Swell present from Santa! 

The Christmas Swell

OK, this one was special.


I feel how a mountaineer must feel when they have at last scaled that elusive peak, a runner who has been training to break a time barrier, a personal goal that has been in the making for over twenty years. This was the fulfilment of an ambition that goes back to those first, floundering attempts to padle out through the shorebreak at Apple Bay, long long ago.

Here was one of those opportunities we surfers dream of and dread: a challenge beyond any we have yet encountered. We know it looks possible, it looks good even. But the sheer size, the overwhelming power, the extraordinary visual contradiction offered by a wave that is travelling faster than any you have ridden before, is higher than any you have looked down from; somehow playing out it's magnificent last moments in slow, slow motion, in front of your eyes. Worse: there is no one else out, you've got a couple of non surfing buddies and a nervous looking wife on the beach wondering why you're hesitating, and theres no excuse! There are boards to hand, time available, nothing to stop you paddling into the maelstrom of the shorebreak but your own pounding heart.

And that same heart chills for a moment when the first wave of the first set rounds the point, pushes out of the deep water over the shelf: that moment of suppressed panic, almost of total disbelief that beyond is another, and then another, that somehow these goliaths are able to defy gravity for long series of seconds before toppling, pitching tens of feet forwards and exploding into boiling clouds of thundering white water.

This all came about because we had been searching the coast South of Puerto Vallarta, and North of Manzanillo for a good place to hole up for Christmas. The surf literature is pretty thin on detail for this stretch of coastline: nothing on the web, nothing in publications like the Stormrider guide. Not even any tell tale boards hanging over the backs of pick-ups on the dirt roads... nothing, not a thing to indicate that there were epic breaks in this area other than a map, showing a hundred miles of very exposed coastline, numerous rocky points and beaches. There simply had to be surf here somewhere!

We had almost decided to stay back to the north, knowing that this next strectch could be trying. Punta de Mita had been pretty good- all the children had ridden waves (Jemima her longest ever), but the whole area was being developed and was one huge clog of diggers and earth moving equipment, villas and hotels. Sayulita looked like a fine wave but sadly overrun with tourists. We made the decision to head into the unknown.

The search began with a hair raising dirt road journey through the mountains to the coast due west of Vallarta. We discovered some incredible beaches with yet more turtle conservation camps, pretty and remote fishing villages; and some tucked-away high class hotels- but the swell was as small as we had seen for a while and any surf potential was hiding out of sight.

At the expense of a tyre and a shock absorber we ploughed on, the children increasingly anxious that christmas was going to be spent on the road and not on a tropical beach! The dirt roads gave way once more to the tarmac as the main road swung back to the coast and we rejoined the traffic heading south. We started to feel as though we would have to forget surf until after christmas, in favour of finding a child friendly campsite to hang the stockings in. This was not an easy moment, as the last forecast we had seen showed 40ft waves in the far North Pacific spread over a vast area- we knew a big swell was on the way some time in the next week.

We decided to take a chance on one more detour before heading for a safe campsite around the tourist area of Melaque- and suddenly luck was back with us again. We had seen noted in one of our campsite guides as an alternative to the more formal sites of Melaque- a place with no facilities, but off the beaten track. It sounded good and looked on the map like an exposed enough place to take in swell from most directions.

We arrived to find the campsite access road virtually impassable for a big vehicle like ours, but somehow scraped through the steep and rutted track onto a sand spit, perhaps a hundred metres long and fifty metres wide, the Pacific on one side, a calm bay on the other; and at the end of the sandspit a large rocky outcrop a hundred metres high, draped in dry tropical vegetation. We were met at the bottom of the access track by a silver haired Indigena who introduced himself as Chuy, directed us to a lovely pitch sheltered by the rock, overlooking the bay and only fifteen yards from the water;s edge. We all knew instantly that we had landed somewhere special.

