Southern Baja: Part 7

Evidently, I had been a good boy- the surf was chest to head high, the wind was offshore and the water was crystal clear. At daybreak, I was out there!

Merry Christmas!

For a couple of early hours, it was just me and these two guys. The two buddies were camping out of a Toyota Previa fan, surfing weird boards, playing guitar and basically establishing themselves as the kings of their world. We shared waves and smiles, they chose to surf way up the point and here they are paddling back from a couple of long ones. Myself, I'm kind of sneaky, when someone wants the top of the point, I know there are great waves going unridden further down the point- so that's where I went.

Right out in front of our little campsite- open and empty.

I've been traumatized by my mom. Every Christmas she would play a couple Christmas albums and I can't shake two of those songs from my head. One is "Blue Christmas" by Elvis, the back up singers make the weirdest cooing sound on that track. I hate it. The other album had all kinds of wacky songs on it- wacky meaning traumatic. The leader of that hideous hit parade was a gem called something like, "All I want for Christmas (is my two front teeth)". I remember the cover of that album (some kid who was a hybrid cross between Alfred E. Newman and Opey wearing a jaunty Christmas cap with his mouth open to show his bright new chompers.... just thinking about it makes me feel all dirty inside). So, appropriately on Christmas morning this little refrain played through my skull again and again..."All I want for Christmas is my full wrap around, my full wrap around... and I would wish you Merry Christmas!"

Of course, to complete a perfect morning (which also included a delicious spam and egg breakfast prepared by Dakotah and a mug of hot black coffee waiting for me at the campsite) there were some gifts, all from my dog Lilly, waiting for us/me.

I was stoked, what a great way to spend Christmas! In fact, spending Christmas Eve around a beautiful beach campfire and surfing Christmas morning is my idea of a perfect Christmas. Well, I was also given a sweet new coffee mug- covered with pictures of West Highland White Terriers (my girl Lilly is a Westy) which blew this year's Christmas's ranking into the stratosphere; it's the small things I tell you, that's what matters. The surf might not have been on the all-time-perfection meter but I was mind-blown at the clean little wrappers peeling down the point- and flying over the cobbles on water that looked like liquid glass- it was enough for me. I've said it before, "life is what you make it", a mantra I know to be true.

Southern Baja: Part 6

We stayed at that beautiful right point for two days before we decided to make a run for some warmer water. CON KSO packs up quickly so we broke camp and made a dash south. At Bahia Concepcion, on the Sea of Cortez, we ran out of steam and daylight. I'm not a fan of running the Baja highway at night, when shadows in the road might actually be a thousand pounds of steer flesh, a living tope (spanish word for speedbump) that could kill you. So it was here that the Fellowship of the Surf broke up, we pulled into a little hidey hole/campsite and the boys powered through the night. 

The next morning we hit the road and in a few hours we arrived at the road to my favorite wave in Baja.

The gateway to a beautiful left point; goofy footers dream.

Once again, when facing a torture-road, air down your tires. I bought these Staun deflators before the trip and I'm a huge fan of them. Instead of squatting down with a little twig or rock and spending twenty minutes dropping the pressure in all four BFGs you can screw these on each wheel, walk away and it's over in five minutes.

Halfway into the surfspot we came across something abandoned on the road by our gentle, northern neighbors.

A broken axle. This camper was meant to live at the weekend KOA campground now it will rot and rust in the Baja sun, another gringo discard in the beautiful desert. Air down, save your axles. By the way, the trailer had a set of propane bottles and a battery box on it when we went past- the next day it was stripped bare.

Before surfing, I brought the girls down to the bottom of the point. The water was warm, the beach was sandy- and we should have known this would happen. Bang, stingray hit! Poor Kotah, she got hit the instant the water was deeper than her ankle. Evidently, after talking to some friends at the point, the beach was carpeted with the little beasties- three people in their camp had been hit. Ouch.

I got some water heated up on CON KSO's stove and we stewed her foot in the hot water. This hurts- both the hot water and the rhythmic tsunami surges of pain that come from the stingray venom. Kotah took it like a champ.

