By Morgan Sliff
Waking up contorted across two seats in an aisle that I made into a makeshift bed, I could almost feel the heavy, warm air from El Salvador as we landed. Photographer and surfer Brendan Simmons, rap star Chris Portugal and I made our way off the plane and I dipped into the ladies room, walking into beautiful El Salvadorian women crowded around the mirror, all smiling and laughing while doing their makeup. One more 40 minute connecting flight to Nicaragua and a bumpy landing had us in baggage claim, and we were quite the spectacle with 4 oversized board bags that contained no less than 10 surfboards.
La Barra surf camp manager and ironically my childhood friend Michael Cruz picked us up and on the road we were in our van, 2 hours from warm water and ice cold beer, weaving through middle-of-the-road vendors, children almost getting run over to wash windows for a quick cent, and about 3 “gringo-with-surfboards” police stops. We stopped for a volcano view and to check out Managua lake, then 30 minutes later we were beachside, at the pristine camp; surrounded by surf racks, hammocks, post surf showers, vultures picking at dead fish on the beach, and perfect, glassy waves.
The boards were de-robed out of their protective board bags and given a good coat of tropical wax, then the first surf session in Nicaraguan waters was calling our fins and feet. Almost in disbelief coming from cold water California, we plunged into the spot named chicken bowls, giddy about at how warm and inviting the ocean was. A sore shoulder and riding a shortboard prompted me to catch only 3 waves and leave the rest for the boys, sitting on the beach while they caught a few more, and grabbing some grub from the talented La Barra cooks after our session.
After a surf, we played in the not-so-forgiving beachbreak, getting tossed around on boogie boards in barrels and swimming near the shore, Brendan getting the wave of the day, risking breaking his longboard in half by getting a more than epic noseride into the sand. The guys eventually paddled back out into some rideable surf, chicken bowls picking up drastically with the dropping tide. I watched for a while, resting my shoulder, and seeing the pumping waves and guys getting epic rides, I couldn’t take it anymore – running up to grab my longboard, (was so excited that I forgot to put the fin in – got down to the beach and had to walk back up) I jumped in for round 2. Brendan came out and switched the log he was ripping on for a water camera, and I joined Michael and Chris for an amazing session, bobbing just feet above a sharp reefbreak and plummeting down some steep faces.
Surf, eat, swim, surf, eat, drink, repeat.
I still can’t believe I’m in another country. Someone pinch me – or don’t, I’d really like to keep this dream going for a while. At least until Thursday.
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