Back to Baja

I should probably go somewhere else. I should probably drop the cash and head to New Zealand or Iceland or Jeffrey's. I should probably e-mail my ass off and try to get a crew together in hopes of making an article that some publication might -- but probably will not -- want to buy. I should probably get a steady paycheck. I should probably do a lot of other things. But ya know what? I'm not going to. Not right now at least. Instead...

...I'm going to Baja.

The month of May is fast approaching and it is then that I will head south. Lupe needs a tune up, a clutch adjustment and a new windshield, but she's already amping to go. She loves the Baja and pretty much any long stretch of dirt road. One of my best friends and surfing comrades will be joining me on the trip. Stoked on that. And last but most certainly not least, my beautiful girlfriend and her/our great and lovely friend will be joining us boys for 8 days of fun in the sun at the end of the road. I am very excited about that last part. Megsa has heard about and seen photos of my numerous Baja trips, but never had the opportunity to go on one herself. It will be awesome to have her company in and out of the water.

I'm stoked to say the least.

Oh sure, there's the multiple homicides, hangings, car-jackings, faux police stops in the wee hours of the morning, to hell with 'em. Once you get past that 100-mile corridor of danger, stench and paranoia, you're free. Free as the wind blowing through your hair at dawn on some washboard road leading to an unnamed point break. And that's what I love about Baja.

Freedom.

However, in all reality the Baja experience is practically the same as surfing anywhere in the states. The major differences being that A) you're not in the states so you better have the common sense to acknowledge that fact, B) most of the roads leading to my favorite spots down south aren't paved (yet), C) depending on the length of your adventure, you can almost always be guaranteed at least one session in trunks and D) post surf sessions are around an open air fire next to tents, shovels, propane stoves, sandy toes and a cooler full of Pacificos (Ballena's of course).

Sure there are more differences than the four listed above and there are plenty of similarities too. It just feels different down there. It's wide open and rugged, deserted and lonely, bare and beautiful. It's just awesome and although maybe I should be going to New Zealand or Iceland or J-Bay, I can guarantee that I won't regret a minute spent in Baja. Never have, never will.

Hasta pronto mi amor.