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Iguanas and Ice Cream in Costa Rica

July 7, 2018 Leigh Leigh, Surfing, Travel

The following is part one of a recap of our trip to Costa Rica. Stay tuned for part two next week!

The hardest part of our adventures isn’t the planning of the trip, or finding a place we know we’ll love, it’s deciding where to go! There are so many places to see and experiences to enjoy, but since Edgar and I had both been to Costa Rica before we met, we decided to go back together, along with his daughters.

Since we were coming from different places, we all met in Dallas and left for CR from there. The flight left bright and early at 6am. We had a layover in Florida, and arrived in San Jose around noon. We grabbed our rental car and hit the road, planning to check out a waterfall or two, and then a volcano, before turning in for the night.

The roads were decent and we didn’t have too much trouble finding the first stop. It was actually a little chilly because we were up in the mountains, and we were glad to have packed an extra layer. We dumped our things at the hotel and went out to explore.

The weather was… moist. It wasn’t exactly raining, but it wasn’t dry either. There was a sort of mist that hung around the place, which made it seem a little mysterious. We took a little hike around before dinner.

We asked the manager about a nearby waterfall and discovered it wasn’t far at all. It is a little tough to see here because of the mist and the fact that the sun was going down. We stuck our feet in (cold!) and Edgar even drank a little of it, in case it was the fountain of youth. (I assured him that’s in Florida, and I had a couple gulps when I was a kid.)

For dinner, we stopped at a French restaurant we’d spotted on our drive through “town”. It was strange to sit and have a (delicious) French meal, prepared by an eccentric French chef, in the middle of nowhere, Costa Rica. As we finished our dessert, we were greeted by a little cat who pawed at my leg and then jumped right in my lap! Word of my feline generosity has clearly spread far and wide.

The next morning we spotted a cow hanging out by herself, and the girls wanted to go say hello. They pet the cow for a while and then Edgar walked over and gave her the head scratching of her life. I didn’t know cows liked that but this one was really leaning into it. You’re welcome, cow. There were some others on the other side of the fence – you can kinda seem them to the upper left of the photo – and they came to the fence and made some noise. I think they were trying to say they had itchy chins too.

After breakfast and the petting of the livestock, it was time to hit the road. We wanted to check out the Arenal volcano, since we’d seen some pictures online and it looked like a good place to explore. We were also told there was an ice cream shop along the way that was well-populated by iguanas. How could anyone pass that up? We consulted the map and off we went.

Road signs in CR can be few and far between, and our map was not great with the finer details of the small cities. We weren’t sure of one of our turns so we stopped to ask where the ice cream/iguanas were. The store clerk didn’t speak English, and our Spanish needs some work, so Edgar helpfully drew this on our map.

Suddenly she knew exactly what we were talking about! A few hand signals and “directo! directo!” instructions later, we were on the road again. The iguanas did not disappoint. We didn’t know whether the people at the shop fed them, or they were already there and the shop came along after… but there were definitely iguanas everywhere! Edgar asked the server if they were friendly, and he said, “Well, they have very sharp teeth, but they are nice.” Okay.

We were all feeling a little unsure about petting the nice animals with the razor-sharp teeth, but we were okay with tossing them some leftovers, and then as we saw more people touching them and walking away unscathed, we felt safe enough to pet them too.

No hands were damaged in the shooting of these pictures. That’s the remnants of a mango someone fed them.

With more of the wildlife fed and scratched, we headed off to La Fortuna and the volcano… and met a group of German bodybuilders I was certain was pulling our collective legs. That’s in part two, coming up next weekend!

Press In

June 30, 2018 Leigh Leigh, Yoga

When my friend Sarah came to visit a while back, we decided to have some fun with a yoga photo shoot. We researched some poses that might look visually interesting in tandem, and one of them was two yogis in wheel, each with one leg extended. We both liked the look of the pose, but when it came time to try it out, we both said the same thing, “I’m not sure I can do that.”

We got into place, first in wheel with our feet toward each other. We each took a deep breath and lifted one leg. It was difficult, and we both struggled, until our feet touched. Heel to heel and toe to toe, the pose became less of a struggle. We felt supported, and strengthened by the contact. We stayed in the pose much easier in tandem than we could have solo.

