Every morning here I expect to walk out and find our hotel situated on top of some evil witch with striped socks and ruby slippers. The wind every night is quite something to behold. Gusts constantly grab hold of the loose corrugated tin and slam back down in clangs that keep us awake. I’m on the lookout for a tin man and a cowardly lion as I’m sure one of these nights the wind will carry us away to Oz.
Today we had a great day at Playa Yanqui, as we were the only people there besides a man with a gun that protects you from the banditos. We had left early to take advantage of the high tide, and after 3 hours of frolicking in the small waves, my muscles could paddle no more. So I came out of the water to meet up with Denielle, whom had taken refuge from the sun under the branches of an acacia tree. As I put my surfboard on the ground and covered it with rocks to keep it from sailing away, a 2 cm thorn from the tree got intimate with the inside of my left foot. Along with the numerous angry red ants patrolling the tree, and thorny branches swaying in the wind, Denielle had managed to locate the most precarious place to perch upon on the entire beach.
After a brief peanut butter sandwich, I took a bottle of water and began a trek along the expansive beach that had now grown almost 60 meters due to the falling tide. Just before the far point the valley funnelled the already strong winds into an angry gust, carrying sand to blast away any remnants of dead skin on my body. I carefully made my way barefoot along the rocks rimming the Cliffside, a path made possible only at the lowest of tides. What drives us to constantly seek what lies beyond the proverbial next corner? I always seem to have a strong urge to keep going, with hopes that something wonderful or mysterious must lay ahead just past where the eye can see. Perhaps being born on a continent settled by those trying to get away, in search of something better, has been carried along through the generations so that we have that same strong desire to explore the new and undiscovered.
After making it beyond the slippery smooth wet rocks that try to guide you ever so gracefully into the water’s edge, I looked up to see a pair of tunnels carved through the rock. Continuing on, the clicking of hermit crabs as they stop, drop and roll in advance of my approaching footsteps is heard all along the rocks. I feel somewhat sorry for the ones that roll far, having spent most of the day crabbing around to get to that point, only to lose the battle to gravity to preserve themselves from the unknown threat. I climb up into the first tunnel as two bats quickly flutter away. The tunnels are each relatively small, only about 15 feet long or so, but look as though they were carved just for me so I could find my way across to a desolate stretch of beach. I gingerly make my way through both, taking care of my soft feet on the sharp rocks, and set foot onto my own private beach, complete with a lagoon in back healthily stocked with numerous egrets, herons and shorebirds. I want to stay here longer to take it all in, but know that the rising tide will make me a prisoner here, so I make my way back to Denielle.
We have one more full day here in San Juan, and then it’s off to the island to climb the ominous volcanoes. However, if this wind keeps up we may not be able to make an ascent all the way to the peak. I am eager to visit the island, but the multitude of waves that I have been catching, all to myself, leaves me yearning to stay close to the beach. I have adopted a new form of surfing that preserves the paddling muscles, appropriate only in small waves in shallow water. I simply walk my surfboard into position, jump on at the last possible second and provide a few quick paddles and pop up to ride my tiny little waves. It’s a lot of fun, and the technique allows me to catch dozens of waves an hour without becoming exhausted. I feel that my stand up technique has been greatly honed with all of these waves, and now feel better prepared if and when the swell increases in size. Roving water outages keep me out of the shower at the moment, but hopefully the agua is restored soon so I can get the salt out of my eyes.
Tyler.
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