Whenever I’m in Costa Rica, heading south, I stop to visit The McConnells on the way down. Carol and her two children, Casey and Terri, are ex Santa Barbara residents. Carol’s husband Robbie was a really good friend, who left us all way to early in a tragic accident at S.B. harbor. Carol and the kids started a new life down in Costa Rica shortly after, and for the last 15 years they’ve called Costa Rica home.

The house they live in is a dream. Surrounded by 100% Costa Rican jungle, it sits on the banks of a good size river. The soothing sounds quickly help wash away the stress and tension from two days of traveling. It's easy to gather your thoughts and prioritize tasks at hand, but usually after a day or so of just vegging out and drinking tons of good strong coffee, I get a little antsy and have to make a beeline for the beach.

Our trip was blessed from the get go. I booked the tickets using air miles nine months ago. Then, a week before we were to leave, I checked all the swell forecasts, and low and behold there was swell coming. How’s that? Not just some piddly, weak, swell but a real live deep-water six foot southern hemi groundswell. All three forecasters were in agreement, it was gonna be 6-8 ft the entire 10 days of our trip. Yippee!

As we drove down the canyon from Carol’s, towards the beach at Dominical, I strained my eyes to see the surf. We finally reached the coast and I could see the swell--solid and consistent. Dominical beachbreak was closed out and whomping as usual, so we headed the car south, and started our four hour drive to Pavones.

I’ve been out to "the end of the road" three times now. Pavones is an unreal wave, that very well may be the longest left in the world. I've ridden G-land, Ulu, Raglan, Asu, and Cloudbreak, and can truthfully say the lefts I’ve gotten at Povones are way longer than any of those spots. Three or four long waves in the midday sun, and you're done.

Going on some inside info, we decided not to take ferry across the Rio Clara. There hasn’t been much rain and rumor is that the ferry only goes at high tide, and only takes one car at a time. We didn't want to risk an hour wait in the equatorial heat, so we opted for the slightly longer drive to the Panamanian border, than west out to Punta Barrica.

When we got there, there was plenty of swell running. I tried to talk the girls into just dumpin' me off at the beach, so they could go find a place to stay and check in and stuff, but they weren't buyin it.

We cruised down the "Cabinas de Ponderosa" to see if there were any rooms. The place is owned by a really nice couple, Marshall and Angela who have been there since day one. I stayed a couple a times before and have always had a good time. The rooms have A.C., the food is great and available all day, and they have a big rec room with ping pong, DVD, TV, and music. There’s a fridge stocked with cold beer, water and sodas, and they operate on the honor system, where you mark down how much you consume. It’s a great place to stay for the younger crowd, who like to stay up a little later and have a couple of beers before hitting the sack. You can walk to the point from there, but you wouldn’t want to do it more than once or twice a day. It’s hot--you're only six degrees north of equator there, and at 60 nautical miles a degree, that’s a mere 360 miles.

Because it was Easter week, Marsh had nothing for us, so we headed down the road and up a hill to "Casa Siempre Domingo" (always Sunday). Owned by a couple with one child, Gregorio and Heidi keep a really clean ship at their bed and breakfast on the hill over looks Pavones. Heidi doesn’t cook lunch or dinner, but every morning you wake up to the smell of fresh brewed coffee, bacon and eggs of your choice, and a large plate of local fruits and juices. It’s a great way to start another very long day of three hour surf sessions mixed with intermittent lounging on the towel with wifey in the shade.

Latin Americans are really big on Easter-- it’s mass exodus from the cities to the beach Easter week--and they don’t pack light either. You can see them driving, couch from home tied to the roof. T.V. and generator in the trunk. They plop their bed down in the sand, set up a kitchen for mama and commence having a good time. The kids love it. Luckily not many of them surf…

After three days of six hour sessions in the water, the nubs on the bottom of my ribs were sore and red. The insides of my thighs were rubbed raw from the wax on my rails, and I couldn't hear a ring out of my right ear. The whole world sounded like an echo chamber, but ya know what? I’m not complaining. Anyway, there’s no sympathy for surf related injuries. Every married surfer knows that... Late in the day on Thursday, I dragged my self out for another session. No one was around, Just me and two guys off the top, with 10 foot faces grinding around the point. One set had 15 plus waves. Pavones is the kind of place where when you see a set coming your better off just putting your head down and paddling as hard as you can out and over. The next wave is always way out there and down the line.

I glanced around to check out who was around me. No one….just one chick from Florida with a pink surf hat 50 yards down the line. Just what the doctor ordered. Finally, just me and the waves. No pesky group of 20-something year old pro surfer wannabes trying to paddle up my back or contesting my position. And after one of the worst winters ever recorded back home, it felt really, really good. My next wave was probably the longest left I’ve ever ridden, close to a quarter mile of top pumping and backside driving at full speed. Hot offshores were blowing in my face and grooming the waves as well. The wave stretches in front like an unpainted canvas, waiting for me.

That night the surf was really loud. I could barely sleep. I was overly tired and sunburnt from head to toe. With each cracking lip came a little squirt of adrenalin. In the dawns early light, I could see the whole GolfoDulce stacked up with solid swell. I was too amped to eat. I guzzled down a bunch of water, left the girls at home and headed down. It was cranking. I tried to pace my self. I waited for a lull but half way out, a 17-wave set came. I took 'em all right on the head. By the time I got out I was already exhausted.
It was 7:30 am and 95 degrees in the sun. The water was like 84. I was fading fast and after three or four of the best waves I’d had in sometime, I was done. Maybe overdone. But I knew that it was 'back to business as usual' in the states, so I had to get back on the treadmill and paddle until my arms couldn't paddle anymore. I was physically ruined, but mentally at ease.

After 40 years of chasing surf around the world, I’m still amazed on how content I feel, and how right everything in the world is after five days of good surf.
After a couple a days back in Cali at work, I knocked off early and paddled out at Rincon for a surf. It was freezing cold, the water was so brown I couldn't see the Al Merrick logo on my deck, and the same little kid back paddled me two times for what amounted to muddy three foot mushy whitecaps. My Jacuzzi was calling.
With a tall Guinness in hand I gloated to myself about last week's incredible surf and also try to muster up the strength for the next eight weeks of work. Then, it’s off to Mainland Mex. The area between Pascuales and Ixtapa is holding. It’s like the Big Sur of Mexico, and after a really good trip there last year with Hog and Joel, I promised myself to go back with my wife to do some exploring. It’s called the Bandito Coast (for good reason) and probably not the best place to travel alone with your wife. Kinda dangerous.
Maybe I’ll just try to stay off the buses...
Late,
Scar