
At 6:20, the snooze button was hit, and it took me a few short seconds to come to my senses. I’m in Nicaragua on a surf trip. There’s no time for snoozing (even if we did stay up ridiculously late playing intense games of ping pong and dominos).
A short walk down the beach for a dawn patrol surf sesh at Pipes with Brendan Simmons, nicknamed “El Matador” for the way he charges down the line with a powerful yet graceful style, had us frothing for more, the baby low tide waves barely producing anything rideable. Rap star Chris Portugal and our new La Barra friend joined us in water there as well, and everybody was content being in 80 degree jacuzzi-esque ocean, the difficult to catch and inconsistent waves almost not affecting the mood.

Breakfast prepared with love by the gracious camp cooks, Nicaraguan coffee (possibly the best cup of joe I’ve had) and a few hours of killing time waiting for the tide to do its thing…. 11 a.m. came all too slowly. Our guide and camp manager Michael Cruz loaded up an insane amount of boards, and all eight of us — a couple from Iceland, a surfer from New York, Cruz, camp assistant Luis, and me and my travel partners Brendan and Chris — packed ourselves tightly into the camp van, surf destination: El Transito. The oversized van sailed us down bumpy rock and dirt roads, past small square shacks built of flimsy aluminum, and small children skipping down the road in their polished school uniforms waved to us and smiled ear to ear as we drove by. Cruz (manager at AST Adventures located in Redondo Beach), who is from the South Bay but spends months at a time in countries such as here and El Salvador, said “They are always smiling. It doesn’t make a difference: No matter where kids are in the world, all they want to do is play.”

We pulled up to El Transito for some serious adult sized play. Cruz took the task of helping our new friends from Iceland (who are taking four months away from home to travel through most of Central America) with a quick surf lesson and helpful pointers before paddling out himself, and the rest of the crew faded into the lineup with a few hotshot locals, who were landing 360 airs and cutting back so hard that it nearly brought the overhead waves to a dead stop. It was the first time in a week that I was paddling without pain, and I was almost in tears of joy knowing that my shoulder was actually healing, still weak from lack of use but ultimately getting better day by day.
The cove of El Transito was making me feel like a giddy toddler with it’s nonstop fun and forgiving waves, and a weak arm prompted me to get out to take a break, whereby I witnessed Brendan landing the most impressive and stylish off the lip on his 9’0 performance longboard that I’ve ever seen in my life. The Iceland couple was bobbing around and even got a few waves by themselves, and I watched Chris sail down steep walls, taking some lumps of perfection all the way to the beach with his smooth style. Having taken in the glistening sight before me long enough, me and big blue plunged back in, switching with Brendan, who got out to take a water camera “break.” By the time he swam back into the lineup, I was feeling sore, and caught two more waves, my last noseride being the best of the day. Session: success.
I had skipped breakfast for a smoothie, so by the time we were able to traverse past the massive herd of angry cows and got back to camp at 4 p.m., I was nearly dying of hunger. The fresh paella, buttered bread, strawberry salad, and cold beer prompted me to blurt out at the table in front of everybody with a full mouth of food, rice almost spilling out of my mouth, “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been.” Clinks of beer bottles indicated a cheers to that. I couldn’t believe we had the energy, but after our 4 p.m. meal we grabbed our stick and charged back out, sun still in the sky, then in the blink of an eye gone, orange hues staying around until blackness took cover and we were still bobbing, barely able to see with the sliver of moon and fire in the nearby cottage as our only beacons of light.

Play is all we have. Surfing every day, I’ve certainly taken a hit on the finances — I do work, but if I didn’t take the whole morning to hunt for waves I’d more than likely have a full time job and make a lot more money. But honestly, money is secondary, if not at the bottom of the priority list at the moment. I walk around every day feeling joyous and blissful — making the least amount of money I’ve ever made. If I have to live in a small room for the rest of my life, surrounded by friends, constantly playing, like those smiling and laughing kids — if that’s what it takes to keep this stoke going, happily count me in.
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