Kotah rebounded after an hour or so and decided to recuperate on CON KSO's upper deck, The Aloha Deck. It was a beautiful evening, clear and warm. It was going to be a perfect night for Santa to navigate his stealth-sleigh around the globe. I built a fire that burned hot and fragrant and after the girls went to sleep, I cracked the first beer of the six that I would drink that night (thank you surf-neighbor Joules for those Christmas beers), stared into the fire and thought about my life. I think Herbie Fletcher said, "Life's a trip, pack your bags". I thought those words did a great job of summing up my current cosmic station. I was content, it was a good time to be. 

I'm not sure what time I pulled the ripcord and crawled into CON KSO's comfy camper but it was Christmas Eve and I was ready to wake up to whatever surf-Santa might decide to bring me. Little did I know that I had been on his "Nice" list because the next morning was a great one.

Southern Baja: Part 5

Surf! Finally. After creeping through the beautiful, yet tortuous Baja 4x4 track we popped out into a clearing right next to the paved Baja highway. I hooked up CON KSO's CO2 air up system and blasted some carbon dioxide into the 33" BFGs that the old girl sports. I also filled up Matt's tires and when all was ready, we carefully merged onto the highway and, once again, beat feet for the next campsite. We knew there was a swell in the water, we knew it was maxing out some spots so we decided to head to one of our favorite protected points. The spot offers both a great, secluded campsite and a nice little wave in the lee of a classic Baja point.

Our first surf campsite is one of my favorite spots in Baja, 4x4 is a necessity since to get to the campsite you need to drive the beach, power over a sand dune and descend a very rocky little hill. Here we are tucked into the lee of that little point and, yes, that's a really, really fun little bowling righthander in our faces.

The campsite is up on a low bluff right in front of the wave. Getting down to the beach is easy and paddling out is even easier since the entry is completely sand- shuffle your feet because warm water and sand means stingrays. Check out the 4X4 AstroVan in the distance, cool rig- that's a guy who showed up with his wife, two year old and his dog on the last night we were there. Cool people and they brought firewood too!

The motos were great to have at this spot. There were plenty of fun roads to zip around on and at low tide riding across the big, flat beach was a blast. There's also a small town nearby and we used my DRZ400 with rack to pick up 8 gallons of water, some cold beers and some ice cream- what more do you need? Another plus was using the bikes for surf exploration. In that one little area, there were at least four really fun, point break waves within a 10 to 15 minute moto ride. It's definitely a wave rich region when there's swell in the water.

Here's a fun right point that's ten minutes, by moto, from camp. There were two guys out the first time we looked at it and zero guys out the last time we checked in.

Here's another spot that's close by- looking fun at hightide, no takers.

You will need a 4x4, high clearance vehicle- check out how sharp those rocks are- gnarly! And, hard to see, but on the left side of the road down, there's a pretty good drop off that you have to be careful to put your left wheels directly onto. If you mess up you could bottom out onto the rock and tear open the soft bits under your vehicle. CON KSO handled it but I have to say, it was a little tense coming up that with the moto trailer on the rig.

Heading out and heading south. There is another way out that bypasses driving on the beach (at high tide, beach driving is impossible) but the sand is very soft so be prepared to air down and keep the vehicle rolling- throttle control is key.

The surf was so consistent and fun that we ended up setting up camp for a couple of days. The water was warm, it must have been in the low seventies (I trunked it) and the surf, on the first day, was beefy. I followed Matt's lead and pulled out the big 12' stando (Boga, El Rey- perhaps one of the first ones) and paddled up to the rock that marks the take off spot. The wave at the point is practically tailor made for stando surfing. The take off requires a sprint effort to force yourself over the ledge right next to the marker rock.

It's not a high-stakes takeoff but you have to be comfortable with putting yourself right next to something hard and barnacle covered, if you sat off the rock, you'd probably miss the wave since the wave's energy focused itself on that little patch of water. Once in, the wave stood up, on low tide a barrel is possible, and then uncoiled itself down the point. On a solid set wave, two or three off the bottom, off the top hits were possible (well as much of a "hit" as was possible with 12' of board under your feet). The juicy take off section then bent around with the point where the face was totally sheltered from the wind. The result was about two hundred yards of emerald green wall- not grinding and pitching but just a fun, walled up section that allowed a 12' board to gather itself up and run.

