How do you spell perfect? How do you describe the perfection of every element and every emotion? It is a dream come true for a northern California surfer transported to this warm water lineup with six to eight foot reeling quintuple section point break waves that looked airbrushed they were so flawless. This point break two hours south of the Mexican Pipeline is a place that I have camped a few years ago on a different trip at a different time, both in terms of my experience and capability as a surfer. But now it has been transformed by the natural world; sand bars and currents and swell and wind all come together like a gift from Poseidon himself to create, without a doubt, the best waves I have ever surfed my entire life. Here's the lineup crew: the two Santa Cruz youngsters, two veteran Australian chargers, Billy, myself, and two Puerto Escondido locals who drove down just for the occasion. Whenever Puerto Escondido, otherwise known as the Mexican Pipeline, maxes out at fifteen to twenty foot faces, that's when it becomes the perfect time to travel south to the remote point breaks that turn into world class spots with the right amount of swell and nice offshore winds.




It is a moment I will never forget as long as I live: we reach the top of a grade on the rugged dirt road from the main highway that leads to the point break. We stop the rental car with our boards strapped to the top to get a quick vista of our destination below. We can see the empty lineup, just after dawn, with glassy waves peeling perfectly off the point for a distance that seemed longer than a football field. As soon as Billy stops the car it is a mad scramble. Who can get their fins in, sunblock on the face, wax on the board and sprint to the edge of the rocky point to enter the water first. I am the third of four to paddle out. Just as I am wading up to my chest preparing to jump on for the initial paddle out, I watch one of the Santa Cruz guys snag an epic wave and slash down the line. Then it is Billy's turn, he casually tries to glide into the wave on the most hollow spot and gets pitched over the falls for a little morning wake up call. Minutes later, after a brutal paddle against a wicked current, I watch BZ drop into beautiful right hand barrel.




For at least a half hour it is just the four of us from the Nissan rental car. BZ getting donuts on his first wave, and then filling his quota, the Santa Cruz boys just ripping the waves apart, but with everyone surfing in a respectful fashion in order to make sure not to get pummeled. Positioning is very difficult. No matter where you are, if you even sit on your board for two seconds, BYE BYE, suddenly you are two hundred yards to the south and quickly increasing that distance despite all efforts. The current is relentless and pulled everything that was not attached to the sea floor southward in its merciless grip. This is actually a good thing in the sense that it mixes up the surfers after rides and provides plenty of space for everyone to get theirs. Still, in order to remain in position to catch even a single wave, I paddle continuosly towards the rocky point.

ER Harris