Carnage in Rio Nexpa

        Rio Nexpa itself is nothing more than a fairly large river that runs through the mountains of Michoacán and empties into the Pacific Ocean. However the favorable orientation of the coastline, coupled with nearly perfect bathymetry, makes Rio Nexpa one of Mexico’s best left hand point breaks. The cobblestones deposited from the river line the ocean floor providing a consistent plane on which South Pacific swells peel in a seemingly endless fashion. One good wave will take you over half a kilometer at which point you hop out of the water and walk back to the point to do it all over again, somehow it never seems to get old.
        The town is quaint. Two small tiendas with cold beers and other secondary necessities, a few small hotels, and a few dozen extremely laid-back locals are about all you’ll find in this surfers paradise. We lucked out and found a place to camp under a vacant palm roofed structure for $4 USD/night. Shade is an invaluable commodity in Mexico at high noon making spots like this desirable. Like most surf spots in Mexico you have to be on it early to really score. Once the wind turns onshore in the afternoon the surface chop makes gliding down the face of the wave a bit more challenging and tooth chattering. Here’s a picture of the empty lineup on an overcast morning before anyone paddled out.

       The next day AJ was out there before anyone. About twenty minutes later he woke me up to tell me that he had some good material for the blog. Rio Nexpa is inarguably a left hand point, but AJ, tempted by the steep right-hander decided to try his luck. As he kicked out of the wave, flying like the elusive Italian Condor, his leash snapped back smashing the side of his board against his head. Needless to say we made an impromptu 3-hour drive to Zihautanejo to seek adequate medical attention.

       Before we left a crusty old expat from Texas came over to inspect the carnage. “Oh you’ll be fine, we got a doc here in town” he said, “ Look here I got cut last week on my leg and the doc in town sewed me right up.” We smiled while trying not to cringe at his would so obviously infected we couldn’t help but mention that maybe he should get some antibiotics. “Oh, I’ll be fine” he continued, “ This ain’t nothing.” Against his recommendation we went to Zihuatanejo to take care of it.

       At the emergency room we found fifty or so other people already waiting before us. We looked at each other thinking you’ve got to be kidding me. Luckily we found out that we had ended up at a hospital only for Mexican citizens possessing some sort of nationalized health care card; a foreign concept to a couple of US citizens. This isn’t a political blog, however, I will say socialized medicine seems all wavy gravy until it's you in an egalitarian herd of other sick people waiting to be tended to. On that note I guess some care is better than no care at all. That’s all the political insight you’ll get from me.
       We found a nice young doc at a private practice around the block who stitched AJ up in the musky, dimly lit room. I watched his feet curl as he poured a liberal serving of iodine over his ear while the nurse did her best to catch the excess in the trash can overflowing with byproducts of other previous procedures.
          I don’t want to sound condescending or superior as if the United States is a better country, but trust me you don’t want to end up in the hospital in Mexico. For the ripe price of $45 USD, AJ was back in business. Aside from the questionable cleanliness of the joint, the doc did one hell of a job. Now that we've both visited the doctor in Mexico within the course of two weeks I hope that the worst is behind us.