SYRV.org is an non-profit dedicated to making good happen. Over the last few years the SYRV crew has been working hard to create a community center to benefit the people of the Northern Nicaraguan town of Jiquilillo.
This time around I teamed up with the group to donate musical instruments, jam out with the kids, help release recently hatched sea turtles, put the finishing touches on the community center, teach some new friends to surf, do a little yoga, and share some good vibes.
At some point in any love, religion, or great pursuit your faith is tested. It’s not as easy as it once seemed, promises aren’t kept, passion fades over time revealing annoying habits and bad morning breath. My paradise is still defined as a small house off the grid, barefoot walking distance to a thumping beach break, with four dogs that eagerly wait for the echoing sound of surfboard wax application and leap with excitement to chase each other down the path and through the shorebreak.
Time does bring comfort. My Spanish is better now, my backside tube riding more confident. Last year’s tomato garden yielded tiny sprouts that never reached maturity while this year’s boasts at least ten healthy plants, and while I don’t want to jinx myself, there looks to be a delicious crop of organic tomatoes on the way. I even have a planter box of spinach that has so far resisted the hot weather, constant rain, and swarming bugs.
But this year more than last, the challenges have been many. Starting in mid April the rainy season began will all the energy saved up during last year’s oppressive drought. People, animals, and trees prayed for rain. The heavens answered by opening for weeks on end, flooding roads, soaking through roofs, and washing away recently planted crops. We lost five papaya trees that were just starting to bear fruit, and before we fixed it there were so many leaks in our roof there was no way to position the bed in the small house so that it stayed dry. The rivers rushed sand, wood, and other unidentifiable detritus to the sea, and the brown water and strange green foam made surfing at some spots a health risk. Too much sand built up enormous sandbars damaging the quality of waves at my favorite beachbreak, hopefully just temporarily.
Weather and waves aside, nearby personalities became daily stressors. My boyfriend got sick with a fever that lasted ten days, so I stepped up and took over the 45 min (each way) drive to town to suck our daily limit out of the ATM to pay for cement, blocks, bricks, workers, and palm fronds (that are laid out all over our lot but won’t dry because the rain doesn’t stop). Our heavy delivery truck made the already muddy puddle-filled road nearly impassible, so I’ve gotta pull money out for the repair of that too. The internet access I relied upon at the hotel next door suddenly skyrocketed in price, but only for me.
When the 4runner we call “the beast” started making a loud clicking sound when turning in 4 wheel drive, we took it to our mechanic who replaced the CV joint. Three months ago I had had the whole front suspension re-done which cost me $1,000 in parts. It’d broken down 2 hours away so I had to use a different mechanic from the one I trust. He seemed like a good guy, came highly recommended from several other gringos, and gave me a Nicaraguan nickname. But when our regular mechanic looked at the list of parts that we had paid to have replaced, he told me none were new. He thought the other guy had just had us buy new parts, but only fixed the rubber and cleaned up our old parts, essentially totally screwing us. I called the guy. He said he was honest and it was just that the salt air and mud by the beach make the parts age quickly. Probably true, but not true enough.
On top of the town runs and car dramas there are the dishes, the laundry, and the house cleaning all handled by hand, by me, local style. It’s probably a good thing the waves haven’t been epic because I haven’t had time. We have solar panels so the lights are on past dark, which is easier than this time last year, but the well still needs to be pumped for water for all that washing, and showering, and toilet flushing. At least with all this rain, drawing water takes less energy since it’s closer to the surface. I’m looking for the bright sides.
Then one of the dogs got sick. I didn’t even know dogs could get fevers until I noticed that her head and belly were clearly hotter than those of the others and some research online revealed that anything over 106 in dogs is a sign of something very serious. The vets at the local town gave us penicillin and parasite killing pills. Two days later, after no improvement, we carried her to the car and made the three hour drive to Managua to a real vet who gave her a couple of shots and set us at ease. While my sick boyfriend and sick dog comforted eachother in the backseat, I drove three hours home in the dark, in the rain, struggling to see unmarked turns and people and horses in the road, completely exhausted from all of the above.
