Thanksgiving Lobster

Day 3:

Being abruptly woken up by mariachi music being blasted from a Nissan Sentra with its headlights flashing towards our camp was how we started our thanksgiving here in Baja today. Confused, a bit scared but more so annoyed, we all stayed put, not wanting to instigate a potentially dangerous situation. Thirty minutes later the mariachi alarm clock departed just as the sun was rising over the hills. Groggy and unsure of who, what, why that all just happen, we checked the surf, made breakfast and began packing up to move onto better waves. Just before we left though, the Sentra came back, music blaring. Unsure what was about to happen, we watched a small Mexican man get out of the car with trumpets still blaring from his sound system. With a guilty look on his face he sauntered over to us and began to apologize for playing his loud music, which was still playing, and still loud. He explained that he couldn't help it though and how sometimes when he gets really drunk and does a lot of cocain, he likes to play mariachi music as loud as his car allows and flash his lights at the ocean. Fair enough, but we asked him what the occasion was and where the party was at. He thought about it for a second and then smiled and pointed at himself, saying that he was the party. Laughing, we said adios to the delinquent and headed down the coast in search for the perfect wave. 

Driving two more hours down the 1 we finally hit the town of Colonet, where we turned in on a dirt road and headed towards the pacific. If you didn't already know, it's actually a law that as soon as you hit a dirt road in Baja, you have to crack a cold frosty beer to help you navigate your way to good waves. So cold ones in hand, winding along a perfectly blue ocean, sun shimmering off the water, we drove through the coastal desert, passing nothing but yucca plants and the occasional dried up, brittle cactus. The nothingness was surprisingly beautiful as we curved inland only to come up over a ridge with multiple points ahead of us with tons of potential. The swell was supposed to be at its smallest today and it showed. Each point was breaking, but the tide was high and the size was just a bit too small for the waves to work. 

Just as we were about to give up on it, some gringos road by on dirt bikes and told us that if anything was working it would probably be a spot called Cuatros Casas about 15km north. Optimistic, we thanked the riders and headed on to Cuatros Casas in hopes of surf. Arriving in no time, excited to check the surf, we pulled into the beautiful little community on the point. As we were judging the waves, which were still a bit small, we began discussing what we wanted to do. An American guy that had seen us deliberating, walked over and greeted us. He explained how this was an amazing surf break and with the right swell it could be the best wave you had ever ridden. Now the question was if that swell was going to hit. What sold us though was his invite to his Turkey dinner that night with him and his family, which we were glad he did because after setting up camp, Matt and I had an awesome longboard session and Aaron and Justin ended up catching a bunch of lobster and fish. 

Stoked on our decision we got Baja cleaned up and headed over to Trace and his family's place whom ended up being the gringos we saw on the dirt bikes! Having an amazing turkey dinner, we hung out by the campfire, burning dried up Yucca plants and playing the guitar and talking about Baja, which Trace had been coming to for the past thirty years.