As large scale construction threatens the classic wave that is Punta Conejo, Moona and her friends go in search of new spots to foil & surf.

As large-scale construction threatens the classic wave that is Punta Conejo, Moona and her friends go in search of new spots to foil & surf. Far off the beaten track, they’re in for quite the adventure.

The storm was rolling in and grey clouds blanketed the sky. Some fellow surf camp crew were waiting out the rain under the hatch of their Suburban. Noses and tails of surfboards poked out from the back seat hoping to be waxed up soon. Beyond them was a lush headland emerging magically from the desert-like beach. Dozens of large birds - that I’m going to call eagles for dramatic effect - floated and dove in the lift from the hill. I captured a quick video on my phone. I probably wouldn’t see these conditions again, I thought. The onshore wind that was giving them such a beautiful free ride was keeping us from riding the surf we traveled all the way to Mexico for, and surely it was a one-time thing…

Unfortunately for us, weather systems in the eastern pacific continued to bring favourable winds for eagles. But with a little guidance from our weather tracking apps, we only had to take a drive to find some pockets of offshore, groomed right-handers. It was usually a two-hour drive - one way - and no time to return home for lunch or breaks from the sweltering heat, but no problem for a couple of wave-crazy surfers. (The crazier of the two being my friend, Adriana, who must surf all hours of the day, and then me, an unfortunate victim of fomo… which, ok, resulted in equal craziness.) I also brought along a third amiga, Christa, who fit right into our all-day wave-chasing schedule and captured the most beautiful photos of it all. The three of us, along with a surf guide and an occasional unsuspecting San Diegan added to our car (unprepared for our 5:30am departures), drove for hours each day along narrow, winding mountain roads. If it weren’t for the speeding taxis, giant trucks hauling literal tons of rock held by skinny chains, a lack of shoulder lanes, and the occasional tow truck rescuing a fallen car, I’d say it was a nice drive.

My plan for the trip had been to foil the most well-known wave in the area called Punta Conejo. I would take photos there, and then write about how the wave is in danger of being lost via development. The giant trucks hauling rocks? They were hauling them to the beach adjacent Conejo to become part of a massive port. It will be the “new Panama Canal”, allowing easy access to the skinniest part of Mexico and linking the Gulf and the Pacific. Probably a great economic decision for the fishing town, but a questionable one for the most consistent wave in the area. Well, it turned out the eagle-favouring wind was giving me a taste of what a surf trip would be without this wave- one that involved much more driving and exploring.

So I went and took my foil out to a spot two hours away from Conejo. Let’s call it the little mermaid spot because, let’s be real, those rocks look like they’re straight out of Disneyland. And while foiling in general can make anything breaking feel like Disneyland, this wave had the backdrop to boot. Oh and more birds - pelicans this time - and no wind for them to catch lift off of. As Christa and I waded into the water, admiring the rocks and the pelicans, I noticed a little white water breaking off a rock on the inside. White water that, while carrying a surfboard, you would just punch through on your way to the real stuff. With a foil in hand, my perspective was turned on its head and the baby white waters started looking very appealing. The tide was already lower than I wanted and dropping, but there was a small pool that I reckoned was deep enough for my foil. Christa agreed to play in the kiddie pool with me while I tried this novelty wave.

I realized the pool was quite tiny once I got up on the board. As soon as I caught a wave I had to start pumping in as tight a circle as possible to stay in deep enough water. I’d get on another lump, and repeat. When I didn’t initiate the circle fast enough, I would run into shallow patches of sand. I face-planted many times. But it made for a unique challenge that kept me entertained (and Christa, too, every time I exploded onto the water), while the shortboarders out the back waited for subpar surfing waves. When my legs couldn’t handle pumping laps any longer, we went out to the “real wave” and caught a few in some open water before the tide dropped too much and I started face-planting again. Those darn shallow patches kept coming out of nowhere like a kid sticking their foot out to trip me. Later that afternoon I had a migraine- a symptom of a past concussion that occasionally revisits. I thought of kite photographer Ydwer Van Der Heide who became paralysed from foiling in shallow water and highly reconsidered my decisions. It would be high tide foiling only after this.

That plan hardly needed to come into effect as we were blessed with bigger swells for the rest of the trip that were great for shortboarding. Occasional aggressive crowds prompted me to break out the foil again, as did onshore puffs. As we chased light patches in between strong funnelling winds and rain, sometimes scoring and sometimes not, we kept on trying, driving, and dawn patrolling like the dedicated (crazy *ahem*) surfers we are. On one of the not scoring days, we stumbled upon some big rolling sand dunes. We looked out on the landscape and wondered why any human wouldn’t want to preserve these places. Surprisingly I never surfed Conejo once this trip, and something just felt missing, like an empty hole that was never filled. At this point, we can only hope that the people of the fishing town benefit from its development and that the wave somehow survives the massive changes about to take place. Otherwise, I may be left foiling in circles in a kiddie pool. Or, who knows, maybe it’ll fatten out the wave and create the best foil spot we’ve ever seen.

Epilogue:

One lightning storm, many beautiful views, some of the best tacos on earth, gallons of sweat, one 7-hour driving day, a really bad sunburn, a stomach bug, one lost foil screw, and five days of Covid later, I wrapped up my trip and headed home. Yes, I said I, not we. Adriana extended her ticket and is currently still driving, sweating, and waking up at 5:30 am in Mexico as I write this. Told you she was the crazy one.

By Tonic Mag

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