Non-highlight Highlights in Baja

surf trip Oct 22, 2024

Each time we venture to our private island in Baja for a week of surf coaching, we experience something different surf-wise. We are typically blessed with one to two days of larger and more powerful swell, accompanied by fun moderate swell the rest of the week. This is a perfect formula for coaching both from a paddling and takeoff point of view, but also for Barry to coach surf technique and other skills while riding. The ocean normally gives us a small taste of what these surf spots could provide without overwhelming anyone in the group.

This year, we are thankful we got moderate swell. There was less of a taste of the more powerful stuff than in trips past, but the ocean provided waves every day still. I frequently surfed four to five sessions throughout the day, with the least frequent two sessions on the smallest and softest day of the week.

In other words, no matter what the forecast had looked like in years past and did look like leading into this year’s week there, we have had and had waves to surf every day we have visited this wonderful oasis. For that, I’m always amazed and thankful.

Barry and I advised and made corrections to technique the entire week and we could see changes in the video and in real-time for the surfers being coached.

But on this trip, as in years past, the Baja trip highlights aren’t of the surf itself, or the progression surfers made throughout the week. It has always been, and continues to be, the shenanigans that play out through the week, the laughed shared, and the bonds made.

For example, the crew onsite learned early on that our group enjoyed the fresh baked cakes Gina served up, so they strived to find someone with a birthday that week, or month, or next month, or past month, etc. really any excuse so they can celebrate and eat cake. Edgar’s kicked it off, then Barry has a birthday at the end of the month, and Chip the next month,… Any reason to party. And we obliged, despite the variety of birthday songs they would play from the “Wheels on the Bus” to “Bingo to “See you at the Club” to an actual birthday song in Spanish (which was my favorite).

Not only was cake served and eaten following the most exquisite fresh seafood platter and entrees, but libations were plentiful – margaritas for some, topo chicos for almost all; learning to never try to keep up with Froth Lord in surfing nor in drinking late into the night.

Wildlife was also abundant – coyotes, scorpions, fish, lobster, octopus, sea lions (one Lunada Bay style local sea lion stared us down at the top of the point), bat rays, snakes (rubber and real), pelicans, cormorants, frigatebirds and more. I personally tried to tap into the pelican’s behavior each day because it seemed to me they rode the thermals up high into the air right as the harsh offshore wind backed off on the waves and made them look magical again.

The animals also played tricks on us at night. Coyotes would exclaim their bounty with howls and chatter so when we all heard what sounded like coyotes chewing on empty water bottles early in the morning, many of us would grab out headlamps to see what was going on to find the desert as empty as it was when we went to sleep. Theories floated around as each camp headed to grab coffee in the morning – maybe it was boats off in the distance, the sound from hitting the waves traveling far as they went. One in our group ran out of their tent in the middle of the night in his underwear throwing rocks blindly into the brush – “get out of here coyotes!” Even that was unsuccessful in the attempt to stop the strange bottle chewing sound, but was successful in making us laugh out loud in exclaimed joy.

The crew enlightened the early coffee drinkers (while still in the dark) by telling them that it was the bat rays leaping into the air – an entire school of them. An attempt to find them with the spotlights failed, but sitting there listening was such a delight (not only learning what it actually was which was maddening, but also the pure beauty of the activity). Some of us were graced with a smaller version of the bat ray dance in the air during a late morning surf.

Yes, the animals really stole a good portion of the show.

But the real show was comradery. We brought back “surf theatre” some evenings. This is a time-honored tradition where a few of us sit on the bluff and act as the peanut gallery. Topics range in our discussion, from global economics to alternative energy, but all the while we watch and enjoy our friends surfing the waves below. At times, if they get a great ride, we show them our appreciation with hoots and hollers. At most times, we would be deep in conversation when someone would ask, “who’s that?” followed by the answer of who is riding. This was typically when a nickname emerged – Froth Lord (comeback from last trip), The Bodyguard, The Magnet, The Chief, and my personal favorite, Inspector Clouseau (yes, from the Pink Pather), which was a French twist of a nickname from our original trip there.

By the end of the week, my ribs hurt, not from the paddling and surfing, but from the laughing. This article really doesn’t do it justice, but I had to try.

I also realized; nothing had gone wrong to any great extent. This was an anomaly from all of my ventures into Baja. That has never happened. But I had to remind myself the trip isn’t over until I’m back at home. Baja will always be Baja.

And then lightning struck on our way back to the airport (not literally). While eating lazily at a great seafood place (one last glutton of fresh seafood before we departed) we were struck with a flight delay. Okay, no problem. Except for many of us, that meant our connecting flight would need to be pushed.

No worries. The airline will do that. So, I’ll spend a night in L.A. Little to fret over. Except that small delay became a longer and longer one. Rather than wait to make changes to the flight at the counter, we enlisted the most delightful Alaska Airlines rep, Cynthia, to help change almost all of our connecting flights. That poor representative had no clue what she was getting into after she helped one from our group. “Uh, yes, so Cynthia. Do you think you could do us a favor and while we have you, make a few more changes to others in our group?” We hope she got a bonus for that one.

The unfortunate circumstances that arose once we finally departed Mexico was when we landed in L.A. At this point, our group went their separate ways – some terminating their trip and driving back home while others like me and a handful of others had to wait it out for our connecting flight the next morning. What was common with the “waiters” was that we all had these huge board bags that were supposed to be re-checked in after customs and immigration.

I had expected this (not my first rodeo), but after traveling all day, surfing all week, having to lug the board around the LAX terminals trying to find where to re-check the dang thing was exhausting and bluntly frustrating. Because we had arrived after midnight, all of the Alaska connecting baggage staff had gone home and therefore, we were all stuck with our gear. Let’s just say we all “dug deep” as we traversed all over LAX.

That doesn’t sound that tough on the surface, but most of us had booked a hotel nearby and the hotel shuttle was full from other delayed passengers – and hence we couldn’t get our boards on.

So, we finally settled on sleeping in the terminal with our bags. It wasn’t all that bad – kind of why I brought the surf mat (never did surf on it, but sleeping on it was nice). Awoken by an aggressive Alaska agent at 4am was an adventure too, and we could all laugh about the ordeal over coffee and muffins once we all got through security. Finally, like the end of Ocean’s Eleven, we all dispersed.

My travel Spidey sense was still active when I landed in SFO and never subsided until I rolled into my driveway. Then, and only then, was the Baja trip actually over. For me at least. I received reports of others finally making their way home safely.

My brother, poor soul, had spent the night near Union Station in LA to catch the train south to San Diego. All was going well until, while on the train, they reached Fullerton and the train stopped, reversed direction, and headed back to Union Station. My sister-in-law ended up driving up to get him.

My friends Nick, Dave, and Jan had to head up to the great northwest, connecting in various cities to reach their destinations.

But everyone made it safely home, with plenty of fun tales to tell.

Ahh, yes, Baja. Where the waves are often times NOT the highlight of the trip (even though they are very often super fun). The trip’s antics overshadowed the waves like a shark at a goldfish convention. And that’s what a surf trip is really all about.