SOUTH OF THE BORDER

SOUTH OF THE BORDER
 

Saturday morning I woke up to my phone ringing, “Want to drive down to Mexico?” my friend Barron said. Without hesitation I got out of bed, grabbed my gear, and headed over to make the trip across the border with a few friends. A short ride from the commercialized streets of San Diego we arrived in Mexico.  The streets lined with taco stands, stray dogs, go carts and camel rides; we began the search to find the best spot to surf for the day.

 
 

After driving around the coast and checking a few potential surf spots, our buddy Jacob from Peru remembered he had a friend whose cousin lived in the area. A quick phone call and a few wrong turns later, Jacob’s friend ended up leading us to a perfect lineup filled with barreling offshore waves.

 
 

Unfortunately after a few hours of pure stoke, the waves switched to crap as the wind turned onshore. We headed back to sit in the hour and a half long borderline to get us back home and picked up some tacos along the way. My friends dropped me off at my car and I got ready to head back home but not before planning on doing the same thing again the next day, and so that’s what we did.

 
 

Sunday morning we arrived to the same spot, to see the same perfect offshore barrels, just a few feet smaller and with half the crowd. Another day spent south of the border with a couple good homies, not much more you could ask for.

 

Text & photography by Claire Murphy