Finding community as adults can be a challenge. We often feel a little wobbly, reaching out, only to flounder for something solid. It may seem like forever, but before we fall, God steps in to put people in our lives who, at that moment, also have a limb extended. We lean in, meet in the middle, make contact and support one another. Heel to heel. Toe to toe. We press in, breathe deeply, and each journey becomes a little easier.

Taking the baja down the Baja: Day Nine

June 16, 2018 Leigh Leigh, Surfing, Travel, Yoga

Note: This is a recap of Day Nine of our journey driving a ’68 bug from Sacramento, CA to Sayulita, Mexico. You can catch up on day eight here.

The most surprising aspect of the ferry ride was the timing. We had given ourselves plenty of wiggle room, because we didn’t know if it would leave or arrive on time. It did both. We cruised into Mazatlan right before 9am, and everyone lined up in an orderly fashion to disembark. I joined the exit line, rushed back to return the borrowed movies and remote control, then joined the line again while Edgar went down below to fire up the bug.

I walked off the ramp and met Edgar in the parking lot, where he was holding our exhaust pipe. He’d lightly tapped a truck during the unloading process, and it was enough to cause the pipe to break off. Once again our jar of bungees came in handy, and we headed off toward Sayulita with the pipe carefully fixed to the roof rack, while keeping a careful eye out for a welding shop.

At lunch time we found a nice little place right on the water just south of San Blas, selling shrimp and cheese empanadas and the now standard coca lites. While we wrapped up the meal, we asked around about a nearby break called Stoners. No one at the restaurant knew what we were talking about, so we went off-roading again. We found some pretty beaches, but no swell.

We’d spent enough time in Nayarit to know where the swell is located there, so we got back on the pavement and headed in that direction. In La Cruz we spotted what looked like a welding shop, and quickly turned in. We used our spanish and a lot of demonstrative movements to explain the problem, and one of the workers said the magic words, “no problem”. He brought out the torch, and waved off Edgar’s suggestion of a helmet. A few moments and pesos later, the pipe was once again married to the bug.

We were close to home, but had enough light to check out one of the local breaks, so we took a quick peek. Burrows wasn’t too exciting, but the pizza joint nearby had a live band. They sounded good and so did a slice of pizza, so we settled in to enjoy both.

After dinner, it was time to go home. Casa Aves has the perfect spot for the bug right out front. We spent time unloading boards and supplies, and giving the green meanie a little dust-off as a welcome home.

The next day, we grabbed a ride to the airport, and a much faster trip home.

Miles traveled on day 9: 245

The story doesn’t end here; it’s just the closing of this chapter. Thanks to everyone for following along and enjoying the recaps with us. It was a great adventure and we enjoyed sharing it with you. We’d love to hear your feedback and/or questions. What surprised you about the journey? Is there anything we didn’t cover that you really want to know? Have you, or would you want to, make a similar trek? Would you have joined Fibber McGee for dinner, or adopted a Mexican street puppy? Share in the comments and let’s keep the conversation going.

Taking the baja down the Baja: Day Eight

June 9, 2018 Leigh Leigh, Surfing, Travel, Yoga

Note: This is a recap of Day Eight of our journey driving a ’68 bug from Sacramento, CA to Sayulita, Mexico. You can catch up on day seven here.

Ferry day! This was the most unpredictable part of the trip. When we made our plans, the driving part had some wiggle room, but was overall pretty clear. The ferry leg wasn’t, and we were excited to see what it would bring.

In the morning we walked to a coffee shop for delicious coffee and cookies. The girl at the register told the guest ahead of us she worked 14 hour days. She must have put all that time into her recipe for blonde brownies, because it knocked our socks off. We spent a few minutes happily sipping coffee, shaking our heads and saying things like just how good is this brownie…

Once properly sugared up, we got back on the road and headed to surf Cerritos. It was a family-filled beach with a lot of kids getting up on big foam boards wearing baggy rash guards and grins from ear to ear.

We rented two boards – an egg for Edgar and a pink foam long board for me. We headed right out, and I promptly got clobbered on the first wave and banished myself to white water. Edgar paddled out and got into some better waves. We were glad we had wet suits, because the water was still pretty chilly.

