in March, this time to the far south of the country.

8.23.14 Irony in Oside: Maxing Beachbreaks

My wife and I got right back into the swing of things and did our dawn patrol walk.  The waves were overhead with some barrel sections, but they looked very tough to judge even from land.  We walked back and I rode the bike back with my board.

I caught a couple of big ones and was glad I didn't pearl.  There was nothing more to these waves except closing out with a vengeance.  I quit fighting the current's drift at Wisconsin as there was no point in clawing for closeouts (good name for a failing surf charity). 

My wave of the day only earned this title because of its competition.  I was in full survival mode when I dropped in, hoping to see daylight and get a whack in.  I pumped long and hard and was laughing at the ridiculous distance I covered.  Eventually I got a very feeble whack in which faded me off the wave. 

As I continued north, I was excited to see no one was at Pier and it became clear quickly as to why.  The current accelerated there.  I told myself no way would I be paddling under the pier with so much water moving around but the crazy current forced my hand(s).  A wave was approaching and I was within five yards of Pier.  I had a decision to make.

I sprint-paddled towards Pier and had to quickly take into account the suck-out of the upcoming wave.  I made it through unscathed and quickly got transported north.  I can't remember ever going this fast in the ocean without being on a wave.

I eventually caught one in, over it.

8.22.14 Last Session in Nicaragua at Colorados; Trip Wrap-Up

I paddled out after not having surfed in seventy hours.  The surf took a turn for the macabre.  The day we were supposed to experience an uptick in swell we lost some size.  Then the day after that, the wind turned onshore for the first time all trip.

My ear was still clogged with Lord knows what but my back was all better, thankfully.

I paddled out with muted expectations and the surf met them.  I caught two or three waves that all closed out immediately and a left that while it was open, raced off without me.  I pumped along never gaining a step on the speedy whitewash.

I eventually decided to go in so as to make sure we were packed for the sixteen-hour trek back awaiting us.

~~~

While I won't go as far as to say I got skunked on this trip, it was not up to what I'd hoped.  My goal was to make one barrel and I think I got in six or seven, none of which were makeable.  I spent many hours watching the waves while eating and I think I saw two dudes make barrels, including chandeliers. 

The El Niño conditions have left Central America in a drought and the rivermouths aren't performing up to snuff.  The swell was also affected, as it is common for the surf to not drop under 4' for months at a time during S swell season.

The almost-trip-encompassing offshore winds left me slackjawed.  I didn't know such a place existed that gets waves.  Sure, North Shore is offshore during Kona winds, but these Nicaraguan winds were a trip.

El Salvador and Nicaragua are practically neighbors.  Their borders don't touch thanks to Honduras getting in the way and the Gulf of Fonseca separating the two landmasses.  The countries seemed very different.  Now, it's not a fair comparison as I've spent almost two decades all told in El Salvador and ten days in Nicaragua, but here are the biggest differences.

The graffiti I saw in Nicaragua was religious.  I saw no signs of gangs (shirtless kids hanging out, etc).  Our driver says it's not a problem in Nicaragua as their police force is efficient.

In Nica, there were women going to the store by themselves on their mopeds/motorbikes.  I don't remember ever seeing that in El Salvador.

I saw VERY few soccer fields along the road.  When I asked the driver about it, he said baseball is more popular in the south of the country, but soccer prevails in the north.

The beach was clean in Nicaragua.  Yeah, there was the odd piece of litter, but because there isn't a coastal population center where we were, it was practically pristine.

The streets were also very clean, comparable to the States.  The driver said it was because people collect all recyclables to trade them in.  There was the odd burning of trash here and there, but everything seemed very clean.

At no point did I or my wife feel in danger.


I will definitely be back, especially considering how tenebrous the situation in El Salvador remains.  The set-up in Nicaragua is crazy from a potential standpoint.  Nicaragua is more expensive, but we also stayed in 4-star accommodations, I'd rather die than do that in El Salvador.

8.19.14 Panga Drops Redux

I started my walk early this morning, grabbing a Zucaritas (Frosted Flakes) "energy" bar.  Once I finally reached Panga Drops, I continued on.  I wanted to see why people were paddling out on the west side of the peak.

I realized it quickly.  I'm not quite sure how it works, but I probably shaved 100 strokes off my previous count.  All I could think of was that the lefts are less consistent than the rights and so I had fewer duckdives and less wave push to deal with.

I got out there and after about twenty minutes of perching, then slowly and incrementally paddling in, I caught a left.  It was steep and I went up to the top of the shoulder and laid into one of the most traversing slashes I've ever done.  The wave kept going, albeit a little fatter, and I tried to slam off the approaching section.  I went flying over my board.  In retrospect, with that ferocity, I should have tried an air.

I caught a right very late after someone outside of me pussed out at the last second.  I got hung up on the lip, then avoided a near-pearl as I felt the tip of my nose submerge for an instant.  I over-turned too far onto the shoulder.  I took a second to appreciate how fast I was going, then dug into a strong roundhouse cutback.  My plan was to bank off the foam and set up for the closeout section but I again went flying.

I felt the initial twinges of a belly rash forming so I went in.

