We set off fro Sayulita in hopes to find.... well, I don't really know anymore, I guess just to find what's next. We stopped in Pascuales our first night. The place was a ghost town, and we found edgar who owned a sweet hotel, and camping zone in front of Boneyards. The name of the place is evading me. We had a really hot and iffy night sleep, and Nolan was looking like he was cracking. I was scared it might be our last night camping. We made it through, and awoke to 20 ft. heavy barrels outside of our tent. As we made our coffee there were brave souls starting to paddle out and three jet skis gathered, towing guys in. It was nothing Nolan, or I had seen in person. A very serious surf session. It was really humbling and we decided to keep looking for a friendlier wave. Edgar said that there where a ton on the way south, but if we wanted real paradise, to go to Maruata.
The whole section of that coast is desolate. No more Pollo Asada, Cocos Frio or large gas stations. We started to feel like we were now "in" Mexico. I think the adventure, along with the fear, set in. We rolled into Maruata looking for a place to set up. No one was there. Just policia and army trucks, a large empty looking hospital. There were no real buildings, exept for the hospital. Just palapas lining the beach. The surrounding cliffs and jungle are hudled around the white sand beach and crazy blow holes that shoot water up hundreds of feet. You can see it every few minutes past the surrounding hills. I see some token white guys and ask them where to camp. They say to camp there and hospitably pass me two beers. Perfect!
After ten minutes of setting up and talking to these three guys and a 7 month pregnant woman who is smoking like a chimney. They tell us that Colima and Michoacan are waring states, and because of the drug cartels, the whole coast is filled with drug wars. Don't go to Acupolco or you will have severed heads on pole outside of your hotel in the morning. One of them said our set up was just asking to be held up. Nolan and I are having full blown panic attacks. I realize that our trip just took a shard turn, and I am thinking that at any moment guys will be coming out of the jungle with AK47's and taking everything.
I go surfing and leave poor Nolan defenseless with these guys. The wave there is this crazy wedge and a lot of movement in the water, but i catch two scary, fun waves, and instantly feel better about life. I come back in, and Nolan tells me that these guys are Navy seal veterans, the oldest was a commander. They were wasted out of there mind, and just really no one you want to be around while you are already feeling that venerable in a strange country.
Nolan and I are thinking we should get our money back, break down the tent and find another place, but the town is so small that it would be across the street and fully obvious what we were doing. It was too late to leave and drive anywhere else so we turned our attention to the kids there and pretended like it was taking us hours to set up camp. One of the guys kept coming over offering us beer and pot, and waving us over to join there debauchery. We kept politely passing. (I do not want ANYTHING from you, stop asking.)
We watched the commander and the other seal try and go for a swim with a huge shore break. The commander washes up on shore with his shorts around his ankles. He is so wasted, and probably immobile enough as it is sober, that he cannot move. He is just getting pounded wave after wave. Really heavy shore break. Nolan gets up to go save him when his buddy, laughing hysterically pulls him up, and drags him to there table.
Not but 5 minutes later, old man is out there again! Nolan and I are jaw dropped as he, once again, is drowning. Pants, once again, down. He is violentle washing up and down the beach. Two young mexican kids are trying to help him and he is waving the on, cause his stupid pride is crushed. The buddy waits a few minutes before grabbing him again. Now the old mans shorts are down and he is too wasted to pull them up. So no one does. He spends the rest of the evening like that. The whole attitude of the veteran, prideful Americans, living down here to reap the material benefits of Mexico made me so sick to my stomach. I was so ashamed of my Country at this point. Nolan and I had a strong feeling like we narrowly escaped a head trip that could have destroyed our trip, but we packed up the next morning and kept driving.
It was a shame we didn't explore Maruata more cause it looks like a very magical place, just not for us right now.
Now we are in Nexpa! Sweet sweet Nexpa. The Sand bar that was built up from the last storm is being washed away and all the sticks and mess that were once trapped are being washed back out to sea. the waves here are a bit messy today, as where yesterday they were perfect, and there were only two people out on an insanely long wave. I was very intimidated and missed my window.
Last night we walked to a bonfire on the beach and the friendly crew that have been here a while offered us drinks. After 2 minutes of talking I find that one of them is Todd Hazeltine, an ol filmer from Mammoth that was probably one of the first to film Curtis. Back in the day. He was explaining to us that
he had a rough blow during those days and it was part of the reason he stopped the snowboarding life. First Jeffy died, then he was in a fight and was punched in the eye, losing sight, and shortly after he lost his Mother to lung cancer. When life hits, it hits hard. It is very humbling.
we are now going to go explore.
