Adventures in Baja

Jason picked me up after sunrise and in less than fifteen minutes we were in Mexico, heading to a house Roger is renting with his friend Mario. By 8 a.m. we passed through the guarded gate into a community near K-55. When we couldn't rouse anyone in the house, we drove a little farther south to check the surf at La Mision. Everywhere it was jumbled, a mix of swells that unfortunately included short-period.

Mario, his rescued puppy, Reyna, and his friend were awake when we returned, and the four of us humans suited up. I followed Jason down the long flight of stairs from the clifftop to the sand and a short distance into the ocean. Then a sideshore current caught me and pushed me far south while I paddled and duck-dived my way to the outside through overhead waves. Almost 15 minutes later, I made it past the whitewater and stopped to rest. My shoulders were burning, but I don't accept denial easily. It took a little more than 5 minutes to paddle north to rejoin the guys, past the only two other surfers out along the sandy and stony beach.

I failed to catch several waves I paddled for and within ten minutes got caught inside by a set. Pointing my board shoreward, I caught whitewater and popped up to ride for a second or two, so yeah, I can say I surfed there. I tried for another five minutes to get back out, cussing the ocean, then acknowledged this wasn't fun and let the ocean spit me out onto the beach.

On the ride back, I listened with a bit of envy as Jason told his wife on speakerphone about his fun rides. But the adventure wasn't over yet. The low tire-pressure light was illuminated on his car's dashboard, and we found there was a screw in one of his tires. Fortunately Jason is fluent in Spanish, an a Mexican operating the air pump at a Pemex directed him to a mechanic.

Although it's illegal to plug a tire in the U.S. due either to the influence of tire manufacturers or safety issues, that's not a problem south of the border. In less than 15 minutes and for only $2.50, we were back on the road. The SENTI line had only a handful of cars ahead of us, and we Trusted Travelers crossed back into the States after waiting just a few minutes.

Tres Amigas en Baja

Tammy and Kristen suiting up

Tammy, Kristen and I made a trip south of the border, stopping at Robert's K-38 Motel to surf.

The waist-high+ waves were soft and a little funky but uncrowded – only one guy out under the spread arms of the enormous Jesus statue on the hill. I blew the landing on a right and then had trouble getting into anything else.

Unfortunately it wasn't long before Kristen cut her finger on her leash and went in, followed by Tammy. They stepped carefully across the cobblestones, giving me a little more time to look for one decent wave in. I didn't want to leave skunked again like the only other time I surfed there.

The break in front of Roberts. I think it's called Teresa's.

When they stood waiting for me on the beach, I reluctantly conceded I'd have to do the paddle of shame. But just a few more minutes... and finally I caught a wave. It sectioned quickly but I rode it out. Score!

Kristen procured some electrical tape to wrap her cut finger, and we drove south in search of better waves. Neither La Fonda nor trash-strew La Mision looked enticing.

Kristen, Tammy and me at La Mision

We headed back to Tijuana and stopped at the Food Garden for lunch. I was surprised to find one of the food booths, Veggie Smalls, was mostly vegan! My tofu hotdog with coleslaw was delicious, although I could tell from the fries and ketchup that I wasn't in the U.S.

With SENTRI, there was almost no wait to cross the border at Otay Mesa. Looking forward to more Baja adventures with my all-girl crew!

Las Gaviotas

Night had not yet yielded to day when Jason and I arrived at Jon's house to begin our expedition across the border to surf in Baja. Jon had mis-set his alarm and the house was dark, but my deliberate pounding steps on the entry deck woke him. Soon we'd loaded our gear into his Jeep, strapped the boards on top, and pointed south.

The day was still new when we turned into the gated community of Las Gaviotas ("The Seagulls")  where a few of Jon's friends had rented a house. Access to the break out front is generally limited to people in the community, yet there were already close to twenty surfers in the water by the time we paddled out. Fortunately the numbers dropped steadily over the more than two hours we were in the water and it never seemed too crowded.

Jon's friend jumped off that rock; we walked to the beach

The waves were head-high with some power. I'd brought my 6'2" since my shortboard didn't get me into any decent waves the last (and only other) time I surfed Baja and the tide was rapidly filling in to a high high. The first wave I caught steepened faster than expected and swept me off my feet. After that, I rode a lot more with better success. Several were really fun and put a grin on my face.

It was Jon's first time surfing in months, after he'd badly hurt his wrist. When he was in position for his first wave, all four of us yielded and called him into it, then hooted when he popped up and rode. So stoked for him! I can only imagine how good that must've felt.

A few times during the session I was punished on the inside, glad of my booties for the rocks I felt underfoot near shore.

Once I was stuck on the treadmill for at least five minutes before I could scratch my way back to my friends in the lineup.

"I asked the ocean for a lull but didn't get one," I told Jon, who's fluent in Spanish (whereas I only studied it for two years long ago in escuela secundaria). "Maybe I need to say it in Spanish. Que es la palabra?" 

"Tranquilo," he said. 

Or "siesta," Jason called from farther away. 

"No!" I said. "The ocean's been taking a siesta for weeks. We don't want any more siestas."

Jon's Jeep, and Jason waiting on the street in the gated community

The thermometer on the bottom of my surfboard read 73° but when a light breeze came up, I started to shiver a little in my 2-mil long jane. After more than two hours, we caught our last waves in. Mine was a right, heading back toward the beach. I had a nice run on the face but it ran out of energy before taking me all the way, so I belly-rode whitewater to shore and washed up happy and tired and stoked.

View from Las Rocas, our post-surf second-breakfast spot

Baja in Pictures

Allison, Ashley and me (photo by Russell Carmona) 

Hang loose! (photo by Russell Carmona)

I'll write about it later. Maybe.

Baja Bound

Tomorrow I'm making my first surf trip to Baja Mexico with a couple of San Diego Surf Ladies. I got my SENTRI pass last fall to allow for quick re-entry to the U.S. but have only used my Trusted Traveler status to breeze through airport security on our Hawaii trip. The other surfistas and I are all "trusted," as is Ashley's car, so we'll make the hour drive from San Diego, surf K-38 which is south of Rosarito, and head back by early afternoon.

It's been more than 20 years since I've driven across the southern border, and I've never surfed there. Gotta say I have a lot of pre-stoke going into this adventure!