My boyfriend went back to California yesterday. Back to work to earn more money to pay for this house we’re building, the road we’ve been assigned to fix, the car parts we didn’t receive, and all of the daily dramas that arise that can only be solved with money. I’m still here for another month at least to finish nursing our dog back to health, oversee the final steps in the construction of the first floor of the house (they pour concrete for the ceiling of the first floor / floor of the second today), and making sure the super muddy road becomes passable by a small car in 2-wheel drive. It’s not easy, but I’ll admit that I sort of love it. I grew up amongst so much drama that I love the challenge. On top of everything else, seven friends arrive today, so I’ll be adding surf tour guide to my list of “things to do” for the next ten days.
Wish me luck, and send me positive energy. I’ll need it!
June 20, 2010 Drop Zone to me means Alex Gray antics, Cheyne Magnussen’s smiling supercharged surf sessions, and endless amounts of waterborne adventure. This time I’ve got a wing-girl in Maria Del Mar, a Puerto Rican reggaeton dancing damsel that’s always up for a good time. The four of us showed up in Fiji, piled our boardbags high on a small rental car and lashed them down with surf leashes since no one thought to bring any board straps. We made a few circles ‘round a roundabout to fully admire a Hindu temple then found our way to a dirt road that led us to Seashell Cove – home base for the first few days of surf and diving adventures.
photo: Justin Lewis
I’ve heard from too many people that Cloudbreak is one of the best waves in the world. Despite several trips to Fiji I’d never surfed it and was in denial. Yesterday Maria and I sat in a boat over the incredibly clear water fringing Tavarua Island freaking out – dancing, shaking, and yelling – while the rest of the group took their sweet time. Finally, all loaded up, we powered out to the outer reef and scrambled over each other to dive in and paddle out to butter smooth head high peeling blue lefts that barreled over hollow reef. Four hours later, the four of us had had more waves than we ever could have hoped for and I can now agree that Cloudbreak is one of the best waves in the world.
Surfed out and satisfied. Photo: Justin Lewis
June 21, 2010
The only thing I really want to see underwater is a shark. I like colorful coral, schools of fish, turtles and all that but honestly I’m down there for the sharks. After the incredible shark-swarming dive experiences of Drop Zone Tahiti it’s a little hard to get excited about a couple of three foot white tip reef sharks. Last October I did a trip to Mexico that included swimming with whale sharks in the Bahia De Los Angeles and then one of the peak moments of my life; getting up close and personal with great whites off Guadalupe Island (See video from this trip here). When I was told that we would get a chance to dive with tiger and bull sharks on this trip I got really excited, and then a little disappointed that we’d have to wait until the second half of the trip to do it.
photo: Justin Lewis
Diving off Seashell Cove with Scuba Bula the last couple of days was fun. We swam through a few underwater arches and explored some reef crevices, but I’ll admit I was a little bored. These dives just seem like warm-ups and time-killers until we get to meet the big toothy critters.
Now cruising aboard the Tui Tai to a dive site called Rainbow Reef that has been dubbed “the soft coral capital of the world”, I’m content. It might have something to do with finally getting a real cup of coffee after days of instant imitations. It’s too windy to surf so we’re preparing for a day of three dives followed by a village visit. All that sounds good but once again it’s hard to take my mind off those sharks we’ll get to meet in a few days.
Body Glove donated mask and snorkel sets to a local village, so I had to help the kids learn how to pose for photos while wearing them. photo: Justin Lewis
June 22, 2010
Bede Durbidge is one of my favorite surfers. Good looking, great surfer, super nice guy. So when we were paired up to dive together for his second dive after certification I was excited for both of us. We were supposed to dive the Great White Wall named for its special collection of white soft coral but there was so much to see at the start of the wall that we never made it past the first swim through. Filming the Drop Zone means that while you’re diving you’re working. Sometimes that’s walking back and forth on the beach with your board but yesterday it meant swimming back and forth through a cave that started at 40ft deep and let you out at 60. Each loop for the camera revealed some new detail within the cave culminating in a pantomimed conversation with a cute little yellow fish that was not afraid of us at all. Fiercely dedicated to defending its territory the palm-sized golden yellow little guy even charged at Bede as if it was planning to bite his regulator.
