hindsight of CR

In these next entries I would like to highlight a few of the most memorable times I've had hanging out with the ticos in Costa Rica. First of all, surfing. My life for 3 months consisted of surfing at least 3 days a week. I couldn't go more than 3 days in a row because I got beat up by the waves so much and I couldn't muster up the strenght to keep going, though I wholeheartedly wanted to. It is much harder than expected. I am a good snowboarder and learning to shred the gnar was so much easier than surfing. I got smashed only to catch a couple waves once in a while. But it was worth that fleeting moment of being up on the wave and feeling the propulsion of it pushing you through on top of the water, floating and becoming in a sense a part of the wave in one of the most magical settings on earth. We would paddle out past the break, bobbing up and down, looking back into the dense jungle coastline. It truly was a sublime experience, and when the sun set over the palms I nearly reached my nirvana. Sometimes just being out in the water was enough, waiting for the perfect wave or being pummeled by a giant rogue that crushed you with its merciless jaws. I never respected water so much as when I learned to surf. For me it was more dangerous than skating and snowboarding combined! there were several times where I came close to my end surfing, and I divinely had just enough breath to rise to the surf and gasp before another monster rolled by me. 

tranquil part

The surf report said 5 foot waves which weren't so bad. So we went out there to playa grande, a beautiful half hour barefoot hike on the beach and through the jungle past a freshwater creek to a giant beach break with no road access. We, as always started our day with a couple fresh coconuts kindly picked with a bamboo rod to energize and refresh us. After, my buddy Clif and I headed out to the water. We fought our way past the break and found an opening. There we just sat and rested until we could find a potential wave we beginners would thrash, but the breaks were just dumping and closing out behind us all at once. We knew it would be a tough day and pumped with electrolytes and testosterone we muscled through it. Finally we rested, and were ready to roll when a rogue monster came from the horizon. Man this thing seemed huge, and as soon as I saw it Clif and I looked and each other, with faces of fear and thrill. We were suddenly paddling with all of our might to get past this gaudy beast that seemed to shroud our bodies in darkness and just kept rising. Clif was about 10 meters ahead of me. As the mountain of water rose me up toward the heavens I thanked God I had made it past and rolled over this behemoth, but the rule is a set of 3. I looked back and saw the hydrological frankenstein dump all of its energy down, crashing with suprising sound and creating a fine mist where the reminder of a rainbow peaked through as if saying to me that there is beauty in death. My eyes fixed back on the horizon as I saw Clif's mouth mutter something indistinguishable, but I somehow knew it was an oh S**t! The next wave, even bigger, approached faster and this time my paddling was more uncontrolled and splashing. I rested for an instant as I rose past the peak of the wave and a brief moment of relief surged my blood, but suddenly the wave crashed and sucked me and my board back into a hole of oblivion. Clif had made it past the breaker but I was in the pooper. It was probably a 3 meter wave but felt like 6 to me. As I was being smashed into an angry froth my board shot up and I was pulled under into a tunnel of air. The wierdest thing is that I remember being in this tunnel of air and froth under water, floating, and unable to swim in it. I was then pulled under into darkness, and when you're stuck in the washing maching all you can do is curl up into a ball and wait  for it to clear and make your way to the surface. After the seemingly endless rag twisting, things cleared up and I felt the bubbles tickling my skin and the sound of froth rising to the surface. I rushed up and in my last moments of breath I made it to the surface, only to see another beast in its loom coming toward me. I don't know how, but by grace I was still attached to the board and proceeded to plunge twice more into the depths. This is when things get really dangerous for surfers, when there is little time between big waves. Time after time I was gasping for breath, and nothing but fear and occasional gasps for oxygen filled my lungs. After the third wave I swam toward shore, waiting for the smaller, shoreline waves to push me in. I came to shore and sat on a log with a fresh coconut we picked earlier. I just sat there in awe and did not attempt any movement. I was in a silent and spiritual trance as I thanked God for getting me through that experience. I could not move for a long time as I let the soothing sweet saltiness of the coconut juice trickle down my throat and thought of my near death experience. I felt alive and adrenaline was flooding my system, but everything seemed so peaceful as I became aware of the serene sounds of the tide, saltwater drips on my body and fresh sun baking my tan skin. I had barely made it. Somebody asked big wave rider Laird Hamilton once how long he could hold his breath and he replied, "just long enough". I felt the same way.

on playa grande with ad

wax on wax off

Costa Rica's wild beauty sometimes seems domesticated due to the rushing threshold of tourism, but don't be mistaken, people die here every year. Just last year a young man's body was washed up in these waters after he was carried into the sea by a flash flood. People drown in Costa Rica every year. Add in rocks, coral, and riptides, and their are an unsurmountable amount of factors that could potentially turn you into a saltwater taffee.
 There were multiple times when I lost track of where I was and then all of the sudden I found myself in front of a wall of rocks and a riptide pulling me into it, and by way of the creator's purpose for me, a bit of luck, and built stamina, I made it out unscathed but with a new respect for life. I came to Costa Rica in part to learn how to surf, and I left bruised, battered, tormented by water and addicted to something I could never fathom why.

getting ready to take the plunge

rugged coastline