Upon the Horizon, I See the Waves Risin'
February 11 to 19, 2004

Majagual… a surfer's paradise. A 20 minute drive from San Juan del Sur through dusty country roads, and dry forested regions takes you to a string of small bays, with white sand beaches, totally secluded to the outside world. We stay at "Bahia Surf Resort" only one of two places you can actually stay at since there are no other buildings, houses, or motels anywhere near.

Hidden on the inside edge where the forest meets the beach is our touch of heaven. A huge thatch roof hut with a bar, restaurant, and hammock chairs serve as central operations. There are dormitory style accommodations, and camping, along with cold showers and a laundry sink. Jewellery makers, backpackers, full time surfers, beach bums, weekend voyagers, old timers, other resort owners, fishermen, and locals, all complete the aura of Majagual.

first day at majagual

bahia surf resort

One thing common among them all is they all seek the sun and surf and here there is plenty. The pace of life is absolutely slow. A few people sit at the bar drinking a beer, while a few pairs sit at the tables enjoying a chicken and rice lunch. A couple people swing in the hammock chairs, while a couple people look at the necklaces spread out on a large mat. Also one thing common among them is the stare. The comatose stare that the sun, heat, waves, beers, tents, rice, vacation, and seclusion in a vastly remote heavenly setting all converge to create. Thought is slow here. Action limited. For there is no need to rush except two times in the day. That is at 6 am and 4 pm when the swell starts hitting the beach and the surfing begins. Other than that, only a selected few tasks can be accomplished in the scorching sun. But in Majagual why would you want to do anything else anyway.


majagual
where we stay at for 7 days
barely seen in the middle is bahia surf resort
or just paradise whatever you want to call it
I awake at 6 am with a few knots in my back. Our tent rests on hard ground with no mats underneath. It is dark, quiet, and the wind blows steadily. It takes effort to get out of our tiny survival tent in which there is no room for extra movement. I yawn. Look up at the dark blue and silvery morning sky. Go to the washroom to brush my teeth. Head back to the tent to wake Mitch up. Mitch brushes his teeth. We have our shorts on and most always shirts off. By now, with 5 weeks into the trip our skin is golden brown and finally looking as if we have "been there done that." I tie my red MEC surf shirt onto my waist while Mitch grabs his tight black Banff Airporter T-shirt. We grab our surfboards, and begin the trek around the bays to the surf spot.

The walk takes us 15 minutes through a series of bays. No one is behind us or ahead as we find out later. We are the early birds. Along the primary stage of the walk through the "Enchanting Forest," we must pull a covert mission passed the "Wasp Terrorists," who fly low and attack with vengeance. The Howler monkeys can be heard in the distance. We walk by a massive, grey Toyota Landcruiser with yellow 1995 Camel Trophy stickers. Sweet! With blood racing in excitement of the forthcoming, we step onto the wind swept "Sand Dunes of Nirabia" where the wind generates psychotic whips of sand that belt every part of the body, especially the face and somehow the teeth. It feels like a desert storm. Onto the "Shallow Shale Highway," a tight, narrow rock sedimentary that takes us around the corner into another bay. Finally we must step carefully over and in between the gigantic "Hermit Crab Metropolitan." It is now 6:20 am. Alas! Madera and surfs up!

enchanted forest look out for the wasps!

during one hitchhike, mitch and i got a ride yeeeah baby!

shallow shale highway

hermit crab metropolitan

The first day the water was quite chilly, followed by warm currents that delivered a much more pleasant surfing medium. We strap our board leash and run to the waves. The sun just breaks from behind the mountain, and the wind blows offshore as it almost always seems to do here. The swells are nicely spread apart. We ride them well like lonely soldiers who just came back from the war.

First blasting off the power point, slipping down the curl, carving away from the break, and then grinding toe side, but unable to turn back. Turning back for a second carve proves to be the next challenging step in our surfing careers. It is unbelievable, surfing at 6:30 am without the need for a 5 mm wetsuit with hood, gloves, or booties. The freedom makes you so versatile. Your wet hair is slightly dreaded from the sand in the water and weeks of no washing, and flaps over your eye as you stare back judging the swell and looking for an opportunity to blast out of the chamber. Surfing down here makes you feel like you are Kelly Slater. I look at Mitch, and in his wet black Banff Airporter shirt with the tail of his dragon tattoo sticking down below his sleeve, he looks like the army General from Apocalypse Now. Then as I catch his attention by a "What's up bra!" he begins imitating a navy seal hiding from oncoming enemy fire by looking around with paranoia and then rolling over and under his surfboard with his feet, hands, and fin visible on top. Then he waits for about 15 seconds, motionless, before reappearing!