After the quick surf session we headed for Cabo, intending to surf there too, but traffic was building and we didn’t want to risk missing the ferry. We gave Cabo a glance and turned back toward La Paz, stopping for some pizza and coca lites. I thought the restroom signs were hilariously clear.

The ferry guys put us back in line to be inspected and weighed, so note to readers, the dry run is not necessary. We had the same guys at the inspection and weigh stations as we did the day prior; the only difference this time was a fee after we were weighed. That seemed a little suspect, and we made a few noises in that direction, but in the end we paid it and got in line to drive on the boat.

Only one person was allowed to be in the vehicle during the loading process, so we split up and Edgar drove the bug on board, while I filed in with the other walk-ons in the passenger line. We met back up at reception and got escorted to our room. Bunk beds, bathroom and a separate living room area. Pretty snazzy!

Dinner was being served on the upper deck, so even though we weren’t all that hungry, we went up to check it out. It was kinda like the dining area on a cruise ship, but buffet style. We had chicken, tortillas and banana pudding for dessert.

Back in our room, we tried to watch TV but couldn’t get it to work, so I checked at the desk to see if they offered movies for rent. They did, at no cost, and they had some in English! We floated across the sea of Cortez while watching the epic struggle to climb Everest, then turned in. Edgar says he slept like a baby, but I had a bit of a hard time with the rock of the boat, and doors nearby opening and closing.

Miles traveled on day eight: 250 by road and 260 by boat.

On Day Nine: Sayulita and home sweet home.

Taking the baja down the Baja: Day 7

June 2, 2018 Leigh Leigh, Surfing, Travel, Yoga

Note: This is a recap of Day Seven of our journey driving a ’68 bug from Sacramento, CA to Sayulita, Mexico. You can catch up on day six here.

Our search for coffee in La Paz took us to a shop just a block away from the hotel, with Shakespeare quotes on the wall. We enjoyed our flat white and mocha outside, next to the Sea of Cortez, and took a few moments to catch up on some work. Then it was time for the big event of the day: getting ferry tickets.

When we mapped out our trip, we knew we needed to catch a ferry ride from La Paz over to Mazatlan, and main land Mexico. We found some information online, but we weren’t 100% sure on the details. Did it only go to Mazatlan on weekdays? Was the Saturday trip just to Topolobampo? (Still need a pronouncer on that one but it’s fun to try!) How quickly would it fill up?

Finding the ferry dock wasn’t too tricky, and we asked the man directing traffic where we needed to go to get a ticket. He motioned to the building and parking lot. We parked, walked inside, and took a number for the ticket counter. The office was filled with what appeared to be local families, on their way to or back from vacation. I’m pretty sure we were the only Americans driving our ’68 bug across the country for kicks.

At our turn at the window, we learned we needed to be inspected and weighed first, before a ticket for the vehicle could be issued. We went back outside and got in line for that. The agent in our lane asked about our paperwork, which we had, and our VIN number, which we could not point out for him. I’m sure it’s on the car somewhere, but we had no idea where. After a few words of explanation, and absolutely no inspection, he waved us through to the scales.

The bug weighed in at around 1500 pounds. Back inside the building, we purchased two passenger and one vehicle ticket for the ferry the next day, and got instructions to show up two hours before departure.

Feeling confident about the next leg of the adventure, we headed off to celebrate with some waves at Todo Santos, which basically involved driving straight south to the Pacific side once again.

Lunch was on a nice patio in town, with two stray dogs snoozing nearby. Before we ate our meal, dessert arrived via a woman and her children, selling donuts for five pesos. We got two.

The key to burning off chocolate icing is paddling out, so we hit the surf shop in town to pick up a leash for one of our boards. The woman running the store was happy to sell us the leash, but cagey about the local breaks, clearly pretending not to know much about La Pastora, which we’d heard was amazing, and steering us more toward Cerritos. But we wouldn’t be detoured so easily, and double checked the online descriptions for La Pastora, which was rumored to be a good place to get barreled if you hit it on the right day. (To be clear, only one of us was looking for that sort of thing.)

The bug was a trooper and pressed on through all kinds of sand, brush and hills. Several times we spotted farms and fences, and surmised this might be La Pastora, only to walk down to a flat beach. Finally, around sunset, we saw an opening in the brush and turned off — there it was! The waves were once again no match for my skill level, so Edgar grabbed a few while I flowed on the beach.

