Gone surfing (no, really)

I can now with a clear conscience leave Nicaragua: I’ve finally surfed.

Surfing, like volcanoes, is synonymous with Nicaragua among the well traveled. That I’ve been living near one of its most famous beaches these past few weeks and not yet touched a surfboard might be what some people (= surfers) call blasphemous.

The last time I surfed was in Sayulita, Mexico for my 35th birthday. I remember loving the thrill of paddling fast enough to “catch a wave” and lo and behold popping up to ride it in an upright position. This last part happened for me very rarely - ok, twice - despite having my own personal, world-class surfing coach with me there in the water giving me exact directions. I hardly call what I did surfing but I had a great time anyway.

Still, giving it another shot seemed like the right thing to do or at least simulating the experience of having tried. So when Natalie and her friend Sorab decided to go surfing today I decided I would tag along. They are experienced, hard core surfers and Sorab knew of a pointbreak in the nearby fishing village of Astillero he thought she might like. I myself was primarily happy for the chance to see another part of the Tola coastline and the possibly of fresh fish for lunch.

The biggest catch was the ½ hour walk from the beach to the pointbreak and Sorab was right to warn me I would have to carry my board. This, in fact, might be my biggest accomplishment of the day. The thing about surfing is the more inexperienced you are, the bigger the board. Basically, the surfboard transmogrifies into a raft. Which makes good decent sense. Still, when we went to retrieve the surfboards from the back of Sorab’s truck I innocently (conveniently?) forgot this fact and asked Natalie if the smallest one was mine. “No,” she said. Right.

The walk was really not so long and the board really not so heavy but I did straggle behind Natalie and Sorab most of the way feeling like I was in a comedy show of my own making, and kind of laughing out loud to myself about it as the sun beat down upon us. When we arrived, they went off surfing and caught about 500 waves and I mostly boogey boarded in knee deep whitewash off to the side, trying to avoid stingrays. Then I did some yoga on the beach. By the time, Natalie and Sorab came back about an hour later we were all sun-fried, salty and ready for a big lunch.



Natalie and Tona

Lunch was the biggest, freshest, deepest fried, garlic covered red snapper I have ever had. And two Tona’s, the Nicaraguan beer.

I love the ocean.

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P.S. Here are some pictures of my great day, complete with red snapper.