After a quiet night in Puerto we decided it was time to head down the coast. We had heard of a nice Pueblo whilst in Chacahua from some fellow travelers called Mazunte about an hour or so south and as the swell had dwindled for a while we decided to head there.
Mazunte, we were told was a hub of yogis in a beautiful bay surrounded by lush mountains. It sounded pretty good and after I had had so much surfing it would be nice for Jane to fuel her passion for a while.
We caught a small cramped local bus to the small crossroad of San Antonio and after a cheap cab transfer we finally rocked up to a double bay with small cove beaches between rocky outcrops. We actually ended up in the neighbouring town of San Antonillo but it was only a short walk up to Mazunte should we want to head there. In the end we didn't need to. Jane found a yoga practice just up the road and did a couple classes up there where I joined her on the second day but we didn't end up hanging around too long. Prices were high and after the second day we decided to move along.
Next stop was Barra de la Cruz. This beach was made famous when a 2006 surfing world tour championship event stopped here and broadcast this idyllic spot to the rest of the world. As such it had experienced a boom in tourism since the event but it was still much smaller than we had expected. We found a cheap grubby room behind a little shop but had to walk about 15 minutes down a dirt track to the actual beach - a tough task in the heat of the day. The beach however was beautiful with a sandy righthand pointbreak wave breaking along granite cliffs. The waves were pretty busy as a result of all the hype generated by the competition six years ago but the people were mostly friendly. There was a nice little restaurant on the beach that served simple tasty food and drinks and provided some shade so that days could be spent lounging between surfs.
After a second day though and many great waves we decided to head off as we had a lot of ground still to cover.
As we were preparing to leave a Mexican couple offered to drive us to our next destination called la Bamba. Bamba was approximately one and a half hours away, half way between Barra and Salina Cruz which is the end of the favorable stretch of surfing coastline. Rumours were that it was a great uncrowned wave far enough away from the developing surf camp area of Salina Cruz and that there were a few cabanas where you could stay the night. After a cosy journey with four of us squeezed into the front of an old pickup truck we eventually pulled out onto a windswept sandy stretch of coast with a couple breakwaters providing protected waters for the absent local fishermen to launch their boats. With the wind, conditions were far from perfect but still, at the end of each breakwater waves rose and unfurled in perfect form blasted by the sideshore wind. So long as the wind would die down at some point, I would get some quality waves. We found a lonely set of cabanas along the gravel road with clean rooms and a friendly owner called Leo. Leo was Mexican with a French wife and two children. He had set up the camp a couple years ago and was doing a good job of providing a cheap alternative to the numerous overpriced surf camps further south. Although the shops were shut he was able to cook us up a tasty meal of chicken and pasta which we enjoyed along with his stories of how beautiful this place was in the wet season. All along the coast so far we had noticed that the hills were covered in what appeared to be dead trees. We though initially that perhaps a fire had been through or perhaps a storm had ripped all the leaves off. As it turns out this is the usual state of the bush at the end of the dry season. Six months without rain had turned the landscape into an unwelcoming terrain. But apparently, in just one month time, the rains would come, the lakes would fill, the vegetation would blossom and the hills would turn bright green again. It sounded magical and we would have loved to hang around for it but as it was, we had many more kilometers to cover and we had no doubt that green hills awaited us further south.
The next morning, I woke at dark and made my way back to the beach. The wind had died overnight and as I rounded the last corner glassy perfect waves greeted me without a soul in sight. This is the essence of every surfers dream although in fairness a buddy wouldn't go a miss. Facing challenging waves that you have never before surfed alone is a little daunting.
I managed to snag an hour of great waves to myself though growing more confident after each ride until eventually the first flashy surf camp 4x4 turned up. By then the first breaths of wind announcing the presence of a storm in the Gulf of Tehuantepec were starting to show and after a couple more waves I left it to the newcomers.
Leo had mentioned the previous night that he needed to go to Salina Cruz the following day for supplies so when he offered us a ride we gladly accepted. We loaded up his camp VW campervan and by 10.30am we were in the road again.
Salina Cruz was a working town with ships lining up off the coast to load or unload their cargoes. It was basic t not as bad as I had allowed myself to believe from rumours. The attendant at the bus station told us we would have to wait until midnight until we could board the bus to our next destination so it seemed we had some time to kill.
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