When the sun went down, we headed to a hotel I had booked online, but when we got to the gate no one answered. There was a note and a giant bell to ring for the clerk. We gave it a couple pulls… nothing. Called the number…nothing. The neighbor came home and mentioned the desk kept “crazy hours” and that if we kept trying someone “might answer.” Rather than being stranded at dark in the street, we decided to press on into town and found the Maria Bonita. The young girls working the counter enjoyed some giggles at our Spanish, but they did have rooms available, and we had ourselves a place to rest. Dinner was sushi with a hot pepper Mexican twist…. an unexpected and tasty fushion!

Miles traveled on day seven: about 50 from La Paz to Todo Santos, plus a good amount of wandering in search of La Pastora.

On day eight: We watched the struggle to climb Everest while traveling through the night on the Sea of Cortez.

Taking the baja down the Baja: Day Six

May 26, 2018 Leigh Leigh, Surfing, Yoga

Note: This is a recap of Day Six of our journey driving a ’68 bug from Sacramento, CA to Sayulita, Mexico. You can catch up on day five here.

The hotel offered breakfast, so we made the most of the coffee, fruit, and yogurt — the last made by the waitress herself, the night before. The morning was overcast and a little chilly, so we decided to see about getting some laundry done before heading to the beach. While at the hotel, we met a surfer named Chad from Colorado. We had a good chat about surfing, traveling and a little politics. He asked if he could use Edgar’s phone to email his wife and let her know he’s alive. He said he was in the middle of a three-week surfing pilgrimage, and that she allows this once every year. But, she does worry if she doesn’t hear from him, and he was only carrying a flip phone. We shared our technology and got the message through, then told him we’d see him at the beach.

Scorpion Bay has a reputation for being one of the best and longest waves in the world. If conditions are right, you can get on one, take a right, and just keep going. The bug got a warm welcome at the break, where Chad and some other folks were already parked and suiting up. A guy who introduced himself as Bubba, also from Colorado, couldn’t get enough of our Green Machine, and took several photos for the boys back home. He was doing the trip in a VW bus, and explained he belonged to a VW fan club. “They’ll love this!” he said with a big grin on his face, snapping photos like he was with the paparazzi. He also showed us the sticker he had on his bus, which celebrated the journey. It read, “I Survived the North Road!” I wanted one for the bug, but didn’t get around to finding the right shop.

The super clean lines were calling, so we waved to the guys and headed down a little ways to the next of the four points. The rocks and the swell were intimidating for me, so I took a flow on the beach while Edgar climbed down and paddled out. It was breaking clean, at waist to shoulder high, and he reported back that it was super fun.

The sun came and I had plenty of time to salute it repeatedly and then work on hand stands on the beach. I can only hold for a second or two, but it feels like forever. I’m always hesitant to practice on hard surfaces since I know I’ll tumble, but the soft sand was perfect and the bug was also kind enough to offer a steady assist.

As we got ready to leave, we ran into a Japanese surfer with a board tucked under his arm. He was so excited he was running for the beach. “I am at the end of my surfing trip,” he told us. “I think I will go to America and work some more, save up more money, until I have enough to go again.” Living the life.

We needed to get moving to stay on schedule for the ferry, but we wanted to stare at the lines a while longer so we grabbed some fish tacos at a beachside restaurant. While we waited for the food, I pet a tiny dog, who didn’t mind the interruption to his afternoon nap.

Then it was time. We put the bug in gear and headed for La Paz, about six hours away. The road was all pavement, and smooth-sailing, quite the change from our bumpy ride in. Even though we were cruising along with one headlight and two fog lights, we were greeted with quick waves and the “move along” motion at the checkpoints. We found the La Perla hotel for sixty USD, a safe place to sleep right by the water. When we pulled into the turnout for valet parking, the attendant said it was okay to just keep it right there. The workers all regarded our rig with a little smile on their faces.

We walked to a nearby Italian restaurant and ate sandwiches for dinner and watched people cruise down the main strip. For dessert we had cheesecake, which we thought was going to be carrot cake. We could tell the waitress wasn’t sure when we ordered, and when she delivered it she was looking sheepish. “My English is not so good,” she said. But that was okay because the cheesecake was.