The ocean serves us a full course meal of gourmet breaks, before we head back to Bahia to take one of three likely cold showers that day, and a real breakfast, all before 9:30 am.

The rest of the day is spent lazily escaping the heat and inflicting rays. The second day I must head back to San Juan del Sur to exchange my 6' 8" bullet (pointy nose) surfboard for something a little more forgiving. Supposedly there is a 7 ft waiting for me. I start on my adventure back to town, with a pre-conceived notion that I will not spend money to get there and back. The whole day is ahead of me and paid transport runs steep around these parts. With my surfboard under my shoulder I set out back again over the sand dunes and rocks to the bay of Madera. In Madera I wait patiently for a ride but no one seems to want to leave. I have a mission, and I will complete it. So I set out on the long trek to town. A truck drives passed me after 5 minutes of walking but doesn't stop. Then around the bend I come upon the guy with one hand on the steering wheel, door open, and taking a leak at the same time. I walk passed him, and he shouts for me to get in. He drops me off at the junction, still a good 2 hours walk from town in this kind of heat. It is sweltering, like a roasting oven at 400 degrees.


hitchhiking to exchange boards
I wear my white shirt as a turban and only end up waiting about 5 minutes before another truck picks me up. The spontaneous and unplanned series of rides I receive prove to be the reason why I set out on foot in the first place. When you travel these things are bound to happen. And they make you feel so good when you end up saving 50 Cordobas ($3 US) at the end of day when you have gone to town and back, spent 4 hours under a sizzling tropical death squadron of a sun, but done it all by having spent nothing! I am dropped off at another junction and walk across gravel paths, beach front, and through town. I am exhausted and dehydrated already, but I keep my stride.

I arrive at the surf shop. There is a board waiting for me there. It has a radical black and white airbrush painting of a skull type "Grim Reeper" as I like to call it. This board is sick. It makes me look badass! This thing needs to be tamed and I have been the chosen one. The painting makes the whole journey into town all worthwhile. I head back to Majagual with no desire to be in San Juan del Sur.


grim reeper joins the team
San Juan del Sur is a fishing community, surf town, and a tourist hotspot nestled inside a beautiful bay with sheer cliffs along the outer perimeter. The air is clean, and the people laidback. However, there is no surfing here, just rentals, and besides, Majagual is secluded and makes you feel like you are at the end of the world inside your own dream glass ball.

I walk another 30 minutes to the road. Three kids on a tiny four-wheeler stop to ask me if I want a ride; one sits on the front rack, one drives, and one sits on the back rack. I get on the back with the other kid. This thing is so overloaded! But its third world styles baby! We ride bouncing over potholes and laughing as the tip of my board catches in the wind and violently sways away from me as I try to desperately hold on. After struggling for a while with the wind, the kid in the front grabs and holds the tip for me. I am dropped off on the Majagual road, unknown to the fact that I am still one hour walk away from Bahia Surf Resort. During this walk I nearly die. By now the weight of the surfboard is proving to be a menace. I am so dehydrated. I feel like a dried up prune, an overdone turkey, and a piece of salty beef jerky. My vision is hazy. The horizon shifts. The road appears like a liquid mirage. My temples hurt.

someone's home on the way back from san juan del sur stopped to take rest during walk

i don't know man... but there's some pretty weird lookin' trees around here these parts i'd say

I think of "Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin. I march forward held in the contempt of heat with white pasty saliva and dry chalky lips. The air suffocates me, holding my throat at ransom. After stopping under several shady patches, I arrive at Bahia. Suffering for The Grim Reeper makes it all worth it.

In the afternoon at 4 pm, we head out again to the surf.

madera (surf spot) as you look LEFT

as you look RIGHT

Each time we surf well through the sunset. A collage of intense orange and red smudges across the horizon capturing our spirit. It is magical to be out in the waves at this time. A wave passes and breaks, with the offshore wind making a fierce spray of water like a jungle rainstorm scatter across the surface. As you carve in this warm water and vivid sundown, you feel most alive and at peace with yourself and the world around you. Slowly, the sky overturns to an erotic cobalt blanket. One by one each surfer leaves when it is their time. You walk out of the crashing waves, and try to find your sandals in the darkness, stashed somewhere by the rocks. Head back to Bahia, take a cold shower, order a meal, order a drink and sit by the fire. The next day, you do it all over again.


waiting for the afternoon sets to arrive...


endless summer