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Feral Green - from the southland
By admin | September 6, 2007
We finally crossed the boarder on September 1st. We stayed near the beach in Rosarito where a wild Labor Day party was raging all around us. The Curs barked and the feral cats whined, but nothing could keep us from sleeping. We’d worked from 8am to 4am for several days leading up to our departure.
We felt like newborns on our first morning in Mexico. We didn’t have an agenda or any experience. Therefore we decided to drive down to Punta Canoas, a surf spot we knew pretty much nothing about. What we did know was that we had to go off-road to get there. We found out after five hours of off-roading that I have a bad sense of direction, and our four maps showed different roads in different places, none too accurate. After five wrong turns resulting in a total of nine extra miles, we finally ran into two caballeros (cowboys). They rode up and told us where to go, thankfully. The sun was getting ready to set, and according to one of our maps we still had twenty four miles to go. However, the other maps showed between thirteen miles and no road at all, so we basically had no idea what lay ahead.
It got dark before we could see the ocean, and judging by the amount of traffic we’d seen on the way in, we thought it was safe to just stop and camp. The next morning our luck seemed to be improving. Eric thought he heard the ocean; we were closer than mother-of –pearl to white. We packed up and jumped in the car. It didn’t start. We were magenta. Luckily Guadalupe, a local fisherman, came over and gave us a jump. The labyrinth of dirt roads was unmarked and disorderly, but Guadalupe told us the ocean was one kilometer away. We got to our first surf spot just three hours later after eight more wrong turns.
For the next three days we saw as many people as Ray Charles sees at the bakery. The surf was a good beach break that ran for miles. The sets were head-high to overhead and El Hongo (Eric Paine) was in heaven. He was getting barrels on our new fish, it was all lefts, and he’s the only goofy foot in the group. Other highlights of El Hongo’s trip thus far include but are not limited to, making amazing salsa verde from scratch, beating Kevin at RPS (Rock Paper Scissors) for sleeping spots and washing dishes, and getting ring worm. Ring worm is a minor fungus, which in Spanish is pronounced “El Hongo,†thus his new nickname.
Sean’s new nickname is Schteve for no particular reason. His injured knee seems to be improving faster than he runs from the cops, and his surfing got better and better every day. Sean also won liars’ dice for sleeping arrangements and hasn’t lost at RPS for washing dishes yet. He’s also the only one with the skill to drive our truck right now, because the brakes’ cylinder is out. However, the cylinder took a turn for the worse after
Sean advised Kevin to drive off the dirt road over a hill. Sean thought it would be safer, but the truck started drowning in loose dirt before becoming completely high-centered.
We were thirty miles from the beach and twenty miles from the nearest town, so we started digging the truck out. After doing a mediocre digging job we hooked the winch up to a tree. Unfortunately the tree could be seen more easily out the driver side window than the windshield. We were towing ourselves sideways when the bead of our front left tire popped off, deflating the tire and rendering it as useless as a Bruce Willis in a Rogain commercial. Crap.
Unbelievably, not one, but two separate trucks of fishermen stopped to help us. All eight pescadores stayed and helped us for two and a half hours. They used the extra wood we had to set up a system to jack the front of the truck way up, change the tire and drag us back down the hill. We gave them a bunch of gear from Tavik and Slime, a bit of cash, and said adios.
So far everyone we’ve talked to has been helpful, resourceful, and magnanimous. Without the help of the locals of Baja California Norte, we’d be marooned in the desert right now.
In other highlights, Kevin stood up several times on his tabla de surf (surfboard) and is clearly a fast learner. He is also good luck concerning the swell. Every time he gets a big, thick, difficult-to-duckdive board under him, a huge set comes in. Sean, Eric, and I wait like jockeys in the gates, sitting on our boards, for Kevin to come out. It’s not great for Kevin, as he gets thrashed over and over, but what the hell. Kevin also loves to hunt and fish, so he would go out in the zodiac to fish with anyone at anytime.
His first trip out, with Sean, started well. They put the motor down and charged the oncoming waves. The problem is that the boat is old, missing half the floor boards that stabilize it, and has a hole that continually oozes water. So at thirty yards, when they barely made it over a wave that almost sent Sean into the deep unknown, I was relieved… until I saw the wave at fifty yards that was twice as big. Kevin didn’t hesitate for a second. He shot them straight up an overhead monster. The entire boat went airborne, Sean did a superman number, barely gripping the boat with his right hand, while his entire body flew into the air like Andre the Giant had dropkicked him. Kevin got them through it but caught nothing. His second trip, with Eric, was a total 180. They got out smoothly and caught lunch and dinner, along with a few bait fish to dangle on the line. The third trip, with me, we didn’t even attempt to fish. We cruised around with the dolphins, which were everywhere. They were drawn to the sound of our motor.
Unfortunately the fog filled in while we tried to pet the dolphins, playing a sort of footsy with them, and we couldn’t see the shore. I mistakenly thought I could see the truck and directed Kevin in to barren unknown landscape. Fantastic. Luckily for us, this beach caught the swell extremely well, so the waves were huge without any downtime between sets. On our third attempt we made it out. The first was a disaster, and the second almost lost us the motor. Luckily Kevin is gutsy and kept charging after we’d been sent airborne three waves in a row. Needless to say, we made it back.
Right now were fixing the tire and the brakes in Guerrero Negro. Hopefully we’ll be back on the road soon, but the way things are going so far, all I can say is – this trip is already truly feral. August 6th - 3:15pm – Bill - out.
Topics: Mexico |
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