Miles traveled on day six: 242 smooth ones on the best road so far

On day seven: We conducted a dry run for the ferry, and annoyed a surf shop owner who tried to lure us away from “her” waves.

Taking the baja down the Baja: Day Five

May 19, 2018 Leigh Leigh, Surfing, Travel

Note: This is a recap of Day Five of our journey driving a ’68 bug from Sacramento, CA to Sayulita, Mexico. You can catch up on day four here.

The first thing we did on Day Five, was get out the toolbox and give the bug some attention. Well, the very first thing we did was get coffee. I ordered from the hotel restaurant, and used my weak but growing Spanish to say “Cafe con leche. Dos. And….(I mimed walking fingers) vamose!” It’s rough, but people seem to appreciate the attempt. The waitress returned with two coffees to go and asked me for 35 pesos. I handed her 40, and she handed them back to me and shook her head. I looked down and noticed I had given her $40 Canadian. Travelers’ problems

We spent about an hour in the hotel parking lot checking oil, reattaching fenders and getting the LED bar to work. Then it was time to set our sights on Scorpion Bay. We drove for a while before deciding to stop for lunch at a roadside restaurant. Tacos, a torta and two coca lites really hit the spot. The bill was a whopping 131 pesos, or $7.

At a gas station stop, Edgar filled up the tank and I went inside the little store for snacks. I spotted a little bag of something called Choco Retas and decided we needed to try them. They tasted like tiny little peppermint patties. Addicting!

On the way out of the store I spotted a small dog, and of course stopped to pet it. “You like dogs, amiga?” the man sitting in front of the store asked. I admitted I did. “I have puppies for adoption. You want one?” I said no thank you and held firm, but I had to speed walk it out of there.

We’d spent some time researching the drive to Scorpion Bay, so we knew we would be a while on a dirt road, then take a left at a fish camp, and then we’d have the option to take the salt flats, or the north road. There were warnings included with both. Don’t stray from the path. Don’t go alone. Take a short wave radio…. and so forth.

We decided to go alone and take candy and a good attitude. The north road needed a grader and it needed one badly. It was washboard the whole way. We tried to weave to a “better” part of the road, but better never really came. A few times we would run into really soft sand, and we’d have to get a run at it to stay unstuck. Other times we had to slowly rock crawl and rattle our way across stretches with no sand at all. It was pretty exciting and we always made it up and out.

A few hours in we spotted a van coming the other direction, and the driver slowed to talk to us. It was a couple from California and they were coming back from Scorpion Bay. The driver offered us directions that included go straight, pass a goat farm, keep going, drive through the creek bed…. “How much farther is it?” we asked. “Oh at least two more hours,” came the reply. We waved our thanks and put the bug in gear.

All told, we were about seven hours on the north road. We passed lots of cows, and a group of wild horses. Of course I wanted to get close, but they were skittish and had foals with them, so they stuck around long enough for a couple long-distance clicks and then took off. The scenery changed from the salt pools to sand to brush and then tall cacti. We got a good long look at all of it, since the road conditions only allowed us to go about ten miles per hour. (by ear)

Finally, we saw lights, and Scorpion Bay was just a right turn away. The town is lovely… small, and developed just enough to have a few places to stay and one selling gasolina. The Scorpion Bay Hotel still had rooms and the upstairs restaurant was open. One note about the temperature – because Mexico is typically hot, the places we stayed had air conditioning but not heat. If you travel during cooler weather, you might want to bring along an extra blanket.

After dinner, we took a walk and craned our necks to see a sky lit up with stars.

Miles traveled on Day Five: 194, including a decent section of the Baja 500

Coming up on Day Six: Scorpion Bay delivers on its dependable reputation, and we meet a group of VW enthusiasts with an enormous amount of stoke. Stay tuned (bro).

Taking the baja down the Baja: Day Two

April 29, 2018 Leigh Leigh, Surfing, Travel

Note: This is day two of our adventures driving a ’68 bug from Sacramento, California to Sayulita, Mexico. If you missed day one, you can read that recap here.

We woke up to find a thief had been at the bug and gone again, and the only thing he or she wanted was the “travelsurfyoga.com” tape on our window. Sometimes even a cheap marketing ploy gets recognized for its value. With a shake of our heads we piled back into the bug and set our sights on Sunset Cliffs, the birthplace of the fish surfboard.