Bede Durbidge likes diving. Photo: Justin Lewis
Post-dive we cheered for Cheyne as he was hoisted midway up the mast by the crew. He then carefully scurried out along the slippery metal spreader to jump. The guy is fearless so I knew it was intense when he seemed a little sketched. He had to wait up there for at least ten minutes for the cameramen to get their equipment together, the anticipation building. Cheyne jumped and the spectators went crazy, so Alex got inspired to get up there and jump off too.
photo: Justin Lewis
PADI superstar and one of my personal role models Kristin Valette pulled out a couple stand-up paddleboards and we took off over the flat water into the sunset. After red wine and lobster by candlelight on the beach, I fell into bed exhausted, gently rocked to sleep by a calmly rolling sea. Good day, good night.
photo: Justin Lewis
June 22, 2010 I like sea critters, particularly large toothy sea creatures that let you swim with them. Manta Rays don’t have teeth but still easily fall into the large sea creature category. Yesterday afternoon we loaded into boats and set off towards the reef hoping to find a few mantas to swim with. The choppy seas made us less than sure we’d get our chance, but Cheyne, Alex, and Bede back-rolled overboard armed with weight belts, spear guns, and a hunger for sashimi. Maria and I stayed dry with our eyes peeled to the water around us looking for shadows below. Surprisingly, Bede and Alex came up cheering and pointing. “There’s heaps of mantas right here!”
all manta photos by Justin Lewis
We motored over but by the time Maria and I jumped in with the boys, the mantas were gone. Back in the boat, shivering in the wind under a cloudy sky, I was ready to head back to the Tui Tai for a hot shower. Kristin Valette the optimist suggested one more pass along the reef and just then our dive guide spotted a manta not too far away. I jumped in eagerly with Justin our still photographer and Scott the video guy. Soon a big black shape emerged from the darkness below me and I was surprised by the size of it. I’ve seen a manta before in the Maldives, but this guy was much bigger, easily 6ft wide from wingtip to tip and our guide called it a small one. He was cruising just above the sea floor about 40 feet below me, and after all the kicking to keep up, I was winded. Justin was at my shoulder, camera ready, pointing down and motioning me to dive down alongside but I just nodded and waited. Up ahead the reef grew a little closer to the surface and as the ray swam up over it, I swam down for a quick moment of synchronized swimming. The ray looked over at me for a moment and then swam off. We found it again and I got one more chance, this time lasting a little longer. It was just enough for Justin to snap a few frames of the Manta and I side by side, swimming together. I spread my arms out to the side in my best effort to imitate its graceful wing-flapping swim. Finally I pulled myself back onto the boat incredibly grateful that we’d taken the chance on one more pass. It was definitely worthwhile.
June 23, 2010 I like to get barreled. In fact lately, improving my tube-riding skills has been my main focus in surfing. There’s nothing better than positioning yourself inside of a wave and then coming out unscathed. I don’t even mind crash tubes where you get a short view before the inevitable pounding. But that’s over sand. Pulling into big tubes over shallow sharp reef is an entirely different thing. It’s scary.
I had surfed Frigate’s Pass before and it was thick and sketchy. I was a little nervous about surfing it again, especially since Bede had checked the swell models and said it would be pumping. Motoring out to the break the wind made whitecaps on the surface of the sea and I figured it would be blown out and no good. Once we turned the final corner around one of several small islands, we could see that the wind was actually offshore. The reef was still far off but we could see a succession of waves peel along and spit powerfully, indicating big hollow waves. I was instantly really nervous.
We scrambled over each other to pull out boards, put in fins, and apply sunscreen as the boat rocked in the rolling sea, then hopped from the big boat to a dingy to jet out to the surf. The boys were frothing and screaming but Maria and I were nervous. We took our time getting out there. I was still psyching myself up when Maria spun and went on a mid-size wave. The boys on the inside were hooting and she pulled out with a smile. “It’s not that bad,” I thought to myself. I stroked into the next one and tried to stall for a tube that didn’t materialize then nearly spun out on my bottom turn. I flipped my board over and saw I was riding a twin-fin. Oops! In my haste to get out there I must not have screwed my middle fin in all the way and it had fallen out. I switched boards and caught another wave that didn’t tube, but helped my confidence a bit. Maria and I nervously paddled around looking for smaller “cute” ones while dodging the gnarly sets that the boys tackled fearlessly. They were laughing and high fiving. It was awesome to watch and I started getting frustrated with myself. I wanted to laugh and high-five after pulling out of a big bomb. “Screw it, I’m going!” A set approached and Alex and Bede each took one, but there was one more coming and only Maria and I still in the lineup. “You going, Maria?” “No, you go!” I turned and started paddling. It was big, but it had a nice tapering shoulder and I was determined. I paddled and paddled and right before I started to think about standing up, there was so much water moving up the face of the wave, the only way to get into it would have been to throw myself over the ledge. I hesitated for an instant, saw Cheyne spinning around on the inside, and pulled back to let him have it. The wave barreled down the reef and he ended up getting pounded. I felt really happy about my decision not to go and then even more timid.
