Tamarindo. Costa Rica. My new favorite place in the world. I recently got back from a 12-day surf safari where I stayed at Witch’s Rock Surf Camp. Normally I would write a large entry on all of my adventures and thoughts. But this trip is beyond words. For once, I find it difficult to write about my experience there. In fact I would go so far to say that the experience transcends the written word. Much like seeing the Grand Canyon for the first time or being in love (corny, yes, but to hell with it).

What did I do on the trip? Surf. Surf my guts out. Surf till my arms, back, elbows, and shoulders groaned with pain. Surfed till my armpits were rubbed raw. Surfed till my lips blistered and my skin darkened and my eyes became dazed red pits of dryed-out sun-burned shells. Surfed, gloriously surfed.

Costa Rica, amazing. The waves, delicious. I can’t even begin to convey how many good waves were scored. El Golfo, Playa Grande, Little Hawaii, Ollie’s Point (more about that later), Casitas, Marbella, Avellanos, Tamarindo Rivermouth, Langosta. All surf spots which served up warm, clean, waves of joy.

Playa Grande. Offshores with 2-3’ overhead barreling surf perfection, racing beach break peaks running left and right.

El Golfo. A reef break accessible by boat with heavy A-frames. Shallow rocks just below the surface make this wave one that makes you think twice. And makes it twice the fun.

Marbella. Oh sweet Marbella. Heavy, pitching, overhead racing barrels of thumping deep water beach break.

Avellanas. Sometimes hot, sometimes cold. Fun with the right wind, swell, tide, and crowds. Fun, friendly beach/reef combo break that is user friendly.

Little Hawaii. My last surf session of the trip occurred there at sunset. A fast, boiling, ledgy right hander breaking off of a super shallow reef. Only works on low tide.

Casitas. The local break. Fun to play around on. A beach break that runs left and right.

Ollie’s Point. What can I say about our day at Ollie’s Point? One word: epic. Not the epic occasionally thrown around to describe a good day of surf on a nice day. The kind of epic that describes beautiful art. The Sistine Chapel. Mona Lisa. This is a world-class break located in a National Sanctuary. A deep cove focuses and organizes the open-ocean wave energy. The waves move towards the shallow northern reef rocks where they are thrust upward and outward into a singular breaking point. The wave breaks off the rocks then races right along the perfect sandbar created by the rivermouth. All of this takes place in untouched natural beauty.

By itself this wave is an extremely rare formation and rare combination of different elements not found in many places in the world. But the stars further aligned for us. Imagine: a weather system that delivers clear blue skies and strong offshore winds, a big and strong long period south swell, a Panga boat loaded with a small assortment of surfers…one of them being an East Coast boy who is on his first visit to Costa Rica, who only started surfing 6 years ago when he rolled the dice and moved to San Diego, who by chance now finds himself at the crossroads of all of these conditions. Conditions, combinations, fate, and perfection like this could only possibly occur every decade or so to a lucky surfer such as myself.

When we first arrived to Ollie’s, the waves were only chest high. As the morning went on, the lines of fate and nature crossed and diverged until they formed a perfect point of pure light. Double-overhead sets were standing up and delivering rights that raced as fast as you could go. Offshore spray trails were blowing up and off the waves like small tornados. The steep waves were perfect for hard turns of delight, the board spitting and chattering as it skipped across the water at top speed. I can’t even begin to tell you how many good waves I caught that day. I can still hardly believe it myself. Surf perfection in a perfect setting of idyllic nature. Like a knight standing in shining armor, the power and beauty of the ocean, sky, and rain forest presented itself that day in all of its royal glory. I’m a truly lucky man to have been there.

Pura Vida.

     With no plans on the horizon, Alex, Amber, and I loaded up the truck and headed north up the 5 late Friday evening to Santa Cruz. It’s a boring drive, filled with traffic, cows, dust, heat, and plenty of gas station scenery. Hence our night time departure. We arrived safe and sound after arguing metaphysics through the well-known theoretical model of Schrodinger’s Cat (for those keeping track, Alex disagrees that the cat can be both alive and dead).