Sunset Cliffs is beautiful. Pictures don’t do it justice, but I’ll give it my best attempt. Something about the clear blue water juxtaposed with the rocks and sky… I couldn’t stop saying how lovely it all was.

As we drove through town, we spotted two gentlemen and a golden retriever lounging outside a surf shop. The guys smiled at our rig, and we swung into a parking spot. Mark and his friend shook our hands and we checked out their boards for sale. They told us about the nearby surf spot, not working that day unfortunately, and we chatted about a couple of places we planned to see on our way down the coast. Mark told us about Richard, a local surfer and VW enthusiast, who was selling coffee out of a bus down by the water. “It’s a blue VW bus, and he’s a surfer guy with long blonde hair. Stop by and see him,” they encouraged us several times. We promised we would and took our leave.

Sure enough, we stumbled upon Richard and his buses down by the shore. He gave us a nod and his permission to park the bug next to his green VW bus for sale. (It’s priced at 30k, in case you have the interest and a little pocket change.) We ordered coffees and stretched our legs, and after a little chat decided to get back on the road.

Except, the bug wasn’t ready to move. We pressed the button, and it wouldn’t start. Hmmm. Tried again. Richard had ideas and so did his buddy, and we all got out to talk them through. The buddy grabbed a can of starting fluid and gave it a go. Still nothing. After a little more tinkering, we discovered a loose wire in the ignition system. Richard’s friend grabbed a crimping tool and viola! It worked. While it was running, we threw out one more question. The first day the bug stayed in gear just fine, but on day two it was wanting to jump out of fourth, especially when pulling uphill. Richard said it sounded like we needed to check the transmission fluid, and we drove off with that mission in mind, and directions to the nearest Auto Zone.

We pulled into a side lot to add the fluid, check the oil and tighten whatever we could access and turn, even just a smidge. When we went to fill the bug with transmission fluid, the fill port was only hand tight, so the fluid suggestion turned out to be a good one. It didn’t cure the popping out of gear part, but the bug drank a bottle of the stuff and we certainly wouldn’t want to run it dry.

Back on the road, we decided we should adjust our original plan, and cross the border the next morning. Our mechanic stop was well worth it, but it did cost us some daylight, and night time is not the best time to get into Mexico and get paperwork sorted. We pinpointed the best place to stay just this side of the border, in a town called Chula Vista. The El Primo Hotel had a confident name and a friendly manager/owner, who professed to be 79 years old “plus tax”.

I didn’t catch his name, but he was willing to share about his journey from the Philippines to the states when he was just 19 years old. He joined the navy right away, and volunteered for submarine duty. He told us he could see the sides of the hallways down below, begin to curve under the pressure at 3200 feet. We could have swapped stories with him all evening, but we were hungry and not the only guests, so we said good night and walked down the street to an Italian restaurant, with 200 more miles under our belts.

On Day Three we required the services of Smack it with a Hammer Mechanics, and found out beach hotels that appear abandoned sometimes offer the best accommodations. Stay tuned…

Taking the baja down the Baja

April 21, 2018 Leigh Leigh, Surfing, Travel, Yoga

To really tell this story, I must first tell you how the Green Meanie came to be. Edgar and I had been to Sayulita quite a few times, and each time paid a pretty steep amount to rent a car. You pay for the rental, but also for the Mexican insurance (check out VdM), since your insurance in the states is not accepted there. This addition doubles the cost of the rental. We talked about how it would be nice to have an older car there just to run around to restaurants, surf breaks and the airport… maybe something like a VW bug.

The idea sounded good, and it quickly moved from mere conversation to an internet search, and to a specific seller who appeared to have just the thing posted on Craig’s List. It was green, mean, a little beat up and a lot loud. It was a baja bug. Our new friend had been working on it with his grandfather, and had even taken a trip to Mexico in it already. It fit our needs and the price was right, so we made the deal. The seller even towed it to my house, since my stick shift driving now is weak at best, and at that time, was non-existent.