photo Justin Lewis
Maria and I were sitting a bit further in from the boys and Scott Smith our water filmer suggested we try to take off on some of the inside ones. Just then we saw a set approaching, one of the biggest of the afternoon. “Shoot!” I started paddling frantically straight towards the horizon while Maria took an angled path more towards the channel. I yelled at her to go straight ahead as we both duck-dove the first wave. The next one was bigger and already starting to break so that it was clear we wouldn’t have time to get under it. I was only about ten feet further out than Maria but that made all the difference. We both bailed our boards and swam for the bottom, but I popped up outside and she got dragged in. There were three more waves behind that one, all breaking a little further out. Each time I dove for the bottom and looked up to see churning whitewater above me. On the second one I felt my leash pop and break. Without my board dragging behind me I was able to dive deeper and get under the wave cleanly. After I’d made it through, I looked back and couldn’t see Maria anywhere. I was shaken up, without my board, and getting pulled up the reef and out to sea by the strong current, but I was ok. The dingy came and picked me up.
On our way to the other side of the reef to look for my board I saw Maria climbing into the other dingy where the photographers were sitting and I was relieved to see that she seemed ok. The boat guy took me inside of the reef and we waited a few minutes for my board to wash in. We spotted it, collected it, and then started heading back to the big boat. On our way I noticed a big brownish white object floating on the inside. It looked like a big tree at first, then the back of a whale. Finally I realized that it was a boat upside down. “That’s weird,” I thought. It turned out our boat had flipped taking out two photographers, two cameras, and poor Maria who had just climbed into it thinking she was safe! See below for a few aftermath moments…
June 24, 2010 Bull sharks are amazing. I’m on my third beer – a new type called Vonu which is much better than the standard Fiji Bitter – and it’s still hard to process the feeling of kneeling on the ocean floor 86ft below the surface while staring down an approaching bull shark. I added quite a few shark varieties to my list the other day which now includes whale, great white, white tip, black tip, grey, lemon, nurse, and bull. We had hoped to also encounter the illusive tiger, but at least I have a reason to return. Even without the tiger shark I was not disappointed.
shark photos by Justin Lewis
Bull sharks have that classic shark look. Close your eyes and imagine a fat scary shark and that’s a bull shark. I had several swim right at me, our eyes locked, that came within a couple of feet to my face before turning to make another circle. I wasn’t scared. I did feel a few moments of adrenaline as my body reacted to the sight of a big predator headed straight at me, but it was fleeting. The enjoyment was too great. The only problem was that the dive was too short. Twenty five minutes of bliss then a big Fijian was giving me an aggressive thumbs up sign (probably because I had already ignored the last five “head to the surface” signs he’d given). I just didn’t want to leave.
We had two dives, the second at 60ft. In between dives I told the master that I am obsessed with sharks and had done multiple shark dives. I was hoping it would lead him to pull me closer to the sharks. Once the feeding started I was chosen first to kneel next to the feeder. The sharks made circles, took the tuna head on offer then swam right past me as he chewed and swallowed. It was awesome watching such a powerful creature that is so linked to man-eating and fear swim right past me, peacefully.
The sharks got closest to Cheyne. Either they liked the red hair or they could sense his fear and needed to look him over closer to see why he was afraid. After a few incredibly close passes, much closer than to anyone else, he gave the camera the “I’m over it sign” and cruised back to a safe distance. I could go on and on about how much fun it was and how much I wish we got another chance. I could have stayed down there with the sharks all day…. but my beer is getting warm.
for more stories and photos from Drop Zone Fiji, check out the Drop Zone Fiji blog! Special thanks to Air Pacific, Body Glove, PADI, Scuba Bula, Tui Tai, Beqa Resort, Seashell Cove, Tavarua, and the beautiful people, waves, and sea creatures of Fiji!