Just how special was only to become apparent as the long forecast swell finally hit. These waves had travelled a long way, and had mellowed offshore to a long (18 second) period 6-8ft swell. It was when they landed on the steeply shelving beach behind the rocky access road to the campsite that we realised how much energy was still contained in these pulsing messengers of distant turmoil. The beach break was a solid 15ft crest to trough and landing on dry sand- I knew that all we needed to find was a reef, or channel somewhere for this to be a once in a lifetime opportunity.

It happened that we had met a very laid back Alaskan family on the beach who introduced us to one of their friends. Carlos knew exactly where we should go: "I've seen a place up the coast a few miles, it looks surfable to me- but I've never seen anyone on it, I'd love to see someone ride it!". It was enough of a hint to get us in the back of his pick-up for a recconaisance mission.

By now the swell had picked up to the point that it was wrapping a full 270 degrees around our sandspit/rock outcrop and amazingly, the coral reef in front of the campsite was starting to break too! Enough to get the longboards going and even Tas, now confident enough to be skimming over coral heads, was catching waves right in front of the tent.

Leaving the children with our new friends on the beach, we set off in Carlos's pick up, via a series of dusty tracks and through palm fringed fields of avocado trees and tomato vines. Passing through a number of lovely villages decked out in the full christmas regalia of flashy bunting, strung criss cross above the entire length of the village streets and around the main squares; the atmosphere was of a fiesta already gearing up to fever pitch- with a couple of days still to go before the main event.

At last we wound our way down the last few yards of a gorgeous, wide, green river valley, to see the beach ahead steaming with salt spray. Rainbows of sunlight sparkling through the mist told of the immense amount of water vapour hanging over the beach on an otherwise bone dry day.

The surf was huge- a five- wave twenty foot set was running down the point at the far end of the beach and nearer us, on the beach itself a mass of foaming white water was swirling around in rips and eddies. Backwash from the rocks at the point and from the steep sloping sand sent waves hurtling back to sea, and where they met with the incoming swells, the collision would cause explosive fountains of spray to fly chaotically into the air.

It looked pretty intinidating at first, but off the point was a reef, and a channel, and between sets there was a way out through the chaos. It was rideable- there was no doubt about it.

I had broaght along a couple of boards- my tried and trusted friend from England, a 7'4" funshape by Roger Tout of Bude, which had been a good all round board in anything from 2-10ft surf, a good paddling board with plenty of volume under the chest- an oversise shortboard shape really. I had also bought, in Santa Cruz, a 7'2x 19" McCoy semi gun by Greg Pautsch, mainly with Puerto Escondido in mind. I had tried the gun out at Jalama, California and Cerritos in Southern Baja, so I knew it to be a fast and true board... but this was scary stuff, I needed the comfort of my trusted travelling companion. I looked at the waves, looked at my boards, picked up the 'Tout and dived in.

I now know that it was a daft decision- but at the time my chest was exploding with the pounding my heart was giving it- and I was glad to have a quick paddle out between these huge sets. I made it out as far as I thought neccesary, and sat up,trying to control my nerves with long, slow breathing excersises, knowing that even if this didn't work, at least there would be plenty of oxygen flowing around my system when the moment finally arrived.

Which inevitably, it did. The breathing excersises ground to an abrupt halt as I watched, with morbid fascination, the first wave of the set rear up 50 yards to seaward. I could see already the wave behind and knew there was another 3, maybe 4 to follow. I knew the first was going to be an easier option, that the second and third were probably already too far gone for me to contemplate, I waited for the moment turned... and paddled.

The lift, when it came was more like a disney ride than a surfing wave- it took an unfeasibly long time for a start, from the first elevator whoosh to the precarious moment when the up movement slows, the forward movement increases, and the descent begins. Then there was this whole, extraordinary long drop- not a tense, quick bottom turn as required when the drop from crest to trough is a few feet, but a charging sleigh ride of a descent, straightlining down this long stretch of water, which however fast I tried to get to the bottom seemed to continue sloping down ahead of me as the wave sped towards the shore. Several seconds passed, and still this thrilling descent went on.