8.18.14 PM SESSION Reversal of Fortune at Panga Drops

The waves out front looked absolutely dismal out at Colorado so I decided to walk up the beach to see if anything was working.

I knew Panga Drops might be an option, but from this angle and this distance it looked less than stellar.  Eventually I decided to walk the ten minutes to Panga Drops to at least check it out.

As I was about five minutes from arriving, I saw a guy on a right absolutely killing it.  He was pushing hard on the wave and the wave was pushing back in kind.  He was linking turns and seemed like he was having a blast.  My pace quickened.

My first assessment of the wave, before we arrived in Nicaragua, was that it was like Sunzal in El Salvador but with a weaker shoulder.  They had a lot of similarities.  Both are deep water spots requiring a long paddle.  Both have the clunking cobblestones noise when you duckdive.  Both are located at the western end of a natural bay with an expanse of beachbreak, then a rivermouth, then unsurfable rockiness.

Panga Drops has some attractive differences.  Its bathymetry somehow magnifies the swell to easily triple the size of the waves, compared to the surf around it.  It has easily 20% of the crowd Sunzal has, thanks to its distance from population centers. The lefts there break and work, which means there are multiple takeoff spots to further diffuse the crowd. 

I decided to count how many times I paddled before I was in the perch zone.  Can you guess how many?  Remember I was paddling out on a 5'10" so that ups it a bit.  If you guessed bout tree-fiddy you would be correct.  It took exactly 350 paddle strokes to make it out there.

I saw someone paddling around who seemed to be wearing a rash guard with the exact same colors as a stone cold ripper at Colorado, but it turned out to be a grom who was super amped.  Most waves he would stand up on, he'd get blown out the back by the wind.

Since this was my first time surfing here, I didn't know what to expect.  When what appeared to be a left popped up, I eyed it suspiciously for signs of a horrible closeout, like what you'd see at Sunzal.  The signs weren't there and as the wave began to rise with me I popped up, super late but really excited. 

I descended and had SO much speed, I did a long drawn-out cutback.  I pumped a couple of times then decided to kick out.  My angle wasn't severe on the kick-out, but I caught some air and lost my footing, landing somewhat sideways on the deck of my board.


I paddled back out and caught a right, and I as I did a slash on its wide-open face with more speed than I was comfortable with, I made the mistake of letting too much wind under my nose, throwing me off-balance, and sending me off the back of my board.

The amped grom had a comment for me: "At least you got the cutback in!".

A lot of time elapsed between this wave and the next one I caught.  It was another right.  On this one I made sure my weight was over my board and bottom turned with tons of speed.  I found my target and when I went to hit it I either hit a chop or caught air because my board became airborne for less than a second  and then POW, into the drink I went.

I spent the next forty-five minutes on the inside trying to catch one in. I saw the lady who served our breakfast paddle out with a couple of her friends on longboards.  I couldn't seem to catch anything so I had to do the paddle of shame and walk back.

It's definitely the best session I've had on the trip yet, though I'm hoping Colorado does its thing soon...

8.18.14 Crowds MIA at Rising Tide Colorados

This morning the waves looked the worst they've looked on a healthy rising tide.  This bummer was mitigated by the sight of only one other dude.  I thought about paddling out and perching RIGHT next to him just to see what face he'd make but I thought better of it.

The waves were as shifty as they've ever been. After paddling out near the long ago beached tree trunk I ended up in front of the pool area of the condo complex at which we're staying.

Buzz/Mark, the condo manager was out for his usual daybreak surf report photo-taking.  Obviously, I need to be a part of this hallowed Facebook ground.

My first wave/attempt was a right on which I got covered up and had a 1% chance of making it out.  Unlike what the Occupy Wall Street people may tell you, the 99% won out yet again.

I caught a left on which I did a risky pump in a very steep part of the wave and came away with A LOT of speed.  I went a little out on to the shoulder and was set on trying a roundhouse cutty, but nixed that idea, thinking I was too close to the foam.  I did an awkward slash and finished the wave poorly.

On my last wave of note, another left, I got a good pump in and then banked/floated the inside a couple of seconds later.

Injury Report: My left ear is still clogged despite a couple of Swim Ear infusions. It's been clogged nonstop for about five days.  My wife is getting annoyed at my repeated "What?"'s and "Huh?"'s.

My back is almost to 100%.  I'm getting a pretty sick looking bruise there as well as on my right tricep where apparently there was damage too.

8.17.14 PM SESSION A Little Better but...

I paddled out about an hour after the bottom of the low tide, thinking it would be a nice compromise of hollow waves and consistency. 

It being Sunday, theoretically, I'd be dealing with fewer people as Gringos go back to their lives and get revved up for the upcoming workweek.

This was definitely the case on this session.

There were two waves of note.

The first was a right on which I swore I could get barreled.  I dropped in and pivoted into a pigdog stance and immediately regretted it.  I had tons of speed but no barrel.  I had overshot it somehow.  I tried to stand up out of it but wasn't very smooth and ended up standing awkwardly as the wave faded.