A film by Scott Smith about sharks and our obsession with them. On a trip to Mexico, Holly Beck got to swim with whale sharks and dive with great whites. http://www.bodyglove.com/
It’s been almost a month since I left and I’m desperate to get back. I’ve savored hot, high-pressured showers, the feel of carpet under my feet, a well-worn cushy bed, lightening fast internet, quality face to face time with sisters, and good hop-infused beer. I spent almost two weeks in Fiji surfing over shallow reef, scuba diving through coral-crusted caves, getting face to face with sharks, and drinking kava. It’s been fun. But i’m ready to get back home.
I miss this little dog more than I can express in words. Saying goodbye to her, I couldn’t hold back the tears. I came back to California and told my sisters all about her. I thought about her while breathing compressed air in Fiji. I dream about her. I can’t wait to pick her up and give her a big squeeze.
After a really frightening surf session from a boat in big thick waves over shallow reef, I’m really looking forward to late takeoffs over sand where there’s a lot less consequence involved in not making the drop.
I’m excited to spend some quality time with my boyfriend Ryan.
I can’t wait to take these four dogs down to the beach and run in the shorebreak with them. I miss that little Ardilla the most, but I couldn’t tell you which of the others I miss least. I’m more than ready to re-take my place in the pack.
Sunday afternoons can go back to being all about volleyball with friends and cold beers a long healthy bike ride away.
And at the end of the day, watching the sunset from the porch with my best friend in the world and no worries except what the surf will be like in the morning. I can’t wait to get back home!
I love surfboards! Ever since I was 13 years old and desperate for a surfboard of my own, I’ve loved them. Now that I’m 29 and have had quite a few to call my own over the years my obsession with surfboards hasn’t diminished. I’m an dedicated collector with an impressive stash. I even keep a lot of boards that i’ve broken in two pieces. I get attached them to them!
Luckily, since I was 17, Rusty Surfboards has been hooking me up with boards. I’ve tried a few from other shapers along the way, but Rusty boards always have the high quality that I rely on. Rusty, the man himself, is also one of the most intelligent and innovative shapers out there. He listens to feedback and incorporates it into new models. He experiments with materials and fin placements. He keeps it interesting.
It had been a while since i’d gotten a new quiver, so recently I ordered up 5 new boards. Now that i’m no longer competing or worrying about forcing turns on waist high mushburgers for the judges, all I want to do is get barreled. I’ve also been really loving the quads lately, particularly my 5’4 Dwart. So my most recent order was filled with tube riders, quads, and a brand new Dwart.
Of course, white surfboards are no good for photos, so the first step was to bust out the spray paint and get to work! My boyfriend has built a shaping room in our garage and equipped it with board rack, lights, masking tape of various widths, rolls of paper, and a selection of spray paint colors.
The first step is to put in the headphones, pick a favorite album (in my case it was Pacific Dust by The Mother Hips) then start by taping off the Rusty logo and around the rails (so that paint stays on top and you don’t get over-spray onto the bottom.
I like to keep my sprays asymmetrical, so the next step is to use some paper to block off half of the board. I also like to keep some white, so I use thin tape to cover a few lines of white. I sprayed 4 boards before taking this photo and I recycle the tape, so that’s why the tape is so beautifully colored.
There’s a lot of thought that has to go into the layer on layer paint and tape routine. It can be tricky to visualize how it will come out depending on which color goes on first.
Pulling the tape is the most exciting part!
For the other half of the board I made a star stencil.
And finally….. ta-da! They’re done!!!! From Left to Right: 1. 5’4″ Dwart quad 2. 5’11” GTR quad 3. 5’11” Kompressor quad 4. 6’1″ Traveler thruster 5. 5’6″ Slayer thruster
I’m heading off to Fiji tonight and bringing all but the Dwart, so I had to take out a couple and test them out before carefully stacking them in the boardbag. Here are are a few snaps by local photographer Alex Shea of me riding the GTR at my local beach.
This is one of my first waves on the GTR and I was just trying to feel the slide of the quad. It felt great!
I was a little worried about pulling into this little double up tube. I didn’t want to buckle a brand new board!
