The Beast of La Paz

My morning started with a nice massage that loosened the knots from pushing my body harder than perhaps it's ever been pushed. My Fitbit says I'm getting 250-300+ active minutes each day of camp.

Max's board (soon to be missing a fin), mine, and Sherri's

It was back to La Paz at high tide and a reasonable hour again on day three, with the surf down a bit, maybe shoulder- to head-high. Sara joined Sherri, Max and me this time, and the sea turtles came back too. A 10-year-old Canadian girl was ripping on her tiny shortboard. 

The surf was the funnest of the trip. On Max's first wave, he lost a fin and did a spin. Sherri was in her element on a longboard in the soft conditions. Max and Sara struggled a bit on shortboards, and traded off on Stanley's longboard to get more waves. 

The Beast of La Paz made us pay for the fun. Head high shorepound was the price of exit, and it was running all the way up the steep rock beach to the walls. Like yesterday, the coaches would help us out, taking our boards and telling us when it was time to sprint to shore. Stanley had my board and we'd just made it to thigh-deep water when a strong wave knocked me down flat and then starting sucking me back out to sea. I scrambled for purchase, grabbing cobblestones that came tumbling with me, as I was engulfed in a swirl of plastic trash in the roiling whitewater. "Give me your hand!" Stanley commanded, and I grabbed his. He held me in place as the wave receded and then I was able to stand and scramble up to the wall at the base of the beachfront houses.

Low tide. At high tide, the waves run all the way up.

I did not enjoy the afternoon hard stone massage, which pummeled the entire front of my body and painfully bruised both knees, especially the right one. Update July 12: Puro Surf claims it's a great year-round destination for surfers of all levels, huh. Questioned about dangerous La Paz, they took our Instagram conversation private and told me the only other choice when the surf is big is Negrei, 45 minutes away by the Guatemala border. Possibly my coach had not told them, but it's disappointing that after I shared all the details of my harrowing experience at La Paz, including that I had to take a day and a half off to recover from the beating, they stopped responding entirely. I'm not going back.

 

In video analysis later, it was clear I was thinking about correcting things, just not doing it... yet. I took the afternoon off from training to rest and ice my knee, including in the ice bath. Those who went before me made it look easy, especially Myra, who told an off-color joke while on ice. But I abandoned plans for full submersion as soon as I stepped into the trough, and found it difficult to stay in for a whole minute, even with Stanley's encouragement to slow my breathing. Lounging in the warm pool afterward with new friends was a welcome antidote.

Ellie in the ice bath, Stanley laughing