I caught a longer left on which I pumped, did a small snap, then pumped again into a bonk/floater.  The whitewash had little push and I jumped down softly and again, awkwardly.

A guy asked me if I'd gotten some fun ones and I told him, "Not as fun as I'd like...!".  He laughed and said it was downright shitty.  I was surprised to hear such a scathing review but I admit I agree.  I know I touched on this on a previous post but it's crazy seeing offshore and sometimes hollow surf and considering it to be bad for surfing.  If you took a picture, you would say it's epic, but when you see it live and in motion it's downright bad.  It's the epitome of paradoxical.

8.17.14 Rising towards the High (Tide) Sunrise Session

Considering my experience the previous day, I decided to try higher tide again.

I paddled out and was again surprised at the relatively mellow power these seemingly nasty waves had underwater.  I wasn't manhandled once in the ninety minute session, and some of the waves pouncing on me looked beastly.  I know the tide is somewhat to blame, but in a session this long in El Salvador I can usually count on one shellshocking depth charge to inadvertently make me release my board underwater.

I thought I had a good line on a barreling left, but it was only a pause in the closeout.  I got into position and saw the lipline before I got barreled, then immediately pulled through the wave and out the back. There was no sense in risking injury for zero chance of a reward.

I got a right on which I pigdogged but the barrel was so narrow that I barely fit.  My millisecond of tunnel vision revealed a long chunk of lip throwing over, ruining any chance I had of making it.

I got a long left that turned fat pretty quickly.  I was struggling to stay on the wave.  When I finally reached the smackable section, I had to finesse it just to get any oomph out of it.  I got some, but I still faded off the back.

It's maddening to see what you long to see as a surfer (offshore, barreling waves) but it's practically unsurfable because of the speed.  When I spoke to the manager of the condo in which we're staying, he told me this is the worst year since he moved down from La Jolla in '09.  He said it was likely due to the lack of rain not making the rivers break out and form sandbars as well as what looked like an El Niño year.

8.16.14 Quick Closeout Session

My affected muscle (sounds dirty, I know) was feeling a lot better and I was ready to put it to the test.  As I walked up to the low tide surf I didn't like what I saw.  It looked remarkably flatter than earlier today, and what did show up almost immediately closed out.

I ended up catching two "lefts".  The first one closed out immediately.  The second one graciously allowed me one half-pump before imploding.

8.15.14 Trying out Low Tide Playa Colorados sans Crowd

I didn't surf this morning as the peak of the high tide was right at six.  A check around seven revealed about what I had expected, and seen the previous two high tide mornings.

Though I wasn't thrilled about low tide being just a minute shy of high noon, I would have to make a go of it.  The tropical sun appears to be directly overhead at this time of year, allowing for it to travel and cook anything unprotected with little filtering from the atmosphere. When the sun is more at an angle, it travels through more atmosphere and the radiation is more diffused.

Once that time came, I checked it and it was laughably shallow.  The few people who were out were getting stuffed into hopeless closeouts and those who weren't, were getting hung up on the lip and obliterated.  I decided to wait one more hour to see what would happen when the tide filled in just a tad.

There were guys surfing just to the east and farther to the west of our compound, and as I walked towards the westerners I saw a right that was undisturbed.  It was barreling hard and most likely unmakeable by a surfer of my skill level, but I just had to try.  This was my third full day here and I hadn't hit the low tide yet to test my mettle in its hollowness.

I was much more aware of the rip given my adventures bodysurfing the past couple of days, when the rip snagged me and put me out with the surfers.  I had a little bit of a worry in going back in while dodging the set waves that were pounding down as closeouts, but I was able to go in after about five minutes of fun.

A rip can be very useful in shuttling one out to the outside, but in closeout conditions, it can help split up the wave.  I lined up just east of the rip and about ten minutes in had a look at what would likely have been an incredible wave if I'd caught it.  It was a big left and I got that feeling of fear/excitement as it lifted me up, but ultimately I was denied and felt the needling pain of the lip water being blown back by the 10+ mph side/offshore wind in my face along with the pain in my heart.

Two or so minutes later I found a smaller left, descended slightly and ducked down.  Within a second of my stomping down I was in a dry barrel.  I was in there long enough to see the lip line I was eyeing unexpectedly join its barreling older sibling much too soon.  As I made this realization, the board was swept up from under me and I flew forward and into the water.

My adventures on the left had pushed me right into the rip, but I realized it quickly enough so as not to have to paddle back in too far.

I corrected my oversight and caught a right and tucked into a pigdog stance a bit earlier than I probably should have.  The lip enveloped me and then raced off ahead of me leaving me with no way out.

I tried again on a bigger right that seemed a little more open.  I don't remember exactly what went wrong on this one but I definitely remember what happened underwater.  While my board didn't fly into me, it very gingerly touched me on the outside of my right lat muscle and then the wave's energy compressed it extremely hard against my back.  The board then gained some forward speed and, as a goodbye kiss, the fin sliced me.

I came up and was in a lot of pain, but not so much that I thought I had to go in. I remember telling myself it was nothing and to stop being a pussy.  When I paddled it was excruciating.  I was already halfway out so I just went for one more.

