After a week of luxury living at Rancho Santana in southern Nicaragua, I was missing my feral roots and came home on a mission to convince some friends to head up to El Salvador for some right point break action. Convincing all of my regular-footed friends proved to be an easy task and about 30 hours after leaving the air-conditioned high-speed wifi situation of the VIP suite, I found myself in a truck crammed with people and boards on our way north. The trip to my favorite wave is an easy boat ride across the Gulf of Fonseca to beautiful El Salvador.
We stayed in basic accommodations consisting of cinderblock rooms that resembled jail cells, each containing just a few beds and a fan. There are a couple hammocks out front, the owner’s wife cooking typical food, and icy cold beers. Our rooms were right on the sand, and we were up at 4:00 am every morning to have sufficient time to caffienate before first light and the usual Brazilian morning invasion.
The trip consisted of purely surfing, resting, stretching, and eating and we watched both the sun rise and set everyday from the ocean. It’s the type of place where you always feel like you’re blowing it if you’re too tired to surf, because there are always waves to be had. The beach scene is mellow and simple and the crowd contains all types from local groms to hippie backpackers to yuppie surf dads. No schedule, no happy hour, no corporations, no drama, no stress. Todo tranquilo at the dreamy spot, and though every once in a while I can appreciate the benefits of luxury, I think I know where I belong.