Endless Session, Day 255: So, The Waves…
Hobbling across the stones of La Libertad, looking for a safe entry on day 255. Photo by PS I Shot you Hearing the sound of crashing waves from the room, my eyes popped open wide as saucers and I raced down past the cabanas and sleepy security guards to see the grand sight that was well over 10 foot waves rolling like freight trains a quarter mile until blasting onto the El Salvadorian sand. Last night, just before arriving at Thomas’s house on Punta Roca, the surf trio of Kris Hall, his girlfriend Taylor Stone and I spotted a break called La Paz, just to the south of the main point, and the long soft-looking lines were like sirens calling to our dancing longboard feet. Mellower looking than everywhere else we had seen, we thought it a good idea to book a car to take us here today, knowing from the forecast that things might be a bit rough at Sunzal. Our car arrived, and driving through the poor town of La Libertad, our driver, who spoke no English, dropped us off and eventually we were able to communicate that we wanted him to stay with us, Pegi and Taylor planning to be alone on the empty beach while we sailed off into oblivion. So, the waves…. Damn. Not the soft little lines we…
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