In my haste to go in, I went on a wave on which I probably should have pulled back.  The wave was fine, but I was too late on it.   The steepness and the howling wind didn't help matters.  I didn't descend enough, but I had to make my move or get decapitated by the throwing lip.  I managed to get in there and got a sick view of the barrel, before getting wrapped up in the wall and tossed over the falls.  I did my uncontrollable guttural yell that is harmful in that it makes me use up air.  It usually happens when I'm going over the falls or when I'm in the air snowboarding and things went poorly.

Luckily, I surfaced unscathed and walked back to the pool where Raquel and Lucia were waiting.

I'm hoping tomorrow will be relatively painless and I'll be able to get out there at low-ish tide again.

My left ear is still stopped up and I'm now fearing I will need to get the swimmer's/surfer's ear surgery on it as it's not getting better.

8.14.14 PM SESSION More Sideshore High Tide Action at Colorados

I spent the low tide marveling at the hollowness of the waves, somewhat tempted to go out despite my wife's concern for my safety. She was tipped off by a guy who came in bleeding from the nose.  I heard him telling his buddy he hit the sandbar.  I was out there bodysurfing it for a little but didn't see his fateful right.  Some waves looked wide open and makeable, but I didn't see a single person make one which didn't bode well for my chances.  As of this writing the next day, my plan is to go for it JUST after the depths of the low tide, which should provide a bigger water cushion and better consistency.

I made plans to surf a couple of hours after the bottom of the tide thinking the barrels might be narrower but perhaps less racy and better percentage propositions.

While the waves were more open there weren't any makeable barrels out there, at least that I saw.  I caught a right pretty soon after paddling out and while I was contorted into my bottom turn I caught a glimpse of my shadow in the sprayed over water which looked styley.  I hit it well and the wave was over upon my descent.

I caught a meaty left, definitely the biggest on this trip and gazed at the lip line.  I knew it wasn't going to do anything but try to snap my neck as it was too thin a barrel for me to fit in. I did a standing island pullout and looked for another one.

No other waves of note blessed me and I beat feet back to the condo.

8.14.14 Bad Feeling turns to Relief turns to Tide-Hobbled Surf

I rounded the corner of the condo building and noticed too many people were on their way to the beach.  I was up early enough, but the head count looked like it would increase from yesterday's logjam.

As I reached the sand, Mark (manager of most of the condos), said there were twenty-three people in boats.  I shuddered.  As I paddled out, I saw a guy on a sponge wearing a backpack paddle out.  It was then I realized the twenty-three people were going on local boat trips to find less crowded surf. YES

The tide was coming off its extreme 10' peak and the surf reflected that.  I had one right on which I smacked it nice and high, then felt the wind and fatness of the wave conspire to fade me off.  I quickly shuffled my feet up towards the nose, then back down once I'd made to the descent point.  I did another smack and tried to shuffle up again but I was defeated.

I caught a left and had a good smack off the top.  I got hung up there and it turned into a floater from which I never descended.  I went in after about eighty minutes of water time, trying to save myself from the sun until the surf was worth it.

8.13.14 PM SESSION High Tide Bumpy Sideshore Colorados

The baby took a napping break and I was able to sneak out to get some more waves.  This time the tide was high and still rising.  The paddle-out was tough in that the waves kept coming at me, but when they hit me they were soft pats on the back.  It was during one of these duckdives I first felt the annoying water-stuck-in-my-ear feeling which plagued me throughout the session and still does now.  I blame it on the inflammation caused by the aforementioned ear infection.

Just after I perched a wave came and an older guy told me to go fo it.  It was a good-sized left and I was salivating.  It started off racy and I made it around the corner and found a section.  I hit it but didn't keep the board under me through the turn, causing me to splay out at the last part of the turn.

I raced another wave, this time a right, but couldn't catch up to it.  The sideshore wind had picked up and hampered my attempt at speeding towards the open face.

The waves were fat and getting lumpy thanks to the wind.  On top of that they were pretty shifty and difficult to catch.

I caught another left and was too high on it when it backed off slightly, leaving me out of the speed pocket and out of luck.

I paddled back towards Costa Rica and saw the guy who gave me the wave at the beginning of the session.  I thanked him for the wave as it's so rare to be given waves these days and wanted to make sure he knew it was appreciated.

I went in not long after so as not to get too much sun for so-so waves.

8.13.14 First Session in Nicaragua

Today this blog turns three.  In preparation for such a milestone, we spent the seventeen hours in the preceding days traveling from SD to Playa Colorado in Nicaragua.

I had the chance to surf last night but was content with pacing myself and not wearing myself out.  I was most concerned with not having prepared the skin at the bottom of my rib cage for the beating it will endure over the next few sessions, as well as a twin set of rashes on the undersides of my legs that I got from walking for too long in wet boardshorts; I know, real POW stuff.  Neither of those have been an issue as of this writing.

I managed to pick up an ear infection but I thought it was on the way down as it wasn't too much of a bother on the planes.

