Surf's Where You Find It

Sometimes it's at the bottom of a Michelada (Beer + Lime Juice + Salt + Worcestershire Sauce), as it was the last couple days -- as we endured a rare flat spell in San Pancho, Mex -- and sometimes it's actually out there, just requiring a little more "gasolina" and conviction to uncover.

I've been out of town, which (along with a rental house that doesn't have internet) has really slowed my blogging down. We really thought that were were going to get skunked (again, for some) in Nayarit, but found a rivermouth that magnified the miniature swell and organized the waves into sweet, shoulder-high lines. When OS and I rounded a bend on a muddy, rocky road this morning we looked across an amazing, rock and palm-lined river and saw firing lefts and rights, staggered like laced fingers. We literally screamed at the tops of our lungs and rubbed our eyes like we were waking from a dream.

Needless to say, it was mirage-like, much like a cold beverage to thirsty men crawling across a ridiculously humid, crab-infested desert, filled with mosquitos that seem to bite no matter what third-world pharmacy spray they apply no matter what time of day it is. It was good. It was wet. And it was ever so refreshing.

More posts when I actually remember to bring a camera, but until then, cheers!