The next morning we headed out in search of waves and found none. So to make lemonade from lemons we hit up Scott’s Valley skatepark. Alex and I ripped around while Amber sat on the Dad bench. Someone asked her which ones were hers, to which she replied “the two 30 year olds”. If you’re in the area check the park out. It had good flow, good pools, and the concrete was poured nicely. All escaped uninjured.

The next day while Amber was out playing some beach volleyball, Alex and I headed out with one of our gracious hosts, Don, to travel north to find surf. We found some water being blown into formations which we decided to call waves (a stretch by definition of the word). Now, I thought I had been in cold water before and was prepared for the surf session with my trusty 4/3 O’Neill Psycho 2. That was until the icy water first lapped at my bare hands. All I have to say is that I have a new appreciation for the warm waters of San Diego. My hands felt like they were being dipped in liquid nitrogen and my head felt like I beer-bonged 40 ounces of milkshake. That water is cold! I can’t complain though, no sharks decided to nibble on our chilled limbs.

Now for the part of the trip that was my favorite. The Santa Cruz skatepark. This place is awesome! I spent every day at the park and logged multiple sessions of skating glory. The combo pool with the full pipe has now taken first place as my favorite pool in the world. The flow is amazing, the concrete is fast, and there are lines everywhere. To top it all off the scene there is very chill and I had a great time talking to the locals. It reminded me of skating FDR and the spirit was very much the same. If you skate and are in Santa Cruz…go there!

On the ride home Alex took the backseat as Amber and I scrolled through some classic country Americana tunes. As John Denver, the Allman Brothers, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and the Marshall Tucker Band played throughout the Explorer, Alex slowly faded into the dark shadows of the backseat, realizing he was entering a world not of his Long Island upbringing. I can only hope that we left him with the taste of some country classics and he could imagine the slow rivers rolling through the green meadows and trees of the country, fish jumping through the glassy water. You’re welcome Alex, you’re welcome.

The trip was a good one and I look forward to returning soon! And it’s good to have the memories of flying through the bowls on my skateboard. As of now I’ve put myself on bans from skateboarding, less I injure myself right before my 2 week surf trip to Tamarindo, Costa Rica. Mmmmm…Cooosssstttaaaaaa Riiiccccaaaaaaaa….

     This past weekend Alex, Page, and I drove out to my favorite camping spot in the Mojave Desert (and no, I cannot divulge it’s secret location). Before we left we stocked up on an interesting assortment of camp food: kippered herring, Spam with bacon, water, beans, chips, jerky, hot dogs, etc. We forgot some of the more important items: hot chocolate, cigars, Levi Garrett, marshmallows. As a side note: Spam with bacon may just be the ultimate camp food. If you’re going camping, buy a lot! The weather was great although it got a little cold at night. No beasts of nature attacked us and we didn’t suffer any injuries from plants or insects. Page was having a blast being a desert camp dog. She would follow us around and chase lizards. She also was enjoying digging in the dirt and getting nice and dusty. Ahh, the life of a dog! During the day we took some hiking treks around and also did some stone balancing (note: here is where the Levi or cigars would have come in handy). Another good trip on the books!

But the most important lessons I learned aren’t ones which can be listed in order or are so matter-of-fact. These are the lessons one can only learn when in soltitude and faced with challenges. Personal lessons about who we are and what’s important. It’s the people in our lives and who we are which give satisfaction and meaning. We are not defined by our jobs, education level, net worth, or clothes on our backs. I realized how important people are to me, without them we’re simply cruising along in landscapes in scenery. The future may be uncertain, and things may change around us, but the firm bedrock of the soul, if discovered and nurtured properly, will weather anything and stay as solid and everlasting as the granite mountains of the Rockies. I hope to be able to take this spirit of adventure I used during this motorcycle trip and apply it to other areas of my life, to use the same courage to challenge myself personally and try to grow as a person by facing down my fears in other areas. Thanks to all who have supported me in the past few weeks, the small and big things mean more than you may know.