Iʻm sitting in the van soaking wet as a thunderstorm rages around us. We are in southern Michoacan and this is the first real storm weʻve dealt with. Itʻs the kind of storm that has me questioning why I ever left the warm, dry confines of my home in Hawaii for this crazed adventure.
Our next spot was La Ticla, a two hour drive south from Pascuales. La Ticla is a small town with an amazing wave. A wide muddy river feeds into the ocean here, creating both lefts and rights over cobblestones and sand. On south swells the lefts work while the rights turn on during those winter north swells.
The party had apparently been going for an entire week but we were here to catch the finale. Inebriated cowboys guided their horses to stomp and keep time with music in a kind of equine ballet. Big brass bands played music as a parade winded though the streets… People in San Poncho can really party.
Waking up in a van in Mexico is pretty surreal. Waking up and realizing youʻre in Mexico and a hurricane is coming your way just plain sucks. The last hurricane to strike Baja (just a couple weeks before) did a number on Los Cabos. This time the storm was headed to northern Baja, aka right where we woke up. This was a day of driving: as far south as we could get.
Getting into Mexico is pretty easy it turns out. Just before crossing, we bought our Mexico car insurance ($175). Our blue van rumbled though the border at around noon and it took us all of 30 minutes to pay for our tourist visas ($20 per person) and car permit ($50 + $200 deposit). After a brief inspection where board bags were opened and perused, we were on our way.
Paul flew out to LA to meet the van three days ago, leaving me stuck behind for two weeks. This all sounded super depressing to me until I realized I live on Oahu and I work at a surf school. My life is essentially a permanent vacation (except for rent and exhorbitant food costs, but who's counting?).
When the van you're about to live in for the next few months is older than you, it's almost a given that it'll need some work.
People come up with crazy schemes all the time but 99% of those schemes never leave their heads. So when Paul asked me if I wanted to drive down to Central America to open a surf school, I was so startled I couldn't reply at first. People don't say those things seriously. He was.