I was able to wake up before dawn and hooked up the leash to the board I had rented for my stay, a 5'11" Rusty rounded pintail.  When I headed down to the water I counted four other heads out, all from a panga anchored about 100 feet from the break.  The people began streaming out of the condo complex we're staying in and eventually there were way too many people out for the consistency of the waves.

I quickly caught two half-waves on which I had to bail right away due to their closing out, but then nothing.

I began one-quarter drifting, three-quarters paddling up the beach towards El Salvador.  The crowds were much thinner and I was eventually by myself.  The only problem is the waves were bad.  I paddled ALL the way to the south of the pack.

The waves were opening up quite a bit, but the head count was even less in my favor now. I vowed not to go in until I caught one.

After about twenty minutes, I caught a nice right and did two good snaps on it and one roundhouse cutty on which I scrubbed out in the wash. I was thrilled and relieved to have caught the wave and beamed with pride at the turnaround my sticktoitiveness had wrought.

8.7.14 Swell Shows Up, Snapping me out of my Surf Slumber

It had been a long time since I surfed, mostly due to lackluster swell issues.  Today, that changed, so I got out there.

I pedaled down to Harbor after being dissatisfied with what I saw at points south.

The waves were overhead and the crowd to meet them was as generous as the swell.

It took a lot of paddling before I caught my first wave.  It was at least head-and-a-half.  I caught it knowing it would close out within a few seconds, but wanting to get my surf legs under me.  I felt the power and it made me giddy with excitement, a feeling I hadn't felt in the water in a long time.

After forty or so minutes of paddling, I caught a right and did an ok snap on it.

Not much more happened, as I had to deal with the crowd and shifty waves.  I went in and pedaled home.

SUPER SESSION July 18, 1999, La Bocana, El Salvador: My Best Barrel EVER

It was fifteen years ago exactly today that I got the best barrel of my life.

Summer of 1999 was a special one for me.  I'd gotten a job the preceding Christmas delivering pizzas, which was a huge and very welcome change from the dread and monotony of busing tables.  I enjoyed going to work.  I would get in the early 90's Nissan pizza truck and, thanks to my portable tape player (which I hid under the seat so I wouldn't get in trouble), I would rock out on my way to Del Mar, Solana Beach, Rancho Santa Fe and throughout Carmel Valley.  It barely felt like work, and I was making and saving wads of cash.

When MiraCosta let out I had made arrangements to get all of my shifts temporarily covered (this way I wouldn't have to earn them back upon returning) and hightailed it to El Salvador.  I had booked a plane ticket leaving May 20th and returning August 12th, about twelve weeks. I brought with me a cool Sunset five-fin yellow board with red rails.  I had been surfing for less than two years at this point, and I could barely go backside.

Before I'd left, I reached out to the best-ranked El Salvador surfing site online.  I emailed the site's admin and said we should surf.  I met him and he seemed nice enough.  He had graduated from Liceo Frances (the French school) while I had gone to Escuela Americana.  What put me off about Condorito almost immediately was his extremely perverted way of speaking, the way he viewed women and treated them like they were there to serve him.  This is unfortunately a common attitude amongst middle-/upper-class people down there.

His unearned cockiness with the opposite sex was offset by something that floored me.  On the way back to the city the first time, a Sunday night, I sat quietly in the car while he drank in the weekly sermon.

When he met Pando they became fast friends and I was immediately ignored by Condorito and to a lesser extent, Pando.

I was not a victim in this "friendship".  On Sundays when Jaime, my former stepfather was at the beach house where Pando and co worked, he and I would take off and surf elsewhere.  I first surfed Kilometro 59 with him and caught my first real (VERY real) right there.

In the early afternoon of July 18, we drove to La Bocana.  I remember there were maybe eight heads out and a Gringo was surfing well.  In what is still my closest call, I duckdived my board, a 6'2" and a little thick (keep in mind I weighed MAYBE 130 at the time) as deep as I could as he started pumping on a wave.  As my foot began to descend into the duckdive, I felt the tiniest of nicks as his fin j u s t tapped the skin between the pad of my big toe and my left foot.  PHEW!

Later in the session, I saw a left coming and I went for it.  It wasn't huge, maybe head-high.  I paddled and struggled to get into it.  As I was crouching down on my front foot I was enveloped in the barrel, completely by accident.  The contrast between full tropical sun and sudden shade was wild. I saw Condorito paddle over the wave, shaking his head in disbelief and smirking.  I was really high in it and decided I needed to take a lower line.  I put some pressure on my heels and the extra speed brought me closer to the lipline and exultation.

As I exited the barrel, the lip hit me forcefully, but at such an angle that it wasn't catastrophic.  I watched as the wave joined with the right and began to closeout and I kicked my board out in front of me.  When I surfaced I let out a primal scream of sheer ecstacy, one that I have yet to apex.

We drove back to Jaime's house and on that particular night, I wasn't bothered by the hypocrisy of Condorito's personality juxtaposed against the raving evangelist crackling though the tinny speakers of his microbus.

7.18.14 Midday Beat the Heat Mini Sesh at NSide Oside Pier

My wife, mother-in-law, and daughter were in Encinitas for Story Time and errand running so I took the opportunity to do a session.  I was initially going to do my usual one mile jog.  I thought about going skimming instead, but the tide was still not high enough.  I decided to take the board down on my bike, and if it was unsurfable I could drop off the board and go for my jog.

