We drove from Lake Atitlan in Guatemala to El Salvador laying over briefly in a small cowboy town right smack in the middle of nowhere to assure we hit our border crossing nice and early Sunday morning. We cruised through the border in less than an hour and were immediately rewarded by miles of waves on the coastal highway!
More by chance than by plan we drove right into El Tunco and wouldn’t you know it, surfer heaven. Four different breaks and the awesome, inexpensive surf town atmosphere had us hooked immediately having not seen the ocean since Sayulita way back at the beginning of Mexico!
The rooms were very inexpensive at the Tunco Lodge and having slept in the van for over four months (that’s four, count ’em FOUR months!) we decided to spring for one and enjoy the pool, shower, and numerous areas for chilling in the gated sanctuary only 100 feet from the beach! We stayed there for nearly a week enjoying the accommodations, beach, and of course, the roaming turtles.
Recently we compared our perspectives on surfing and jumping off stuff and each wrote a little bit that we thought we’d share with you all.
Numero perspectiva uno: Niccole!
As I swam through the oily black waves, hearing the theme of jaws in my head, yes, knowing I was going to be eaten, I knew I had to learn to surf. Surfing as defined by Niccole: what cute little boys do that have sun streaked hair, a six pack, and swimsuits that show the half moon, and is something that is apparently illusive to me. Eric reminded me that the warm water was nice, which it is until one wonders if that is because of large animals peeing in it, hah hah. Swimming as small fish frantically jump out of the oily depths in front of me (not a good sign?), and swimming, and still swimming to the wave a mile out (ok I exaggerate) that then hurls surfers straight to the rocks which create the cotton-pickin’ beak to begin with! Okay, so then I go for it, I swim hard and catch a wave, yes – but am unable to stand up. Then I catch another! WOW! Still no standing and the rides are very short before I am under a swirling, nasal-cleansing, vortex of water. And there my surf career careens to a halt. I swim out each day to catch waves and/or just exercise in preparation for amazing food, and possibly a beer or two. But as the days progress I spend them losing hair ties, having amazingly clear nasal passages, and very dirty bikini bottoms while communing with the waves. So the score remains at least 100 or more tries with Niccole up twice, so probably 98% or more down.
Then we decided to go to the waterfalls. When I use the term “we” I use the royal we. I heard (from Eric) about the cascades but was singularly uninterested as it was or would be a day of jumping off of “stuff.” Then Eric asked me if I wanted to go as a group was getting ready to leave. Content to stay at the hostel and sew I told him to go ahead, but puppy dog/your my friend eyes later, I decided to join in. Truly the total adventure was fun! We got on a chicken bus (a bus that was once a US school bus, but now has a new motor and is painted way cooler) with a bunch of other tourists – some US some French. No one actually knew where to get off but 50 cents later and under the watchful eye of the “guides” who magically appeared and snatched us up, we were walking down a cow trail. Yep, then we got there: it was hot, humid and jumping off of stuff is totally the only activity one does at the cascadas. Eric was in heaven. I had already spent the entire trip down trying to psych myself into jumping. But jump one – heart in between my legs – I couldn’t quite do it but did jump from a 3 meter height with only a slight wale. Then Eric was gone jumping off from and into everything including a disgusting pond :D. I stood trying to jump and not pass out all at the same time. Trying to forget my brain or use logic. People walked by on occasion with a “just do it.” As we were packing up, having had a false running start, I turned and took the plunge. My shrill scream of deathly fear was only silenced by the icy water sealing my lips. And Eric hadn’t even seen it! “But I heard you” he told me. Once we got to the bus after a steep hike back, I was able to talk about it. “Wasn’t it fun?” Eric asked me. I answered, “Nope, jumping was terrifying.” However the experience, and better yet the retelling of it, is outrageously fun!
Numero perspectiva dos: Eric!
It was good times and riding the buses was cool to us as well having never experienced them from the inside before. It’s a safe bet that the chicken buses in El Salvador are probably better at surfing than either Niccole or myself 🙂
