Tacos and tequila are the main attractions, but Mexico’s surf is what keeps people coming back for more. You know what you want, and you know what you want. You might find something that makes you check the weather every morning, whether you’re packing your shortboard or holding on to a foamie like your ex on New Year’s Eve. Visit http://www.latamsurfing.com/mexico for further information if you want to learn more.
No other place makes swells like the Pacific shore. People tell stories of rusted VW vehicles; between Sayulita and Puerto Escondido, someone usually says they caught the best wave of their lives yesterday. People talk about Zicatela, also known as “The Mexican Pipeline,” where the sandbar barrels look like they’re going to swallow you whole. Leashes that don’t work, boardshorts that are torn, but enormous smiles when the waves calm down.
If you want to relax, go north. Sayulita is the surfing town where everyone has attempted stand-up paddleboarding at least once. Pastel buildings, dogs sleeping in the street, and hair drying in the sun. A wave for longboards rolls up to greet you, mellow and forgiving. People in the area talk about coconut water and broken skateboards. On flat days, you’ll have to try taco stands every fifty meters.
The Oaxacan coast gets hotter down south. Puerto Escondido, where the only thing higher than the waves is the anxiety before the session. Some people here have made watching wipeouts their full-time job. There’s nothing like seeing someone fall into a huge, churning monster of sand and then come back out with their hair full of shells and a sheepish smile. There is a strange sense of friendship here. You are both a spectator and a gladiator. Every stroke seems tremendous, even if you simply paddle out for the reform.
When you surf in Mexico, it’s not only about the waves. It’s also about the accidents, the roadside coconut stalls, and the random board-swapping with strangers. When a goofy-foot barrels down a clean left and the cheers are the same for everyone, the language barrier goes away. You recall more faces than names. As the sun goes down, you exchange beers and stories, with salt still on your skin.
There are moments when things are out of control. You misplaced the keys to your rental car in the sand, wax is melting into strange shapes on your dashboard, and a rogue iguana is sniffing your flip-flop. But that’s what makes it exciting. You never know what will happen in each session. There is a pulse in the air even on tiny days.
Mexico’s shore feels like a postcard from long ago for people who want to go away from the cold, boring winters in the north or the crowds in other places. Take your board, pursue the horizon, and bring home a piece of sunburned memory. The waves come and go, but the stories? They stay stuck to you like sand in your wetsuit long after you leave.