Wave Quest
No Crowds, Just Breaks
Written and Photographed by Daniel Caponetto
Surfer and Reckless Creative Daniel Caponetto shares his latest surf adventure from Baja California, Mexico. Daniel recounts stories of secluded beaches, mushroom trips, and meeting a surf legend.
Baja California, Mexico
This particular trip started with the urge to hunt tasty point breaks with reasonably minimal crowds. My urge brought me to check the swells along the Pacific Coast and I knew there was only one place I had to be: Baja California, Mexico.
I called up a buddy of mine, Ben-- an avid surfer and sailor-- who I've known since I was five years old. We have spent many drunken nights together in Mexico and nursed those hangovers with surf sessions on delectable waves. For this trip, I had to take a day off of work and Ben had to come back to the States early to meet his school obligation. “No problem,” we agreed, and proceeded to plan our course.
There are a few main destinations between Rosarito and Ensenada that are plenty fun and highly accessible. Given their accessibility, they do tend to draw larger crowds. Growing up a Southern Californian surfer (and surfing throughout California) crowds are a common occurrence. Although they are annoying, it’s not a deal breaker when finding a spot to surf. However, if the option to surf empty waves of high caliber can be chosen, that is the decision taken most.
Since this was our ultimate goal, we decided to jam just a bit further south than Ensenada, along roads only accessible by off-road vehicles. Ben entranced me with tales of a spot he had been before: it had waves with long, illustrious rights peeling from the top of long point, with no one around except for the near 50 people inhabiting the fishing village that sits above these empty waves. "I'm in," I say. "Let's leave tomorrow night."
All day at work, I could only think of the waves we were about to score the next morning. I jetted home as fast as I could and packed quickly. After meeting up with Benny Boy and getting the rig filled up, we made a couple stops for beer and food and then we were off to the border. It only took us a couple hours to get there from Long Beach, California and then another hour to get to our dirt road turn off. I loved the landmarks we were looking for -- a small town restaurant/tienda near a speed bump and it's the next dirt road after. From there, it was another hour ride along this spine tingler of a bumpy road to our destination.
Driving in the dark was wild to say the least. The moon was about a quarter crescent full and looking like a yellowy happy face as we bumped banjo tunes along this trek of a road (I had also taken one or a few doses of psilocybin so the moon and the road were vibing).
As we arrived at the barren cliff, all I could hear were the waves marching along the point and all I could smell was the mist from the ocean air of this beautiful strip of Baja. After moments of marveling at our fortune, we pitched our camp. I was still very much awake as Ben went off to sleep, so I wandered to find the way to the ocean's edge and get a feel for where I was. As I started to wane, I found my way back and got into my tent for some crucial hours of sleep before the coming day's events.
Jostled awake the next morning, I found Ben psyching on some fun, though smaller than we expected, waves waiting for us. We surfed for an hour and a half and decided to get some breakfast in us while we plot our move: do we stay where we are or go hunt bigger and perhaps even more fun waves?
We jetted out of the water and scrambled some eggs back at the campsite. We discussed the swell direction, how the water loops, where it could have potential for better exposure, tides, wind, all of the esoteric jargon that comes with prowling for the best surf spot. Ben and I decide to head back north for a better exposed point with potential to have more exciting waves.
As the day was nearing mid-morning, we hurried to break our camp and headed north. Once again on the spine rattling road to the highway, we encountered our buddies, Scott and Marty, coming to meet us. Luckily, they had already scoped the spots we were heading towards and wanted to take us there. Now with Scott and Marty guiding us, we became a caravan of adventure-seekers heading north on the coast of Baja California, Mexico.
Racing against the falling sun, we barreled on to a more well-known point called Salsipuedes. With only about an hour plus of daylight left, we jammed down to water and found ourselves sharing an a-frame point break as the sun set behind the horizon. The waves were really fun; I hurdled myself into a couple drainers only making one chandelier exit, accompanied by a couple lengthy walls I was able to lay my rail into. As I made my way back to our camp, I was beaming ear to ear and could only anticipate what the next day had in store for us. “Finally, we found what we were looking for,” I thought.
Since Ben had originally planned to leave early for school, Scott, Marty, and I had to talk him into staying an extra night. Needless to say, we succeeded and proceeded to set up camp and cooked dinner. Realizing that I had brought more mushrooms than I actually needed, along with the fact that it was the last night I'd spend in Mexico and did not want to cross the border back with them, I offered what I had with the crew; so, tripped, we did. Our sensational day was capped off with a journey staring at stars, jibbing back and forth with each other, walking around, and laughing endlessly. I am, personally, massive on the effects psilocybin has on the psyche and it is always a very positive experience. I enjoy the way I am able to perceive my existence from an outside perspective and literally appreciate the setting and my current state for the beauty for which it is. This was one of those trips that was bonding for myself and my companions.
Dawn came and went. I remember waking up late, around 9:30am-10:00am. Getting up from my tent, I could smell the aroma of breakfast and coffee. The sun was bright and the air was pure. Some of the boys were already up analyzing the swell. With a bowl of grub, I took my own account of the waves. I saw fun out there, yet there were other spots the boys were ruminating on and foresaw them as being more enjoyable. So, off to the next spot we went.
Heading back north towards Ensenada was the well-known spot called San Miguel. On the way up there, we stopped and saw some waves that seemed to be filled with a contingent of more than enough of like-minded surfers. We decided against going there, despite the effort of myself and Marty, and instead chose to grab a bite to eat from an epic taqueria nearby. Pulling up, we passed the likes of Al Knost, a well known surfer, working on his van. I had a quick chat with him and asked where he surfed and told him about my past few days surfing. We exchanged stories and I enjoyed hearing about the ones he'd gotten in San Miguel and he was stoked to hear we had found some fun ones out at Salsipuedes.
Our day was not done and since the swell was dying, we continued north to Baja Malibu. Upon arriving, we glanced for a few minutes and saw some gems among the stretch of empty sandbars. Geared up and ready to go, we jammed out there and found a pretty tricky lineup. The swell was still coursing and had brought with it a sweeping current. I managed to stroke a stretched out barrel, an air section and a couple fast walls I strung a few turns together on.
With a couple hours of a session under our belts, we headed back to the cars with the feeling of success. Getting ready to leave, Scott, Marty, Ben and I anticipated a brutally long wait at the border. As the sun set, we got ourselves some of those delicious border churros. Ben landed himself an epic Dodgers quilt blanket for cheap. This one Mexican blanket, with a color scheme I'd never seen before, literally passed us, no kidding, like 4 times, so I stopped the guy who was selling it and asked how much.
"For the puppy?" He replied, holding a puppy that he most definitely was aimed at selling
"How about $10 for the blanket?" I recounted.
Fast he rebuked, "Nah, $30!"
Ignoring him, I handed out $20, which he wasn’t mad about taking.
Another hour or two passed before we got to the precipice. A couple questions about what we were doing, a couple answers regarding our scoring of waves satisfied the border agent and thus safely, back in America, we were homewards bound.
Successful mission to say the least. Cannot wait for my next.
I feel so very fortunate to be so close to such a wave-rich region that is relatively still underground. I am grateful to have friends with the means and the knowledge to tap into the treasure trove that lies just to our south. This trip itself meant a lot to me because it was with my close friends and we were able to have a fantastic time finding waves, cooking, and camping together. I gained a crucial experience about the value of camaraderie in regards to hunting waves and great times. That’s what it is: the hunt for easing the mind’s activity by absolutely scoring and sharing that experience with the closest of kin.
