We finally made it back to La Fonda. No recent news of beheadings or rapes, and Steve gave us the go ahead. Finally.
This is Chicama, Peru. Why am I posting this picture here? Well, on a good day, La Fonda reminds me of Chicama. It’s cold and dry, the water is polluted, but there isn’t much else to do besides surf. Disregard the fact that Chicama is one of the longest left point breaks in the world, and La Fonda (K58) is a disorganized beach break. We’ve surfed both, and I’ll take good La Fonda any day. It’s really fun.
We managed to fit all the boards and camping gear in my Outback, and after a brief stop at Albertsons, we were cruising down the 805 towards Mexico. As we drove past the “last U.S. exit” sign everyone began screaming in unison, as reality set in.
Lakshan forgot to pack his wetsuit, so I can’t say for sure that he enjoyed himself out there. The water was in the low 60’s, I’d guess. The rest of us had a great time, and we scored solid shoulder-head high waves without the pounding close-outs that this break has dealt us in the past. Only a few other people out, so we basically had the place to ourselves.
It wasn’t nearly as crowded as years past; this was Memorial Day weekend, after all. I suppose the threat of having your head chopped off is still enough to keep people away. Which is weird, because I never would have guessed that the typical surfer/party-goer riff raff that normally camps here would worry about that sort of thing. We set our camp directly in front of Palapa de Jose’s, but after a few hours of listening to their awful music blasting from 20 feet away, we decided to pick up and move to the other side of the campground. Literally. It was the most peaceful night of sleep I’ve ever experienced at this desert wasteland.