The south side was bigger, but good luck finding a corner.  Every wave I saw detonated into a no-hope closeout.  I thought that as the tide continue to rise, perhaps my fortunes would shift, but I pedaled on.

I saw a glimmer of hope as a guy pumped away on a left, blasting into a no-chance fins-free turn.  Eventually I reached the end of The Strand (Oceanside's impression of a boardwalk) and circled around.  I saw another ok left, made a note as to what landmark it was in front of, then locked up the bike at NSide Pier.

As I was paddling out I saw quite possibly the most board control I've seen in the water.  A guy went right, towards the pier and did a CLEAN backside 360 air.  He rode away perfectly.  On another wave a minute or so later, he did a smooth 360 followed by a chop hop, while retaining speed.

The right was rife with rippers, so I let the current take me down to the left I'd spied.

My first wave was barely a wave, but I did get a little speed going before it closed out.

Another wave came, but this one had very little juice.

My last wave of the session was by far my best.  After initially almost stalling out up top, I descended, pumped twice, and did a solid smack with a good angle, riding away cleanly.

I had a work appointment to attend, so I bailed to give myself plenty of time.

7.17.14 More Pain than Pleasure at Pinnies

I hadn't surfed in a few days, and while I knew the tide would be at the absolute lowest for my session, news of the fortified swell made me pedal my bike down to the beach.

The first snafu came when I duckdived and immediately hit sand. My hands felt the sharp sting of an unsanded epoxy repair job.  A quick examination revealed red lines which I thought were cuts, but apparently I'd only cut through the first layer of the skin.

I took a closeout on the head shortly thereafter and was amazed at the power in these 4-footers.

All waves were closeouts.  I managed a half-pump on one which heaved over into an unmakeable barrel and sent me tumbling.

7.13.14 An Accidental Session of sorts at North Pinnies

My wife was out of town and took the baby with her (no, I didn't piss her off).  In my lost and confused state, I fell asleep on her pillow and my neck was a mess for several days.  I had planned on paddling around Oceanside Pier and possibly getting some interesting angles of it with the GoPro, but with my neck (and deltoid) in pain I wasn't about to do a kilometer+-long paddle.

I thought I'd just go paddle out and enjoy the warm water.  I wanted to prepare my ribcage and adjacent skin for our upcoming surf trip (read all about it HERE!), as coming in unprepared can lead to a nasty reaction/rash.  I always thought it was tender skin that led to a rash, but when I told Aaron about it in El Salvador he brought up that it could be the hair follicles in the area getting plucked and then irritated, which makes some sense.  Whatever it is, it SUCKS and can cost you a day or two of sessions if it gets bad.

I paddled out to the tiny conditions on my 5'10" Merrick.  I got barreled going both ways on the sets, both crabgrabs with no way out, but the absolute highlight of the session was as follows.

I had read about the anchovy excess off La Jolla a couple of days prior and that was my hypothesis for the literally thousands of birds that were out.  A few flew above me, nothing out of the ordinary.  Then white movement caught my eye and I looked down and saw liquidy guano mixing into the water less than two feet from me, an almost direct hit!  I was south of the frantic flock, but I ended up drifting/paddling into it.  Suddenly, the birds started divebombing and flying over me, at times.  I was in a bird hurricane and the high-pitched roar was wild.  I looked up and behind me as I paddled and remember thinking that if I squinted, they resembled bats flying out of a cave.

A couple of decent sets came in, bringing nothing but closeouts.  I saw a couple of birds get enveloped by the lip and tossed into water, something I'd longed to see my entire career but had evaded me until today.  These were not seagulls or pelicans or other normal seafaring birds so lack of experience may have been an issue.

I eventually took a shoulder-high closeout in.

7.10.14 Mourning the Passing of the Swell at Miniscule Tyson

I expected the waves to be small, but what lay before me as I made it around the corner to The Strand was ridiculous.  The high tide further muddled any energy that was in the water.

I almost didn't surf, but a set that was maybe waist-high gave me hope.  I paddled out and proceeded to paddle for, and struggle to stand up and stay on, five or so waves.  About a half hour into the session I caught a right on which I did a very lateral snap, careful not to overextend into the flats and lose all hope of making the inside connection to some juice.

Natch, it didn't happen.  I paddled out and "caught" a couple more waves and went in after I'd dismissed the session as a total loss.

7.8.14 Closeouts Galore Lead to Just One Golden Opportunity

Oside was doing its usual one-way water shuttle routine and I was game for a ride.  The waves were dropping in size, but the consistency was still pretty good.

I took off on several waves but there was nothing great.  I got an ok pump in on one but no payoff due to the close-out.

I saw what appeared to be yet another close-out and held out a sliver of hope that the corner that appeared to have formed would hold, leading me to make it around the section and finding some greenwater.  It did and I did.  I was able to decisively smack the section and descend.  In my hubris, I immediately rose up to do it again as the closeout section hit me and I lost control and tumbled down with the lip.