If you haven't felt the free flight of 12' of rail you should dust off your old big boy of a board and give it a shot. Seared onto my hard drive is one particular wave where I wrapped two, four acre long, wrap around cutbacks (huge leg workout) that set me up for that jade green, chest high inside wall section. I remember just putting all that board into the perfect little hook point of the wave and then just standing there feeling the warm sun on my bare shoulders, watching the sand run underneath me and just gathering up all the happy data points that I could; what a wave, what day, what a place to be!

Southern Baja: Part 4

The road out of Coco's corner was the roughest one I've ever driven over in Baja. Forget about bringing your fancy pants, RockStar, matching paint job and suspension, wash and wax weekly, bad boy truck... it's just gonna get scratched all to hell. We call it Baja pinstripping- the clear coat penetrating rubs and streaks that come from forging the way through narrow Baja brush.

"That'll buff right out..."

And then there's the washboard. The best explanation I was ever given for why these little dirt rivulets form across the road bed was that the rhythmic bouncing of car suspension eventually creates the ridges. Which is bullshit. Satan made them to shake the crap out of your vehicle, loosen every non-Loctited nut, destroy fragile electrical connections, disrupt your CD player, break all glass beer bottles in your cooler and basically drive you bat-shit crazy. The wrong way to approach washboard is to go faster. Twenty years ago at Punta Abreojos, an old Baja rambler once said to me, "Go ahead, go faster, I'll be picking your fender up twenty miles down the road". What you should do is air down your tires which gives you a little extra cushion. Unfortunately, there is a downside to airing down. Once you've bellied out your sidewalls you are now exposing them to the obscenely sharp, flinty rocks that seem to have migrated to Baja's roads. I've seen rocks completely penetrate steel belts, embedding themselves in the tire's carcass. I bring two spare tires with me and, most importantly, I drive slowly, constantly on alert for what I call, "The tire eaters". 

Pictures don't do this justice- tire placement was crucial, 4x4 low range, slow and safe

Air down for the washboard but you better have a way to air back up again. CON KSO is rigged with a CO2 air up system that can take me from 20psi to 80 psi in all four tires in about four minutes. Bad Ass.

Crawling along the Baja 1000 race course through a beautiful canyon, filled with palm trees and water and mud.

Found this on the road- drive foolishly and you will break things.

Of course, on the tough trails, stop frequently to hydrate.

Dakotah, Liza and Matt rode the trail on the motos ahead of us like scouts- here they scouted out where the quicksand like mud was found. Liza went in and immediately sunk in to her sprockets on her CRF250, Matt followed to check it out and he went it too. Liza and Matt handled it though, both getting off the bikes, gunning them and walking them out.

The place was a dream to ride motos though- people come from all over the world to ride this part of Baja. We were stoked to have gone to the trouble to bring the bikes and not be afraid to use them.

In the end, our little adventure/detour while visually stunning, took a lot longer than we expected. We found out later that we had just driven about sixty miles of the Baja 1000 course and it was tough going. Once we hit the highway, we aired up the tires and beat feet for our first surf stop... and it was worth it: 

A couple days of surfing were on the horizon for us.

Southern Baja: Part 3

We camped that night just past a bend in the road known as Coco's Corner. Coco is well known to offroad racers, dirtbike riders and travelers running down the peninsula. Coco's got no legs below his knees, he lost them to diabetes. He gets around on a beat up quad with special footpegs and when he's not on the machine he just walks around on his stumps. Coco has developed his little spot into a stopping point for the curious and the thirsty; his beer is always cold. He was the one who dropped by and told us we should check out the 4x4 route and that we should do it now because he was building a roadblock to stop anyone from using the road. It turns out that the new Baja 1000 organizers weren't spreading the love (money) like they used to and many of the local ranchers, and Coco, were pissed at them. We, however, had Coco's blessing and with that we were off. 

Imagine trying this on the street in front of your house.

