The waves were a lot bigger.
We knew the swell was coming. And the glistening, friendly sea at Sunzal wasn’t looking as welcoming as it did on that epic first day.
Longboards in hand, Kris and I waited until just before noon when the tide started going down, me staying at the inside section and him venturing a little father into the deep, determined to get a few longer rides. I felt a little less uneasy closer to shore, even with swell making the beachside water move like a river — I must’ve paddled for five minutes straight at one point, looking over my shoulder to see that I hadn’t moved an inch from the landmark I had honed in on previously. Inching my way towards the break with a little more vigor, I paddled into and quickly kicked out of a few short closeouts, while I watched Kris, looking limitless, take off on a few well overhead waves.
The exhausting constant paddle had me wiped, and catching enough satisfying sections, I moseyed in to play around on the soft sand and meet up with Jose Barahona, my surfboard shaper, sea sensei, and El Salvadorian dad, who drove his best workers out from his hotel on a not-so-nearby-lake to our resort in Playa Tunco (Roca Sunzal) to buy them lunch and treat them to a day of lazing around the pool and beach. After some first rate El Salvadorian grub, we loaded in a van and headed for our friend Thomas’s house, located smack dab on the famous Punta Roca, to visit he and Aussie big wave shredder Ben. As 15 of us filled his beach home, Thomas handed out Coronas and we watched the swell fill in from the balcony, glasses clinking and hammocks swaying over another beautiful Central American sunset.