Eventually the crest of this behemoth pitched above and behind me and I tried to dig the rail of the board beneath me to claw some height back up the face, but the board had red-lined long ago- somewhere on the way down the slope the 21" width had begun overcome the 7'4 length in the unequal struggle with the forces of speed and stability. I popped over a small ripple of foam and flew off the back into the avalanche of white water descending from above.

I knew immediately that my choice of board was flawed- I needed the narrower, more nimble gun, but there was no way I was going back in through the shore pound now- and anyway I wanted another of those crazy sleigh ride drops even If the bottom turn was impossible- the gun would wait till tomorrow.

A couple more of these crazy journeys down this long wave face took another hour- for a start the sets were 12-15 minutes apart, and careful wave selection was required- the wide sets were peaking 50 metres from the "take off" spot, many of the bigger waves were closing out, and I was still nervously shoulder hopping in my quest to balance the needs of safety in this unknown place against the desire to make the most of the opportunity. Eventually I caught a ride in and was dumped unceremoniously on the sand by the shorepound.

Christmas took priority the following day, but the swell held, and we returned, two families and Carlos, on Boxing day, to find the beach as deserted as we had left it and the swell a mellower triple overhead. This time, without hesitation the McCoy was thoroughly waxed and pressed into service.

What a place, and although I have asked around and heard that it has been surfed before, it was still totally empty when we were there. Thanks Santa!!

Matt's surf report

Above Jalama California below Richard Catherine Justin and Taylor











Point Arena, Northern California.

Surfing in this area is spiced up a little by it's location in the heart of the “red triangle” (zone frequented heavily by Great Whites). We were fortunate to be here before our boards arrived at San Francisco docks, they having been shipped out from the UK by Sea Mail. This meant I was not even tempted by the 4-6ft glassy conditions off the point at this lovely beach; and therefore spared the stress of sitting out in the lineup alone with only seals, otters and the men-in-grey-suits for company.


On the subject of shipping boards, we thought this would be a good solution to the problem of lugging piles of heavy and cumbersome kit around airports etc. We had a quote from a UK company for $180.00 sterling to take a 3m x 600mm x 600mm box from home to San Francisco. This would be enough for the five surfboards we had then plus all the wetsuits, hats, boots, gloves; and, weight not being an issue, as many school books as we could fit in.

It all seemed like an excellent idea, particularly when the lorry arrived at the farm and we simply lifted the box on with the tractor-loader, knowing that the next time we saw it we'd be unpacking it in California! The cost was an issue- but many airlines charge $20 or more to carry a single board these days. We also were now able to take a coach all the way from South Molton to Heathrow with rucksacks, saving the cost of driving, parking, renting a bigger car at the US end and thinking about what to do with the car in England for the next year.

As it turned out nothing is ever as simple as our optimistic plans would have it. There were hefty fees for warehousing in the US ($150). In logistical terms the shipping time of three weeks was extended to five by innefficiencies at the US end. In order to collect the shipment in San Francisco we had to mail a hard copy of the bill of lading to Los Angeles, with payment. They would then send a release document back for us to present to the office in San Francisco. No credit cards were accepted in the LA office so we either had to go to a bank, and buy a money order to post with the bill of lading, or pay in advance at the office in San Francisco and then wait for the release document before going back to the office in San Francisco for the box itself! Phew.

This was all symptomatic of the incredible innefficiencies latent in the US commercial system. For such an advanced economy, in one of the most high tech regions in the world, it is ludicrous that it would eventually take nearly as long to pay for and process the paperwork for the shipping as it did for the shipment itself to go by lorry from Devon to Felixtowe, by ship across the Atlantic, through the Panama canal to LA and then by lorry again to San Francisco. Particulary irritating given that we had paid (so we thought) for the shipping in England, in advance; and all the more so that we were staying, during this two week delay, within 5 minutes of Pacific surf in Montara!



Bolinas, central California

Still without boards we were pissed- off not to have them here. Great sandy beaches with miles of surf, peeling and long-boardable, with outside reefs to get the shortboards going. The children combed the tidal flats at low tide and were entranced by the numerous starfish: there seemed to be many different colours of these- bright oranges, greens, purples and as we watched, we became aware of occasional spurts of sea water, switching on and off like little fountains, in the broad sweep of soft reef around them. Every now and again, hilariously, one would fire right up a shorts-leg, provoking squeals of shock.