The road was both rough and beautiful. The old Baja wisdom that, "Good roads bring bad people." must mean bad as in the type of people who litter, paint graffiti on rocks and break bottles. On the big Baja highway, you'll see evidence of the work of "bad people". This, however, was a bad road and the desert around it was pristine. The good people on that bad road evidently cared about the land. Everywhere I looked there were intricate xeriscape scenes laid out just off the trail. Starting from beautiful copper colored rocks set into the the type of perfect randomness that comes from a million years of weathering and geologic shuffling. My favorites were the "look-close" tiny colored succulents tucked into the cracks and crevices. The hardscape was speckled with a palette emphasizing subdued desert greens from dark green to almost silvery. The bushes, small trees and varied cacti, each a slightly different shade. The soft hues and rounded shapes of the plants contrasted against the angular rocks, different but somehow unified. Not a scrap of trash or a plastic bag hung up on a cactus, walk a few yards away from the road and you'd be in a piece of land that hadn't seen a footprint in a hundred years. The desert here is something special.

Desert colors- not all greens, browns or tans.

The road on the other hand, was brutal.

Southern Baja: Part 2

Note: Blogs post things in reverse chronological order (google it) so if you want to read these chapters in order, scroll down and read from Part 1. 

During the down year, I'd taken the off year and used it to prepare my truck, CON KSO. So not only was I primed to wring every ounce of fun out of old Mexico, I was also physically prepared for the challenge. Undoubtedly, there are some gear heads out there who will want me to elaborate specifically on the Baja mods I've added to CON KSO, to you I say, pay attention. As this story unfolds I will give specifics. As a teaser, however, I will give you CON KSO's vital statistics: 2007 Toyota Tundra extended cab 4x4, 5.8L V8 with a steel welded frame Callen Camper and, here's what makes her so special, an 8' bed. Remember when a standard bed was 8' long? CON KSO is a unicorn of California Tundras- an almost impossible to find combination of bed length, cab configuration and 4x4 drivetrain- my ol' girl, CON KSO. 

CON KSO: Jalama Beach cruising.

We would end up needing CON KSO's 4x4 capabilities throughout the trip but for now, in this first section of northern Baja, all we needed to do was haul ass as fast as we could down the excellent Baja highway that runs towards Mexicali and San Felipe. It's not that these places are miserable or dangerous, they're just not the Baja that we were looking or hoping for- these are sections that are to be endured. Soon enough, the good stuff would begin:

When you reach this turnout, you are on the verge of what I call "real Baja" the good stuff is coming real soon. This is the Sea of Cortez outside of San Felipe.

We like to take this route instead of the Pacific side western route that runs you through the dreary agricultural areas (also strewn with plastic trash and big, slow, stinky, time-sapping diesel trucks) that stretch from the border to San Quentin. Our route, while a bit longer, is a million times more scenic and tranquil and is almost completely devoid of truck traffic. Plus, the first night puts you in a campsite surrounded by pristine desert wilderness.

Truck surfing under the big, blue, Baja sky- Dakotah, going for it.  The road starts to look like this as you get further and further south from San Felipe.

Baja camp #1 about ten hours into northern Baja- a beautiful stretch of desert. This is our first day's stop along the trail- it's a moto rider's paradise with trails snaking out into the desert in every direction.

We were a caravan of two vehicles each of us bringing motorcycles. Here's Matt and Vida off on their little 90cc moto for the morning bathroom run. Motos are great to have in Baja just be prepared to repair thorn punctures. Look how green the desert is- there were more blooms than I've ever seen down there. 

Baja blooms- going off.

Lonely yellow.

We spent a nice chilly night under those bright Baja stars happy to be around a small, friendly camp fire wondering what the next day would bring. We had decided to take the path less traveled and test ourselves on a 4x4 trail that cuts through a canyon that we were told held water so sweet and pure that you could scoop it up and drink it right from the ground. I closed my eyes both excited to check that out and nervous about the desolation of the road- help would be a long way away.

Southern Baja Stand Up Paddle Adventure: Part 1 of 12

We tucked up against a sand dune in a nicely sheltered little spot on a wide, sand beach, five hundred miles below the border. It was a great Baja campsite, sheltered from the wind with clean, squeaky sand set right in front of a goofy little right point break. Goofy because when it's working it's not great, but it's not bad either- it's the kind of spot that provides fun runners on just the ride tide. It's more of a surprise gift than a sure thing. None of this mattered because it was almost completely flat. Still, it was enormously beautiful, we had cold beers and hot camp food and so despite the lack of ride-able surf we were happy. Until the asshole came driving up. 

Goofy right, perfect beach camp.