Feeling good! I can’t wait to get this thing into some big tubes in Fiji!
I hate crowds, which is one reason I love my little paradise in Nicaragua. But, in order to spend as much time as possible enjoying my uncrowded slice of heaven, I need to figure out a way to make some money down there. The easiest way to do that is via surf tourism, but that means bringing more people to paradise, which they of course fall in love with, go home to tell friends how awesome it is, which brings more people, and all of a sudden that uncrowded paradise has become something quite the opposite. I suppose it is somewhat inevitable. Secret spots only stay that way for so long. The whole business of surfing is full of these types of conundrums. Surf brands want to keep their core image but sell it to the mainstream. It’s a tricky thing and some amount of compromise in personal philosophy is often necessary.
I had been planning to open a women’s surf and yoga retreat in Nicaragua for a while. In November of 2009 I took the first steps to make it happen and started actively seeking a location. Unfortunately all the places I looked at were lacking something; size, quality, or affordability. I then heard a rumor that some guy (we’ll call him Surf Camp Guy) was coming to Nicaragua to open not one but three new surf camps in 2010. My boyfriend – the soul surfer, never stayed at a surf camp, totally against organized surfing of any kind – was incredibly worried. Surf Camp Guy already owns camps in Baja, Mainland Mexico, and El Salvador, all places my boyfriend has been and loved. We couldn’t believe he was now preparing to take what we see as his packaged exploitation to our Nicaraguan paradise too.
By chance, Surf Camp Guy’s grandson is a kid at my local beach that I’ve watched learn to surf over the years from when he was just 13 years old. He’s now 19 and doing airs and getting tubed. Grandson’s Dad (Surf Camp Guy’s son) is an acquaintance who I’ve met at the beach while he was taking photos of Grandson. The two of them put me in touch with Surf Camp Guy and my goal was nothing more than to figure out what he was up to and where he planned to put his camps so that I could report back to my boyfriend Ryan and our other friends in Nicaragua. When I called him he told me all sorts of things among them that he was planning to focus on women and yoga. “But that’s what I’m doing,” I thought!
I realized that I had three options. 1. Be really angry and worried about Surf Camp Guy’s new camp and spend a lot of time hoping he is not successful (the option my boyfriend and some of our friends in Nicaragua have chosen). 2. Set up a camp down the street and directly compete with him. 3. Figure out a way to work together to minimize the impact on the surfing population.
By this time I had a friend (Cathy Young from the Wahine Kai surf club) wanting to come down the first week of April with a group of girls. She wanted to stay with me but I didn’t have a place to host them yet. Surf Camp Guy’s camp would solve that problem. I also reasoned that if he was going to set up a camp regardless, the more weeks I could fill it with ladies, the fewer weeks it would be filled with dudes.
I drove down to meet Surf Camp Guy at his house in San Diego to work out the details. He seemed very nice and energetic. He talked about hiring from the local community, paying them well, and making sure all the guests were totally stoked. I left the meeting feeling good about the potential partnership and even gave him a hug. We agreed that I would bring my guests to his camp for one week in April to test it out and if things went well, I would use his camp for my retreats for the rest of the year.
The first sign of problems came when he suggested running an ad with me on Surfline. He thought I would be stoked, but I wasn’t. I wanted the retreats to be advertised through grassroots, word of mouth style methods not only to avoid exploitation of the area but also because I only want to do a few retreat weeks this year since I’m still busy traveling as a pro surfer. Aside from that, I thought that using my image linked to his website would have the side effect of attracting attention to his other camps as well, which of course I wasn’t into. We had our first disagreement.
The first week of April arrived along with 10 guests. The house was barely ready, but the girls had paid a cheaper introductory rate and all had great attitudes, so things went well. There were a few issues, but they were minor, and we had an amazing time!
I thought it went so well that as long as we could improve upon a few little things, I would end up partnering with Surf Camp Guy into the future. A few weeks after the retreat I heard that Surf Camp Guy’s son and another friend from my hometown, were going to be coming in as partners. I was even more encouraged that my partnership would be successful. I figured that since friends from home were getting involved it would further water down the issues I had with Surf Camp Guy. They came down to Nicaragua via a road trip from El Salvador. I realized I might be wrong when I saw a facebook post by Surf Camp Guy’s son saying something like, “just arrived in Nicaragua, can’t wait to take a bunch of photos to sell the hell out of it.” Those weren’t the exact words, but it was something really close to that. I got a little worried. We met for cocktails to discuss some of the issues and Surf Camp Guy’s son was telling me about El Salvador.