Eventually we tracked the source of the onslaught down to an anenome like creature, buried in the sand. Why they were shooting water in the air has never been properly explained to me, but I like the idea that they were having a great laugh at our expense.

This rates as a really excellent family spot with restaurants in the village and all relatively off the beaten track (the locals have ripped down the signs to the village to keep people away and the authorities have given up putting them back, so if you haven't got a map its easy to miss this place). No hassle at all despite this obvious attempt by locals to keep it quiet. Very mellow, artsy little town.

Montara

Fast and powerful beach break, with a tendency to close out- however this break produces barrels consistently for a short but fun ride. It was the nearest (5 minutes) break to Richard & Katherine's place where we were staying for our first month. I surfed it early in the morning with glorious sunshine, zero wind and only a couple of hooting locals in the water. The sea was a bit rippy & heavy for the kids, buton the beach they found a whole load of starfish which were a huge success.


Princeton (Half Moon Bay)

This is a good spot for everyone. The inside break is quite mellow for the children/ learners and there's a long stretch of sand to play on, a popular place for families to come and while away the afternoons. This was the first place the kids surfed in California and they were surprised by the power of the waves.

The sheer size of the Pacific means that the wave length and period (time between the waves) is consistently greater than that on the Atlantic coasts of the UK. The result is that a small looking swell can contain much more energy than it's height suggests-spread out over a longer distance. It all looks gentle, until the swell hits the shelving beach- and the energy is compressed. The wave that develops has nowhere to go but up- and over. The children took a long time to adjust to this after the slow and mellow waves back home at Saunton Sands.

When it's on, this break can produce long rides down the harbour breakwater over a sand bottom, so it gets quite crowded, but everyone seemed very friendly. There is additional interest here in that Princeton harbour is the launch spot for the jetskis which tow surfers out to Mavericks, California's most famous big wave spot. Mavs is off the point which protects Princeton harbour from the winter NW swells and on the few days per year when conditions are right, traffic clogs the lane out to the point and thousands gather to watch hell-men charging the mountainous waves.


Davenport Landing

We stopped here on an evening when the sun had been lurking behind cloud all day and suddenly burst out beneath the clouds as it set into the Pacific, bathing the beach and cliffs in a bright orange-pink glow. The waves were backlit, so that when paddling out between rides one could see surfers riding in, silhouetted in the fiery sunset developing to the West. The water around the take-off zone boiled continuously with the surges and eddies of current over the kelp and reef below; seals and sea otters popped up randomly in the lineup, and all-in-all it was a very dramatic scene indeed.

This beach boasts two great breaks- a long right coming off the point to the north of the beach and a right/left A-frame reef point to the south. It makes for plenty of waves to spread the locals out, and this, together with it's reputation as a Great White hangout helps to keep the atmosphere in the lineup friendly- everyone needs company out there!

Incredibly Davenport Landing is a mere 15 miles to the north of that Mecca of Californian surfing, Santa Cruz, yet despite a decent swell and light winds, the atmosphere was unexpectedly low key and mellow. Perhaps we just got lucky.


Santa Cruz

We spent quite a bit of time in the Santa Cruz area. It was near here in Scotts Valley that we eventually bought our bus, but before deciding on the vehicle we scoured the area for alternatives, following up ads in the local press, visiting dealers.

It was an opportunity to see something of this colourful town, and we loved the relaxed, creative atmosphere; charming wooden houses, set in leafy streets running down to the Pacific; and the healthy variety of independent shops competing in the centre with the usual chainstores.

At times it seemed as though everyone here had some connection with the surf scene- not just the many small shops directly selling surf gear, and the mirror-glassed, revolving-doored offices of the heavyweight multinationals: O'neill, Billabong... Wherever we went, whatever we tried to do, it was impossible not to be drawn into conversation about the prospects for the next swell, analysis of the last swell, current conditions... and when these subjects were exhausted, well, there were always last years' epic swells to consider, and the year before's!