I saw his arm waving out the window and his headlights blazing as he drove straight at our camp, a Toyota Tacoma with a longboard resting on the tailgate and California plates. "You're blocking the fucking road" he yelled at us. Liza replied incredulously, "Seriously?" And that was a great question because the actual dirt road was back on the bluffs behind us. Even more confusing was the fact that surrounding our little campsite was open beach, like a sandy expanse of the 405 that any 4x4 could easily traverse. He stuck his head out as he drove away and yelled, "Kooks!" bumping off in the direction of the spot known as The Wall. It was like a drive by shooting, except the bullets were insults and all I could do was stand there and take it, I was pissed. Here we were, wrapping up one of my best Baja trips ever and then this happens. Was this really going to be the memory that capped our adventure?

That Goofy Right- going off.

Our trip was two years in the making. Liza and I had decided to take last year off because Liza's daughter was off to college (out of state which is a nice way of saying extra expensive) and we needed to make sure our finances could support that new commitment. So, for the first time in many years I wouldn't be sampling the warm water waves and ice cold beers of my beloved south Baja.  Of course I moped, whined and complained all winter long but I also secured a commitment to a full length surf excursion this year- which brings us to my driveway, 6:00 am, Dec. 20th 2014- departure day and I am stoked.

Go Time: 6:00am, Dec.20 2014: let the journey begin.

Imagine what she could do on stando

Just saw this one on Facebook. Pretty amazing- I didn't know this could be done.

Wornwear... Patagonia's too smart

Patagonia has it all figured out. Watch this film. Take everything that you shouldn't do, do it, while doing so make it look so stupidly cool that we all want some too. The result? Dropping $120 for a furry sweatshirt (basically a car seat cover circa 1985) is not just a purchase, it's my little step towards the "social justice" catch-all.

Case in point: Tell people that they should not buy new clothes. Instead, glorify the old beat, outdated, faded, torn and worn canvas Patagonia Lapland Reindeer Driver underwear ($80 for Baboon Ass Red, or $120 for goretex version in Heart of Darkness Black) you've kept for all these years (the guilt of actually passing on perfectly fine $120 underwear to Salvation Army proving too much to bear). The message? Old is good for the Earth. But wait a minute, how do you get old clothes? Ahhhh- I see what you did there. 

These people aren't just winning the P.R. war, they're tap dancing on every competitor's forehead... and making that look cool too. They don't call it Patagucci for nothing but this film makes parting with the big bucks feel like I'm casting a vote for rivers, trout, maple syrup and white people who seemingly have no job but to do cool, hard things I could never dream of doing. Don't get me wrong- I love (and buy) Patagonia trunks for all the right reasons (basically, they make a waist size 40 and they make really short inseams which are perfect for my box like stature)- I just didn't know that old would be so cool.

My asshole nature aside, I really liked this film. It proves that besides being stupidly talented surfers and totally cool people (I've met two of the Malloys traveling and surfing) the brother's Malloy are skilled storytellers. Make another one- I'd watch it.

Withering Away in Old Mexico

Cynical, pissed off... funny.

Give this one a read. It's not all gummy bears, unicorns, white boy shakas and hand made palm frond hats out there.

By the way- these guys at The Inertia are pretty much showing the surfing world why print magazines are the dodo bird of the informa-sphere. Have your read any of the big surf mags lately? In short, boring, filled with crap advertising and a month late to the party.

Round Africa with a Surfboard.

Some live in fear, some don't. Africa with a surfboard on a moto- why not?

I just never get enough of these.

The whole video in-the-barrel point of view thing never gets old for me. Here's a really good one:

Life is so much more than wave riding.

Outstanding Wayne Lynch piece. Day in the Life series- Bravo!

The youngsters rule- especially this kid.

Alright, I've got a new favorite paddlesurfer. Noah Yap- this kid's been on the radar for a long time now- I remember watching the first vids his Dad would shoot of this little dude spinning all kinds of board tricks when he was like eight years old. Now he's tossing down man-hacks, legit. But you want to know why he's really much better than 99.9% of the stando surfers out there? One reason: No, absolutely none, paddling while on the wave. Watch this kid- he's not jack hammering his paddle to make speed on a wave, he's really surfing it; finding the little speed grooves, pumping his board through little juice sections and then smacking the shit out of it off the top. My one gripe? I'm not a fan of the little fins out off the tops- but what do I matter? I'm fat, old and slow. Rip on, little shredder, rip on.