“There are so many sick waves,” he said, “we passed a bunch of secret spots. You would love it! You really need to go check it out. I got a bunch of photos and we’re going to take guests there.” Hang on a second! That’s the whole problem! First you tell me about all these killer secret spots, then you think I’m going to be stoked on you exploiting them and taking a bunch of guests there? I guess I was wrong to think the son would be different than the father.
In order to partner with Surf Camp Guy, his son had quit his corporate job. He updated his facebook status with something like, “goodbye corporate world, I’m going surfing”. To me it seemed like he was just bringing the corporate world to surfing. I tried to explain to them my issues with Surf Camp Guy and his exploitation of a place that I love. I told them that I’m not against surf camps. There are plenty of people that travel somewhere, fall in love with the place, and need to figure out a way to make a living so they open a surf camp. I have no issues with that. I told them that I thought there was a right way to do it to allow it to grow slowly, to provide a service for surf tourists without totally whoring the place out. They seemed to agree. I figured that by me working with them that I could help steer them in the right direction and keep things as mellow as possible.
Finally, I came home from nearly three months in Nicaragua and went to a meeting with Surf Camp Guy’s son and his friend in their brand new office walking distance to my Redondo Beach apartment. I was excited to meet with them, discuss a few things, and plan out how we would run our retreats over the next year. In order to make the retreats financially worthwhile to both the company and I, while making them high class, all-inclusive experiences, we had to raise the price quite a bit. We didn’t come to an agreement on price until the very end of May and by then most of the ladies in my target market had already made their summer plans, so one month out, I had only received a deposit from one lady for our planned retreat week in mid July. The main purpose of the meeting was to discuss how to handle that. Before we even got to that topic, Surf Camp Guy’s son updated me on some of the things they were doing. He showed me the new website that will be launching soon. As promised it showed a focus towards eco-tours, learn to surf, go with a pro, etc. which eased my mind a little bit. It wasn’t just pure surf exploitation. He said they had just added a surf camp in Puerto Rico – at least the exploitation would be spread out. I started thinking maybe they weren’t that bad and everything would be fine.
Then he tells me he had a meeting at a huge surf brand, trying to talk them into bringing their team down to do tow-in training. **insert scratching record sound** “What?! Where?!”
He said they’d do it very close to a wave that for two years was my favorite in the world – and then the surf camps came. It’s more crowded now than it was a few years ago, but it’s still not so overdone that it would be fine to add a bunch of pros on jet-skis.
I instantly got a sick feeling in my stomach. It’s the same feeling I got when they told me about all the secret spots they were going to exploit in El Salvador. I stood up and walked out of the meeting. They don’t get it. They look at cool mellow surf spots and all they see is dollar signs. They tried to tell me that they are collecting a bunch of baseball equipment to bring down to the local kids. That’s great, but that doesn’t make the rest of it ok. They tell me that there are already a bunch of camps down there so it doesn’t matter. Once again I disagree. Almost every other camp in that area is owned by someone who fell in love with the place, lives down there, helps the community around them because they love that community, not just so they can claim good deeds on their website to attract more guests.
We all make choices with our purchases. We have the opportunity to take our philosophies to the level of action when we choose which companies and products to support with our hard earned money, whether it’s shopping at a farmer’s market, boycotting BP, or choosing which surf camp to visit. I still haven’t found the perfect place to setup my retreats, but I am committed to partnering with someone whose philosophy I agree with, who loves the place, gives back to the community, and I can feel good about supporting. I have a few meetings scheduled with those sorts of people when I get back to Nicaragua in July and am looking forward to moving past this and getting some new retreats set up for the fall.
So far we have two small houses on our lot. We built the first one for our caretakers then liked it so much we claimed it for ourselves and built them another one. Both are little studio-sized houses. Now we are finally starting to build The BIG House – a proper 2 story, 3 bedroom house with big outdoor patio/bbq area, balcony, etc. Check it out!
Holly Beck 