We found ourselves driving slowly along streets behind a phalanx of wetsuited cyclists, some riding one- handed with a board tucked under the free arm, others sporting custom made surf bikes with special arms welded to the frames to carry boards. And what boards! Beaten up old malibus, fetid with wax, competed for attention with gleaming works of art, solid balsa constructions inlaid with mother of pearl and ebony. Each had their place in the lineup, whether in the sea or at the traffic lights. Skateboarders were almost as numerous as the surfing cyclists, zipping in and out of the traffic.

Numerous legendary surf breaks grace the city's rocky, indented shoreline. Capitola, Pleasure point, The slow, pure longboard wave at Mullin's, many others; most famous of all, Steamer Lane. So called because the low bluffs overlooking the break were also the point from which steamers arriving from the North were first seen. The Lane, on it's day produces a fast, long wall on which highly charged locals carve smooth lines, duck under feather- fine crests, pull into heavy, barrelling tube rides. The cliff running along the point juts out at such an angle, that knowledgeable spectators are provided with a fine vantage point from which to criticise, whoop and shoot the breeze.

We were lucky enough to park unmolested by the police, overnight, in a quiet street within a hundred yards of the point; and although the swell was small, the Lane was ridable. Dawn revealed perfect, glassy waves running down the point. This was to be a pilgrimage fulfilled: just for a short time, to be a part of this place with all it's hype and mystique, to glide over the rock and kelp, in the wake of so many legendary figures. Localism? Crowds? Well maybe it exists, but not when we were there.

Morro Strand

A 300ft high sugar-loaf shaped rock, jutting unexpectedly from the sea provides a dramatic backdrop to the beach here. Humans have attempted to steal the show with an even larger power station on the beach. Viewed from the sea the two are neatly juxtaposed against one another: the beautiful and all powerful forces which thrust this edifice of rock out of the sea, the ugliness and incongruity of the smokestacks, high tension lines, concrete service buildings. One, gleaming and proud in the filtered sunlight, a home for thousands of sea birds, reef dwelling fish, the kelp forest; the other brooding and surly, devoid of movement and life, save for the smouldering chimneys, dirty and grey

Perversely, nature has taken advantage of man's attempts to ruin the local environment. Cooling water pumped from the sea through the heat exchangers in the generating plant, comes back to the beach several degrees warmer than when it left, making for a chaotic scene in the water, fish school around the blooms of plankton and algae, pelicans dive from above; marine mammals circle enthusiastically.

Surfing here was great entertainment as a result- porpoises flew in on the waves, somersaulting high into the air, scornful of the humans floundering on their synthetic boards, in their artificial skins- no contest there. Seals popped their inquisitive, whiskered noses out of the water within yards of the surf line.

The waves were fast and powerful - no shortage of swell in this exposed place. Motels and campsites along the beach front cater to holidaymakers.

Jalama Beach/ Cracks/ Tarantulas



We had long held this area in our sights, because the map showed a 20 mile, tortuous access route, with no way out but back again: a combination guaranteed to filter out the bulk of travellers on highway one. This was also the last public access road to the coast before Point Conception, where the cliffs turn ninety degrees, the coastline shifts it's aspect from West to South; and softens into the beaches around Santa Barbara. By now we were into October and early Northern hemisphere swells, too late for the bulk of the Souths. This area had to be a good bet for waves.

Having ignored the sign (thoughtfully, with fourteen miles still to go) indicating that the campsite was full, optimism on this occasion paid off: as we approached the gate, the state parks officer grinned broadly, “you guys just lucked out!” They had had a cancellation for the weekend in the last 5 minutes- the spot was ours, a pitch overlooking the beach.

It turned out to be our favourite coastal campsite in California. The swell was just beginning to pick up as we pitched camp, and the sun set over the sea. All night we were woken by the rumble of waves, occasionally interspersed with rumbling trains, which roll along the coast here.