I went in for daddy duty not long thereafter.

7.6.14 Swell Continues its Assault

I didn't put a spot name in the title of this post because I paddled out south of Wisconsin Street and went in, after about an hour, at the pier.  It's not the fastest I've traveled on what I call the longshore express, but it was getting close.

As a first, I was accompanied by Raquel, Lucia, and Chucho on my walk down to the water and they watched me paddle out.  I walked south to counteract the effect of the current. By the time I perched, they were distant figures set against the morning sun's glare.

The waves were coming in at a pretty extreme S angle.  Five or so degrees more to the south and it would've bypassed SD County completely (may still have hit Point Loma though).  I caught a quick left and I kicked out immediately, as what little corner I thought I had failed to open up.  The waves were coming in fast and strong, and with this angle that leads to a very sectiony, almost always unmakeable experience.

The highlight of the session by far was a wave I caught late.  I pumped, made it around the section and found a great spot and SMASHED it.  As I came up a grom made eye contact with me and smiled.

Once I got too close to the pier I was over it.  The option to paddle through the pier isn't a good one with this much water moving around. Add in all of the Sunday morning fishermen's lines out, it's extra treacherous. I thought about going in and paddling out farther south but I just didn't have the time to do so.

7.5.14 PM Session at Big and Burly S. Pier

I didn't get to surf this morning, and I checked the swell report and it claimed we were at 4-6'.  I found a window during which my wife would be ok being alone with the baby.

It was so hot, that there was no  question I'd be trunking it.  I walked down barefoot and paddled out JUST north of the blackball flag and watched as a sea of swimmers were being  herded towards the blackball and away from the red flag, where they're not allowed.

The waves were almost empty, an amazing feat considering it's a holiday weekend with really warm beach weather.  Considering the sheer number of bodies in the sand it was even more unbelievable.

I caught a couple of waves, one of which teased me by opening up slightly before slamming shut.

The two lefts sped me along the longshore express towards the pier.  When I got there I stayed there for the rest of the session.

The waves began to get bigger and I was excited, but it was difficult to enjoy the occasion as there was so much water moving around.  I had to paddle quite a bit to keep from being wrapped up in people's translucent fishing lines, then watch for a bomb set to come through while hoping I don't get too close to the pier while fighting the underwater turbulence.

The highlight of my session is the nastiest pearl I've undertaken (*SNORT*) since Lord knows when...

I paddled for a wave that turned out to be neither a right nor a left.  I was late on it.  I decided to go because I was sick of the monotony of paddling.  I got hung up on the lip, but I stepped on the gas by slamming my weight onto my front foot.  I airdropped and fell so fast and so hard that I didn't realize what had happened until I was underwater.  I literally fell faster than the speed of thought.  I was lucky that my board didn't slam into me.  I hit the bottom, but nothing too bad.  I came up after about eight seconds, gathered my board and paddled back out.

My last wave was a smaller, slightly more defined version of the previous wave.  It was a big right.  I took it and was content to go in and avoid the gauntlet.

When I got home I found out Raquel had been cooking dinner and doing laundry while watching the baby.  It's almost as if she knew I would mention it in the blog...

7.4.14 Not Quite as Good as it Looked at NorWisc

The waves were small, about waist- to chest-high, but they were CLEAN!  I was salivating at the session that lay before me.

For a major holiday, it was a ghost town.  I perched and caught the first few waves without anyone near me.  That soon changed, and by the time I left the water the waves had exceeded critical mass.

I caught my usual couple of no-way-out closeouts, but I got a good luck at a left with a corner.  I pumped a couple of times and as I was towards the waning stages of my bottom turn the lip surprised me by arriving early.  I was able to get on top of it but could not convert.

Since the tide was so low, a lot of the inside waves were closing out, but not before providing an oasis for the eyes.  If you squinted, cocked your head just right, and suspended disbelief, you could talk yourself into thinking you could get tubed and doggy-door out of it.

I caught a left and switch crab-grabbed.  A rush of water smacked me in the face, but I was still in, I was about to open my eyes when another rush of water followed, and that was the end of it.  It felt like I had some room in there but there was no way for me to tell if the lip had long ago left me behind.

The highlight of the session was the lone right I caught, which is interesting giving the severity of the angle of the S swell and its penchant to crank out higher quality lefts than rights.  I dropped in and my footing was a bit off, I was too far starboard.  I bottom turned and hit a section late, so late that it was capping off in front of me.  I banked off the lip and section that was just breaking and threw a nice flume of spray.  I descended again but in my enthusiasm to do it again, I came up too quickly and my off-balance footing couldn't take it.

I went in shortly thereafter.

7.2.14 Crappy Windblown Mavs

I almost didn't surf today.  It looked pretty bad and just as I was turning the bike around to head home, a set came.  Compared to its underachieving predecessors, it looked marvelous.

I paddled out right where I saw the set.  I was all alone.

The tide was low and the wind was picking up, a bad combination for a beachbreak.

I caught two waves of note.  The first was a left on which I got some speed but not enough to make it around light-years ahead of me section.  The second was a successful connection, but just as I was going for one last superpump before attacking the closeout section the bottom fell out from under the wave and I pearled.  I hit the bottom pretty softly, but it was jarring to feel it, as I had not expected it.

