Barra de la Cruz

    (Sorry for the delay in posting, there is no high bandwidth internet where I have been for the past week)
        The wave forecast had been calling for a more significant swell in the coming days. Seeing the ferocity of Puerto Escondido when the waves were “small” I decided to make the three-hour trip south to Barra de la Cruz, where the large swell would line up along the famed point in a more manageable fashion. Puerto is great, but when there’s a long period swell in the water you’re better off heading for a point break unless you’re a complete kamikaze big wave nutcase, which I’m not.

Barra living up to the legend

            I hit the road early after stocking up at the local supermercado with enough rations to last me through the coming swell. Planning ahead becomes increasingly important the more south you go as the towns become smaller and more isolated.

 You’ll find Southern Mexico is littered with palm trees bursting with coconuts just about everywhere you go. Subsequently, you’ll also find enterprising young men and women selling these delicious bulbous natural creations at roadside stands. I’ve become completely addicted. The novelty of watching someone hack the top off the coconut with a machete with such surgical precision continually amazes me. As a child I was always fascinated with coconuts, perhaps because of their elusive nature and the challenge presented to obtain one as they hang up there out of reach. My grandparents lived in the Florida Keys for a period during my childhood and harvesting coconuts was always on the agenda during our visits. In all actuality the experience is rather anti-climactic. After you capture one and spend a massive amount of effort to break into the heavily armored shell you’ll find a meager serving of “milk” which is more like watered down non-fat milk. Nevertheless I still take every opportunity to grab a refreshing coco frio every time one of the roadside stands presents itself. Driving while sipping on a coconut is perhaps not the wisest decision, as even my big honking American cup holders are no match for natures version of a Super Gulp.

On you’re way to Barra de la Cruz you’ll pass through the Bahias de Huatulco, a serious of absconded small hillside bays scattered with high end resorts and a wealth of cheesy tourist shops. The place is beautiful, but if you’re traveling on shoestring budget its best to take a look and then get out before you’re convinced into buying an overpriced hammock or the like.

Just when you think you’re completely lost in the jungle along Mex 200 after being disoriented by the endlessly winding road you’ll see a tiny sign for Barra de la Cruz.  The townspeople seem to love the diverse array surfers from all over the world who come to surf the holy grail of Mexican point-breaks. I found Pepe’s Cabanas to be the optimal place to call home for the coming swell. His modest Cabanas are about 12’ x 12’ with palm-thatched roofs, a fan, and a bed or two depending on your needs. The bathrooms are the cleanest I’ve found at any surf camp so far and even have toilet seats, which, believe it or not, are a luxury in many parts of Mexico.

My home in Barra

Pepe is the man. When you get there he gives you the rundown and shows you where everything is that you’ll need. Additionally, every guest gets a page in “the  notebook” where it is your responsibility to keep track of what you ate from his restaurant and how many beers you’ve had so you can pay your tab at the end of your stay. How much better could it get? A utopian experiment in surf communism based on the honor system with a world-class point-break as the backdrop. Heaven. Well, almost, I forgot to mention that Pepe’s Cabanas is kinda-sorta situated right next to a swamp making for some of the worst mosquitoes I’ve seen so far in Mexico. I guess nothing is ever totally perfect, but for a surfer looking for rock bottom accommodations and an unreal point-break this place is paradise; just make sure you have plenty of bug repellant.

Plenty of waves for everyone!

Unreal point break perfection

For fear of loosing the interest of the non-surfing blog readers out there I will refrain from writing a whole page about how unbelievably perfect this wave is. For the surfers out there, just trust me, this place is the most epic right-hander I’ve ever surfed. It barrels right of the take-off and then softens out into a Trestles-like bowly peeling right where you can execute half a dozen cutbacks before it walls up and barrels again all the way to the beach at which point you get out and walk back to the point to do it all over again. Enough said.

October 12^th marked the 46^th or 47^th anniversary of Barra de la Cruz depending on whom you ask as it’s on ongoing dispute amongst the townspeople. To celebrate the town held a grandiose fiesta complete with a band, fireworks and all the tacos you could ever want. The band that played the fiesta was reminiscent of North American country music with songs about broken hearts, unfaithful lovers and broke down pick up trucks, only with more brass instruments, oversized sombreros and the ever-present accordion. The locals partied hard, and danced even harder. It was great to see nearly everyone up and dancing enjoying themselves completely uninhibited, aided by the unrefined Oaxacan version of Tequila, infamously known as Mescal.

Mescal, in short, is to Tequila what used paint-thinner is to Vodka. Apparently the wrong batch can make you blind.  During the fiesta one of the Aussies at our international table of obvious outsiders bought an unmarked bottle of the Mexican moonshine insisting that we all take a swig. It’s only sold in glass bottles, probably because it would melt plastic, and for safety reasons you shouldn’t drink it anywhere near open flames. The next morning the surf break was empty as the whole town recovered with pounding headaches and fuzzy memories of the previous night. I however managed to shake off the hangover and surf by myself for nearly an hour before anyone mustered up enough strength to get out there.