Dawn revealed a panoramic view of the bay stretching to the north of the campsite. To the south surfers were stumbling out of tents and vehicles, pulling on wetsuits. Pelicans were beginning their ariel assault on the fry in the protected zone inside the kelp forest. The kelp itself, gleaming yellows,greens & browns in the early morning sun, rose and fell gently on the swell. Sea otters and seals lazing and rolling in the fronds, safe in the knowledge that this was their place, their home.

There are three main breaks within walking distance of the campsite: the beach, closest, making for a fast barrelling ride and a favourite with the air-show experts. When we were tired of playing in the sea ourselves, just watching some of these young chargers flying off the waves six, eight feet into the air was great entertainment.

Cracks is half a mile to the south, a reef below the cliffs forming rights and lefts with channels on each side. My favourite break here, however, was Tarantulas. This epic reef point a mile along the beach, south of the campsite was the least crowded (only four out for the few days we were there), held a bigger, better shaped wave, produced a short barrelling left; and the rights ran for a good hundred yards into the channel south of the reef. We had double overhead days and perfect glassy conditions from dawn till noon for much of our stay here. Needless to say exhaustion was the prime factor in motivating us to leave.

I began to get a feel for the way in which discipline is managed in the lineup on these prized California breaks. One morning at Tarantulas I had joined a couple of grizzled locals and we had been sharing waves happily for a half hour or so before the next surfer paddled out. A young lad from Santa Barbara, long blonde hair, he was a good surfer and obviously used to the cut and thrust atmosphere of more crowded breaks further south. A couple of sets after he joined us he took off inside one of the wise old men of the point, called sharply to enforce his clear priority on the wave, and set off down the line.

I knew at once that the peaceful atmosphere of the morning had been shattered: this may have been a correct priority call, but it wasn't his turn . There was no need for such an aggressive call: there were plenty of waves, few of us.

As he returned to the lineup the young pretender was given a straight forward, old fashioned dressing down: “Listen buddy, if you want to surf out here, you watch your manners”. The words were clear and sharp in the calm, still air of this lovely morning. No swearing, no kicking and screaming, nothing much more was said. It was enough. Eventually, chastened, the lad paddled off to Cracks, a few hundred yards north. I felt a little sorry for him, but I feel that the principle of insisting on respect and good manners over “rules” was the right one.

I was to come across this calm and straightforward approach to the sharing of waves again in Baja, where many of the older Californian surfers have chosen to spend their winters. Most of these knowledgeable waveriders have seen a lot of the ocean, they know exactly where the take-off spot is, they know that anyone can paddle themselves quietly into a position where they have “priority”. For these wise old souls however, the effort has already been made to travel to a remote and beautiful place; and then to get up at dawn to be out there with other like minded pilgrims. All that remains to complete the picture for them is for everyone present to be getting their fair share, revelling in each others' pleasure .

Ultimately the way in which this code of conduct is managed: through respect and good manners, makes for a happier and less tense scene than that based on “rules” which are too easily circumvented, or simply ignored. Those of us who have graduated through the crowded lineups of the eighties and nineties have a lot to learn from our forebears about what makes for the perfect session.

Santa Barbara

Rideable but not epic when we passed through. We surfed a couple of the beachbreaks during the few days we were based here.

Rincon

An epic four to six foot day of perfect glassy conditions: we saw the best and worst of Rincon in that it was as perfect yet crowded as one could imagine a wave could be, literally hundreds in the water spread over the three main peaks, even though plenty of waves were coming all the way through from the indicator to the cove: it all made for a lot of fun just watching the chaos- occasionally a true artist would thread through the mayhem- and the kids got a couple of rides in the inside cove.

Huntington Pier

Tas and I paddled out just to catch a wave here at this famous place. We even paddled under the pier in between sets. At night students were jumping off the pier into the sea and surfing in the glare of the street lights. I think, on balance, Santa Cruz edges it for me

Baja Surf Report

Surf Camp in the dunes at Punta Conejo

Northern Baja














We bypassed the known breaks in the semi developed area just south of the US Border, but as we drove south along the coast saw plenty to whet the appetite. 3-4ft and bright silvery blue in the afternoon sunshine, a surprisingly light afternoon onshore breeze doing little to damage the face. Just to the north of Ensenada Punta Miguel looked good, and not too spoilt.