Man... gotta get back to slashin'!

Found this old photo... made me want to get up right now and go for a good paddlesurf session. I've got to get back to my inner-slasher. That does it, DogPatch this Wednesday... tweaked knee be damned!

Stand Up Paddle Surf Sinaloa Surf Adventures

Twisted knee, too many cutbacks, all lefts, surf with just 7 other friends, clean water, good food, cold beer... 'nuf said?

Ahhh- sweet anticipation.

Dr. John... slotted.

Paddle Surfing Sinaloa Mexico

Seven days of paddle surfing- details coming:

Kiwi- checking it.

Morning surf bus... load it up!

I want to be different, just like everybody else.

"Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people." - Eleanor Roosevelt 

Great surfers just surf, average surfers stand around and talk about surfing, small minded surfers hate everything.  

I just saw a post on the Surfer Magazine forum. Classic. Titled something like, "Everybody hates SUP" or something like that (by the way, go to that link and check out the hot photos of the SUP guy getting seriously barrelled). There was a reference to a battle between some entitled dingy sailors back east somewhere and the stand up paddlers who were bobbing in the water around their launch/land site. Evidently, a dinghy under sail, coming in for a beach landing with rudder up is eventually going to kill a stand up paddler so the sailors are trying to get SUPs banned from the water. Nice. Would hate to get some SUP blood on Chip's topsiders or tweak a pinky finger in a drastic, full rudder, avoidance maneuver. 

In the forum, you can read all the other posts as the SUP hate circle jerk winds up. These guys crack me up- in a sport where individuality is supposed to be admired (if that wasn't the case, Ozzie Wright's style would have had him banned from all surfing ten years ago) they can't stand to hear that one of their very own has gone over to the dark side. I have to salute the contribution by a longtime Oxnard local, talking about his friend, an acknowledged local shortboard ripper who's been dabbling in SUP: 

You know what I like about all this? I like thinking about the mindset of the stando/surf guy, who one day decided to give SUP surfing a shot. What do you want to bet that the results of his actions, the unbridled derision of his local Oxnard ripper brothers, NEVER ONCE CROSSED HIS MIND. Ironic in that in a sport and region where the punk rock anthem of, "fuck all of you because I ain't you." was nurtured and germinated ('Nardcore anyone?) - these guys are all confused and don't know what to think about a guy who truly separated himself from the 6'4" thruster flock. For small minds, the world is a much easier place to comprehend when you're, "different, just like everybody else."

Of course nobody got their head cut off...

Wow. I didn't think I'd alarm anybody with that last post but it turns out a few out there thought something went down on that Mex run. Breathe a little easier, Manny and Tyra had a great day of surf and killer Mexican food and made it back safely. 

I often see all kinds of forum questions about safety down south. Here's my take: Act foolishly and it can be dangerous. Will the cartel single you out, kidnap you and chop your head off? Well, if you roll down in a black Escalade with huge rims, roll around Rosarito Beach with your tinted windows rolled up tight, your snapback on sideways bumping Lil' Wayne you'd pretty much be tilting the odds in your direction just a little. Kind of like putting on a bacon suit in a chum cloud in off the Farallon Islands, you could do it and get away with it- but I don't advise it. The sharks, like the bad guys, are definitely there, there's no denying that. Are they hungry that day, can you tempt them to bite? Well, that's always going to be an unknown.

Put it this way, roll like that and there are eyes that would take notice and probably a couple cell phone calls put in about where you are, how you look and where you're headed. Me? I'd rather not be on that radar- that's why I like rolling with Manny in the Manny-mobile. It's all about being low-key, knowing where to go, when to go, when to leave and, best of all, where the best tacos are to be found. Go with someone who knows and keep your head on your shoulders.

Northern Baja Stand Up Paddle Surfing: Empty waves

Do not go stand up paddle surf Northern Baja, you will die. The cartel will cut your head off. It's totally dangerous- I repeat do not go surf Northern Baja:

Manny V. and Tyra Moe CreedSUP team members just before getting kidnapped by the lobster burrito cartel. Read more about Tyra Moe here.

Manny V. trying to flee... he was not successful.

T. Moe also trying to escape with Manny yelling at her to run!