Crossing Baja After Hours

The trip computer on my GPS told me that we had less than 45 minutes until the sun set. We had departed Catavina (a desolate town in the middle of what can only be described as a desert oasis) earlier that afternoon. We were looking forward to a few days in yet another isolated area, this time on the eastern side of the Baja peninsula. However, what awaited us was beyond anything we might have imaged. With less than an hour to plan and execute our escape, Kyra, my father and I mulled over our options, stopped for fuel and hit the highway headed inland… again.

Baja Bound

Before we leave for Baja at the end of October, Kyra and I have a lot of logistics, equipment and other shit to sort out. A month in Mexico aboard small dual-sports is no easy feat, and so in an effort to organize our accessories I put together a different sort of duds - one absent of surfing stuff. I'm sure some of you would love to give me shit since I haven't been surfing this summer, but all this Baja business is taking up a lot of my time and energy, and to be honest, it's been rather nice not worrying about waves. Because dirt bikes are always awesome, and they certainly won't skunk you on a Sunday. It's a different addiction, no doubt - petrol replacing peelers - but it's been beneficial, not spending my weekends searching for surf, allowing other activities to occupy a similar space. So with that said, take a look at some of the stuff we'll be taking with us on our #WESTx1000 adventure.

Quite the Conundrum

So, we're in a bit of pickle. Ready to return to one of the most amazing places in Mexico, we've run into a road block. Our friend is in the Air Force, and right now she is unable to travel to that particular part of the Mexican mainland. Unfortunate, yes, but not the end of the world. We just need to find somewhere else to surf. Where there's warm water and whatnot. Sounds simple. How about Hawaii, or why not Nicaragua? Yes, those are also awesome, but the more I look at our alternatives, the more I want to go back to where we were last winter.

That long left. Breaking slowly over a rock reef. Fifteen feet from our front door. Which, I might add, did a damn fine job of keeping out all kinds of critters. We'd wake up early and look out the little window in the kitchen to see how big the waves were. After drinking a big cup of instant coffee and eating a brown banana, we'd slip into our shorts, er, a Seea suit in Karissa's case, and proceed to paddle all the way out to the point - which will feel like five miles after the first three or four days.

The wave begins breaking about fifteen-hundred feet from shore. Maybe more. One wave will take awhile, but you'll be grinning like an idiot while you paddle back to the point. And so therein lies our issue; where the fuck do we go from here?! Where can we find a wave - long and left, soft and slow - that is as easily accessible? Where there's warm water and cheap beer. Where the people aren't pretentious and hammocks hang from the front porch and you eat avacados and eggs every afternoon. We're exploring other options. But we'll need to go back. Because there really isn't anywhere else that can compare.

Maybe Mexico: Part Three

Karissa made quite a big breakfast this morning. Scrambled eggs, onion, peppers, potatoes... She split an avacoado and buttered some bread. Damn, it was delicious. After a couple of cups of coffee - belly full to the brim - I put on a pair of Katin traditional trunks, the black rashguard I bought at a dive shop in Seattle, and paddled out. A little late to the lineup. Eight or nine people already out. It’s been small the last few days; nehi soda with the occassional shoulder high set. There was little to no wind and lots of waves that won’t make you miss home.

Maybe Mexico: Part Two

An early evening allowed us to got outta bed a bit earlier. First thing on Friday. In the water around eight. No time to eat. There’s a four or five hour window without wind, as we’ve learned, so it's best to be out early. Funny, but I felt cold for the first time in four days. Water was warm, but that breeze will keep you cold - cold being relative of course. Mike and Tracy's 40th wedding anniversary was the next night. A pretty big party. In a pretty big house above the beach. Million plus with a pool. It was an opportunity to meet and eat with a lot of interesting people. The ever infamous Corky Carroll being one of them.

Maybe Mexico: Part One

Warm water will wake you up. Not in the traditional sense; eyes wide open, oxygen in and out, attentive. No, not like that. Warm water stirs the soul. A big brown wooden spoon, turning you round and round. Mixing. Like a Kitchen Aid with all those extra attachments. What a wonderful thing - just ask your wife. This was my first time surfing sans wetsuit in three or maybe four years. Not since an October excursion to Honolulu. This time, though, the trip took us somewhere south. Across a border and into another country. Maybe Mexico.