Pescadero

Pescadero was exactly what I was looking for when I came to Mexico. I imagined beach camping directly in front of a wave, sunrise out on the water and enough waves to go around. 

My journey was circuitous; I left a day late from the states. Missing my flight worked out. I spent the day sleeping off the sickness that snuck up on me the day of my planned departure. To avoid missing the next flight I stayed up all night playing Catan with my buddies. If you haven't played I highly advise it. Settlers of Catan is the perfect platform to burn up 21st century tension by trading, conquering and expanding your settlements. We've coined it hippie monopoly. 

Arriving in Mexico was the equivalent to a travel nightmare but I was in too high spirits to care. The contents of Alaska flight 626 were disgorged onto the roasting tarmac. After dodging multiple vehicles I finally made it to a non-descript door where I was ushered into the terminal. After passing an employee checking air conditioning ducts I progressed headlong into a thicker and thicker stream of humans. Promptly the human river came to a standstill at the top of a two story set of non-functioning escalators packed to the brim with vacation bound North Americans sporting shirts like "Cabo Fiesta 2017" and "Tequila, Fiesta, Siesta, Repeat." Two hours later I passed customs and was greeted by my intact surfboard. I was so grateful that I hollered and kissed my bag. On further inspection it took a small ding but nothing to complain about.

I managed to find public transit in a sea of mini-buses and taxis and began my bus hopping to Pescadero. I was deposited in the dust in a sleepy little town. I found a winding road leading to the coast and trudged towards the setting sun. About three quarters of the way two expats pulled up in their Tacoma and gave me an incredulous look, followed by. Hop in! They gave me a sandy piece of board wax and pointed me towards the free camping. The sun had set and it was getting dark, I was tired and looking for a place to crash. I figured that by walking to the end of the beach I might find a secluded nook. As I passed a camper van a voice yelled out, ¨Did you just arrive?¨ I answered with the affirmative and they quickly followed with, ¨Want some rum!?¨ They were Canadian, and dawn would show me that the majority of license plates were from British Columbia.

            The next morning I was the first one out in the water. The waves were heavy and thick, once people showed up, the vibes were unheard of. Everyone cheering each other on as they dropped into the heaving behemoths. I was shaky and nervous but managed to pull into a couple nice waves over the course of the morning. The best part: my handmade board performs like a dream!