6.26.14 Miscommunication Cripples Slump Buster at South Wisconsin

My wife's work is super busy during the summer.  When she is on a conference call, I can't surf.  When she has to go on a trip, I'm going with her.  The vast majority of the destinations are places where it's very difficult or very uninviting to surf.  This month we went to Oakland, but took a little pre-work mini trip to SF.  The closest I got to surfing was mind-surfing the set-up at Fort Point, just beneath the Golden Gate. There were no waves, but I visualized the NW swell wrapping around and refracting into a barrel.

When we finally came home, the waves and Raquel's schedule alternated in making sure I stayed dry.  I got a couple of great skimboarding sessions in, as that's something you can have fun with on any peak of a high tide, but no paddle time.

That finally came to an end on this morning.

I decided to stick to the nether, south of Wisconsin, waves due to the not-so-great quality-to-crowd ratio elsewhere.

I paddled out and I didn't have a chance to perch before I caught my first wave.  I pumped and pumped, and it was a little flat at first, but then bared its teeth.  I saw a ramp and I launched enough to release my fins but had too much weight on my heels to land it.  Still, not a bad way to restart my surf career...

I caught another wave that seemed to have a shoulder, but as I ascended with the intent of eviscerating the lip took its sweet time and the adjacent wall lacked oomph.  I turned with very little speed and sent a rooster tail with the thinness of an eleven-year-old Indian boy's moustache.

The last wave I remember catching was a steep, racy one that flattened out.  Just before it flattened out, I prematurely decided to lay into a roundhouse cutback.  The section was too steep for it and I turned it into a carve which felt awkward.

I mixed up the times and couldn't remember if I had to be back home by 730 or 9, but rather than risk Raquel's wrath (and her colleagues being showered with baby noises), I cut my session short.   It turned out the 730 call was for the next day.  Bummer.

6.5.14 Only Dude Trunking it at Mavs

I was greeted with a couple of dozen bobbing heads whose bodies were enveloped in black neoprene.

I was on my seldom surfed 5'11" CI thruster.  I made a point to go a little away from most of the crowd.

The crowd was made up of some familiar faces.  From sessions past I spotted smily mustachioed Filipino dude and Peroxide Pat, whose bright hair reflects glare rivaling that of the sun.

I managed to snag my share of waves.

I got a left on which I made it around the initial section, but when I bottom-turned I had a brain fart and quickly ran out of wave. I was about twenty percent of the way through the turn when I was up and over.

I caught a couple of other lefts which either closed out on me or I immediately kicked out on, not in the mood for a no-way-out crab grab barrel.

The absolute highlight came on an A-Frame nugget.  I was a little too deep on the left, so I went right.  I had a glorious view of the wave opening up to me.  I rose and absolutely smashed the lip.  I got hung up on it for so long I thought I was going to fade off the back, but I made it back down, out of runway.

After about a half-hour (the surf report said the water temp was 62, which seems about three degrees too low), I got cold and bailed.

6.4.14 Short Trunk-It Sesh at Miramar

I was on limited time, and I was aching to surf.  I was on my way to check Harbor due to the low tide when I suffered what could kindly be described as technical difficulties.  I went from the street to the sidewalk so I wouldn't be in the way of the car turning right behind me.  I didn't jump the curb or do anything crazy, I took the curb cut up and out of the corner of my eye I caught my surfboard literally nosediving.  My adrenalin kicked in and I opted against reaching for it, as my mind made a snap decision that could lead to me crashing (it would have been the best course of action in hindsight).

I steered the bike so it was right on the edge of the sidewalk and applied the brake.  I watched helplessly, or so it felt, as the nose of my board skidded in the grass and dirt to my right.

I surveyed the damage and the board was scratched but not dinged.

I stuffed the horizontal bar as best I could and continued on my way, with one hand on my board.  I nervously went down Seagaze towards the "boardwalk", not an easy task while holding the bike steady with one hand while engaging the coaster brakes.  I stopped when I saw some waves and fiddled with that damn loose bar.  After a solid minute, I had it in there well and tight. 

I rode all the way to Harbor and that looked worse than I'd seen when I was pulled over.  What caught my eye was the lefts off Mira Mar street.  On my way back from Harbor, I pulled in and anchored my bike to an ancient taxpayer-subsidized bbq grill.

I paddled out to a completely empty lineup. I was reminded on this paddle-out, my first sans wetsuit one in almost nine months, how much easier it is to paddle without a wetsuit.  Normally when I paddle out, my arms start burning towards the end of my journey past the waves.  I felt so free.  I wonder if this is how women feel when they go braless...

My first and best wave happened less than thirty seconds after perching.  I dropped down the initial steep section and rounded the corner.  I snapped it well, then descended.  I pumped once or twice to make the connection and once I did, I was rewarded with a soft section of the right meeting me.  I tapped it so as not to overdo it but my fins lost purchase in the foam.

I caught a couple of others, both closeouts, then bailed.  I had an early appointment to get to.