“Nine dollar sandals...”

Today is our last morning in evil country. I set my alarm for 5:30 in the morning to get a few hours out in the water before packing up and leaving. When my alarm went off I briefly considered resetting it for a later time, but the howler monkeys were in full force and I knew that I would not be able to get back to sleep. The first lights in the sky appeared while having my morning banana shake. I quickly put on my rash guard, grabbed my surfboard that I had waxed the night before, and crept out of the house. Locking the door, I then shoved the keys back into the house through the window. The moment they hit the ground I realized that I had forgotten to put on my new nine dollar sandals, purchased just for this very reason. No one is going to steal nine dollar grocery store sandals from the beach, but especially not if you forget them in the house.

So I carefully stepped my way to the beach, with the occasional sharp pangs of pain from a rock to the heel, and skilfully avoiding flashes of glass shards here and there from a wild night out in the streets. A few people were already stirring amongst the streets, now almost a quarter to six in the morning. I arrived at the beach to find no one in the water, and the sun still a ways from peaking over the lush green hills behind me. I quickly stretched, warmed up my old creaky shoulders, and made my way out into the desolate ocean. It’s a unique feeling to have the whole ocean to yourself, shared only with the pelicans gliding along the crests of waves, but also eerie at the same time. Who knows what lurks out there in waiting for the unfortunate lonely fool paddling amongst the breakers.

With the tiny sliver of moon directly overhead and the clouds showing the first signs of warm pink light on their underbellies, I paddle into my first wave. The calm glassy surface allows me to easily catch it, and soon I am up and riding this little wave with no one to bear witness on the beach. It’s always fun and reassuring to catch your first attempted wave of the session. I knew that this morning would go well. It was a full hour before the next surfer appeared in the water, so I had my pick of all the waves coming in. The swell had died down considerably from the past two days, but the smooth surface of the water and emptiness of the line up more than made up for the diminutive waves that were still coming in with occasional chest to head high sets.

Our time here was relaxing and very enjoyable. The other night we scurried over to a local bar after staying too long on the beach to catch the super bowl. Every white person in town appeared to congregate at this one spot, and we soon found ourselves occupying the last available seat in the back courtyard, after moving a makeshift couch. Other late arrivals were forced to turn over empty plastic beer cases to sit in front of the big screen tv on the gravel. A very exciting game ensued, and it seemed like the majority of the fans were cheering for New Orleans. We sat next to a man from New York who said a lot of people were rooting for them due to the whole hurricane situation. So everyone was in a very festive mood when the saints came out on top. After a few too many beverages and many consecutive days of surfing, we decided to take a day off from the beach the next morning and lazed around the house reading.

The next phase of our adventure promises to degrade to a more feral state. After two weeks of living in a nice house, we will now be camping on a desolate beach with only the supplies that we have brought along to keep us going. I’m looking forward to it as a nice change of pace, and an opportunity to leave the crowds behind for a while. Not too long after we should be receiving Nicole and Skya for a while, which should be a nice change of pace.

Tyler.