San Poncho was fun, quirky, and vaguely hipster but unfortunately the waves were nonexistent. We had heard rumblings of a swell coming in ten days. One week later and, defying the laws of physics, the swell was apparently still ten days away. Rather than wait, the five of us decided to drive six hours south to a spot famous for picking up any swell. This spot, when itʻs on, is a huge, heaving, death barrel similar to Puerto Escondido. Itʻs a big beachbreak that closes out more often than not, but guys still charge it.
It was blown out our first morning there, so we drove about 30 minutes north to another spot: another hollow beachbreak. It was glassy when we pulled up and a bit overhead on the sets but really fast. We paddled out and had fun pulling into closeouts and racing through sections all morning. We had lunch right there in front of the break at one of the many palapa restaurants on the beach and were the only ones around. The town and the beach were totally deserted. It was definitely off season.
On our last morning, the spot woke up. A solid swell had filled in overnight and double overhead heaving barrels were there to greet us. Guys were paddling out on 7 to 8 ft guns and breaking them on their first waves. We spent that morning watching and pointing, grimacing and cheering. Aida, Tori, and Poncho headed back up north a little later that day and we were on our own again.