Arriving to Mexico, the six of us shared an off-highway motel room. Our new local friend, Juan, who we met in the motel parking lot was intrigued by our candor. In broken English he said “you guys look like you are looking for trouble!” But we weren’t, our time was short and meant for surf. We swapped up our usual Vitamin T’s (Tecate) forHouse Beer,and we went surfing.
Every morning consisted of the same activities: an early wake up to overhead reeling rights, surf for 2 to 3 to 4 hours then eat some of the best homemade breakfast by a sweet old lady known by the name of "Grandma." Find a new beach break. Drink beer. Surf. Tacos and tortas. Drink beer. Tequila. Then pass out early to relive the dream.
Mexico is still the land ofthe West. The spirit is still alive when you navigate through the coastal highway, passing uncrowded waves as you drive through bumpy dirt roads. We love it down here.