Our first proper surf check was Punta San Thomas, just South of Ensenada.

Punta/ Puerto/ Boca San Thomas



The effort of driving out here was greater than the reward, not enough swell to get the breaks really going; but the potential was clear and the scenery fantastic. The fish camp was a little intimidating for Suzanne here- no families, just tough men. We prefferred the beach break at the Boca (rivermouth) on the way to the Puerto. There was a pod of pilot whales cruising the surf line here.

Punta Camalu

This was a good longboard wave and the reef runs for hundreds of metres down the point. Camping on the cliff overlooking the break was a little scary, but fun. Access to the beach was a bit of a climb, but no-one else was out so the break was empty. Beach just pebbles here so no sandcastles.

Punta San Jacinto (Freighters)

A classic spot, not to be missed; and although there are more buildings here than at most of the remote point breaks in Baja, there was still easy access to reasonable beach side camping. The freighter gives the break a twist. Great right longboard/learning wave on a small swell and a firing, screaming ride on a big day. There were waves for everyone here.

Punta/Puerto Santa Rosalita

Lovely little fishing town with a number of really good breaks in this area. The beach inside the point is protected from the bigger swells and this makes it a good option when the swells are unrideably huge in midwinter. This is also a good access point for the other breaks of the “seven sisters” further north. There is a dirt road running north and south along the coast from here but four wheel drive is essential. Provisions are available in town.


Punta Rosarito (The Wall)

The best of the best of Baja. Mad drive in, great fishing, great surfing, great camping overlooking the break, great scenery, incredible wildlife, great people, we loved it! My previous blog about the campsites of Baja was inspired by this place. One of the most consistent swell magnets due to it's exposed location with South, North and West swells all getting in here, but particularly the winter swells. One day I'm going to live here in a hovel for six months.

Juncalito (Sea of Cortez)

We caught the wind swell from a gale in the north of the sea of Cortez, right in this little cove, deep in the bay of Conception. In theory no swell at all should get in here, but it was very popular with the kids who all found rideable 1-2ft waves here. Lovely Palapa camping right by the water's edge.

Punta Conejo

This was another classic Baja destination. Long and uncomfortable access route through wild and dramatic cactus forest, leading to a beautiful free camping area in sand dunes with low bushes to provide some shelter from the wind. The best wave here is a long, steep left which runs for three hundred metres into the cove to the north of the point. The rights off the reef work well too, especially in winter, on the north swells. The reef off the point is quite wide so it is easy to get out of position and get caught inside the bigger sets. Take a bit of care here that you don't end up washing over the urchin infested rocks! Water is warm enough for most to be in trunks, although I was still in my summer suit here. Spearfishing inside the reef was good and the other campers and local fishermen friendly. Whales cruising by every day.




Punta San Pedrito

The campsite for this break overlooks the boulder strewn break. It's not really a beginners wave this- odd boulders just below the surface in the impact zone, but it is a really excellent and uncrowded wave. Yet another right point. The glassy morning conditions smooth out the steep take off so that the boulders are a bit less intimidating; and once on this wave it is possible to skirt the rocks all the way down to the sandy beach. A good option this if Cerritos is crowded out.

Cerritos

We had our first taste of serious North Pacific winter swell here- triple overhead sets booming around the point for two days and double overhead for most of the rest of the time. Despite this the angle of the point breaks the swell enough to give the learners a chance here- and its a sandy bottom too so no nasty rocks to fall on. All the children caught waves here, as did Suzanne. This is a great beach break as well as a long point, so the crowds from nearby Cabo are spread out reasonably well. Warm water, Free camping on the beach and taco/cerveza stand by the car park. We loved it.

Zippers

This was the only one of the South facing Baja breaks we surfed- May through September swells from the roaring forties are the best wave generators for these breaks, so we didn't spend a lot of time here. It's also the most crowded area in Baja. Still we caught Zippers on a rare day when it was just about rideable and so Tas & I surfed it just to say we had...