I kept the bug at my place for a while, and taught myself to drive it on weekends. I practiced taking it to the gas station, waving folks around me as I stalled at lights. Edgar came to visit and we added gas and water cans, a high-lift jack, shovel, pick ax and all-terrain tires. We ordered a few spare parts, and then a couple more, and stocked up on zip ties and black tape. A stall mat made for a handy back seat cover, and I got my first drilling experience putting in some second-hand head rests. We threw in some floor mats, ammo boxes for the glove compartments, and made sure we had a gallon of oil at the ready.

The Green Meanie was ready to go home.

Day One:

We left Sacramento with a back seat filled with tools and backpacks, and a roof rack topped off with surf boards. I thought people might give us a second glance, but we were surprised to see how much people were really digging it. We saw lots of thumbs up and plenty of cell phones out for photos as we rumbled down the highway.

Our first stop was Santa Cruz and the Ripcurl store. Edgar wanted to pick up a wet suit for the cold pacific water, and I found a shorty that would be perfect a little farther south. Our rig was drawing attention in the parking lot, so we figured we’d let people know where they could read more about our travels, and borrowed a sharpie from the shop. We wrote our web address on masking tape and slapped it to the back windows on both sides. Cheap, but effective. (We actually have TSY stickers, but I neglected to bring them along, so the tape had to do.)

We stopped every couple of hours for gas and to check the oil. The gas gauge was sort of a guide, but not an exact one. If it got to half, that was more like empty. Did I mention we had a big gas can on the side? We were prepared for long stretches without a gas station, and for pretty much daily guesses at how much we had left in the tank. For a trip like this, the proper mindset is key. Even though we had a mechanic go through it before we hit the road, (thanks FIDS of West Sac!) we understood there might be challenges, and we were ready to roll with them.

The first evening was a chilly one, and we threw on a few extra layers as we cruised into Ventura. We knocked out about 400 miles for our first day, and we were pretty pleased. We had hoped to find a restaurant open, but Saturday night was surprisingly sleepy, and we ended up ordering pizza in.

Day two began with a shocking theft, and moved on to a strange encounter with a surfer who sold coffee out of a VW bus. Stay tuned….

Do You Surf?

April 14, 2018 Leigh Leigh, Surfing, Travel

Every once in a while, I’ll mention surfing in conversation and someone will say, “Oh! Do you surf?”

And I hesitate.

You could say that I surf, or you could say that every once in a while I take a board out into the ocean and try not to drown. My relationship with surfing is tentative, which one could accurately argue is not the way to surf at all. But I’ve come to believe that it is wise to approach the ocean with caution. Is it okay?… Is now a good time?… I could come back later, say… when you’ve calmed down a bit…

My first surf adventure began with an offhand comment from a coworker in Atlanta. I was planning my next vacation, and he recommended a surf school in Costa Rica. Warm sunshine, warm water, and a good way to burn off any extra vacation calories. I was in.

I got into my first lesson and learned how to catch white water. Paddle, paddle, paddle… pop up. Paddle, paddle, paddle… pop up. Not too bad. I had balance and body awareness, and thanks to years of gym-going, a pretty easy time paddling and pushing up. The pop up was not the problem. The ocean was the problem.

When my instructor decided it was time for me to surf green water, I felt like I would never get past the break. Even with a decent amount of time between periods, I would always seem to meet the next set coming in, and the next set didn’t like me much. “Get out!” it yelled at me with each wave. I’d get knocked off my board, knocked completely upside down, sideways, take the tumbling washing machine of the current and then pop up, about 20 feet from where I began. “A little farther,” the instructor would yell, from his super cool position kneeling on his board and cutting through the waves like a hot knife through butter. Okay. Yeah. A little farther.

I eventually would make it out past the break, exhausted and coughing up the half of the ocean I’d swallowed. The last thing I’d want to do is catch the next wave headed in the other direction. Even now, I never do. To me, just getting that far is something to celebrate, and deserves a moment to take in. Breathe. Relax. I let my legs dangle in the water and the sun warm my shoulders, and I watch the others paddle into the force that always seem to scare me and beckon to me at the same time. I wait for the burning in my nose and my shoulders to subside, and when I see a little bump come my way I think… maybe this one. I paddle hard… wait for the ocean to sneak under me and the roar of the wave to carry me… it’s never that I’m besting it, or even riding it… it’s more that we have a tentative agreement. The ocean allows me to come in and stay awhile, and I am grateful.