I could almost hear my joints squeaking out in the water, like a rusty old door hinge that had not seen oil for too long. That’s what I’ve become in the last two weeks with no surfing; a rusty hinge bobbing out in the waves. Two weeks ago I had left Cambutal feeling like surfing was as natural as walking down the street. I felt as though the surfboard was just an extension of my own body, but now after only two weeks without it, it felt obscure and alien to me. Not only that but I had picked up a head cold in the last two days from all the stress of the border crossings and long drives, so the paddle out had already left me exhausted. This was supposed to be my last session out in the water, one last memory of surfing to stay with me, to remind me of our wonderful trip, one last great ride to top off this whole experience. Now I wasn’t even sure if I would catch a wave.
We had finally found Popoyo after getting a little bit lost the day before. Several stops to ask friendly roadside Nicaraguans how to get to where we were going had us pulling up to the beach in the late afternoon. There was plenty of time to unpack and take a quick stroll around the beach to find the waves. We walked south a long ways and found where Popoyo proper was, but it was crowded with people, being a Sunday night. So we returned to the hotel, and I prepared my board, and then walked to the northern point of the beach. The typical offshore winds that we had dreaded a few months ago were nowhere to be found, and replaced with some onshore winds that were making the waves an ugly choppy mess. I was weak with the cold and a little foggy-headed with the cold medication, but this was my second last day of surfing. So I got in the water and paddled out and proceeded to have the Pacific Ocean dumped upon my head with closeout wave after closeout wave. This sucks. What a way to end the trip, I thought. The currents were strong and the waves were very unpredictable. I began to wonder if I would be able to get back in. But along came a wave, about head high, nothing too scary, so I went for it. I popped up to my feet and made the steep drop, only to have the wave break on either side of me. No ride to be had, but I at least felt some vindication for making a late steep drop. I then caught some white water in and called it a day to enjoy the sunset.
That brings us to this morning. After sleeping for a very long time to try and rest up and get rid of my cold, Denielle and I had a late breakfast and packed up the car to drive down to Popoyo. I had her take the camera to get some pictures of my last ride, kind of a special moment, an end to a big part of the trip for me. We parked the car by a restaurant and made the walk along the beach and across the river to break. There were a handful of people out in the water, and a lot of big rock shelves exposed at low tide. The swell was still head high, with some occasional overhead sets pounding in, but the waves were breaking predictably in the same spot, over a submerged rock reef. I paddled out, and while I had initially felt rested from sleeping in, I soon felt exhausted perched upon my board at the edge of the line up. I sat there and watched for quite a while, letting my body recover while I learned where the wave was breaking and what it was doing. A small offshore breeze had the wave breaking relatively late, and you had to catch it fairly far on the inside, but then the wall would hold up for a long ways, giving a very satisfying ride from the looks of things. I paddled for a couple of waves that came further to the outside, but just missed them. I would have to mix it up from the inside with the others. You could see boils in the water with each passing wave as the rocks underneath made their presence known. Not a place to be foggy-headed. Finally I caught a break when all the others were too far inside, so I turned around and got up on a wave. It almost felt like I was controlling my body through strings like a puppet, not quite in control, nothing feeling very natural, but I managed to make the drop and was up riding the wave. This was great. I made a few turns, this way and that while the wave slowly decreased in size as it approached the shore. I turned too far in front and lost all my momentum and fell as the approaching white water was not enough to get me going again.
I paddled back out and soon caught another, this time the puppet strings a little shorter, feeling more natural, I was back in control. This wave was slightly bigger, and I rode it for a long ways, even getting in a roundhouse cutback turn towards the white water and continuing along. I paddled back out again and made the decision to go for one more, one last wave. That’s a lot of pressure to put on one wave. What if the wave is small or doesn’t go anywhere, what if I fall on it too soon? But alas, here it came, after waiting for a long time as the others caught waves in front of me, I was able to paddle inside and get up on this wave. I could see the wall holding up way down the line and knew if I could stay up that this would be a long ride. I turned gracefully back and forth, going with the wave, coming back to the white water to let the wave build again, and rode it all the way towards shore. I got off, and stepped on the rocks just a couple of feet beneath, then paddled further over and exited onto the sand. A very nice three long rides to end what has been a great trip full of wonderful surfing has left me happy, though exhausted with my cold. And now, while I type, we watch perhaps our last Pacific Sunset of the trip, for now we are to head inland and make a speedy return home. So hopefully the border crossings go well and we find ourselves back in home territory before you know it.
Tyler.
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