While ostensibly empty, the desert here is never devoid of life. Tough, spiky, drought resistant life. Cacti run the show, cacti of every possible shape and size. And within this parched region, there are a great variety of landscapes.
Undulating plains of dust, plateaus dominated by single agave species, and mountainous slopes punctuated with the bizarre, Dr Suess type cirio trees, creating a truly alien impression.
As perfect as this looks, it was one of those trips where you just go “If only it was three foot bigger…” Having said that how pretty and non-threatening it is – a wave you can just mind surf for hours. A wave that you can share with friends, for hours upon hours on end.
Some of the campfire story telling was pretty hectic. Eight males in the wilderness will always get ribald and raucous, and unfortunately the best stories must remain untold, or at least anonymous. One, featuring a threesome and a dancing, in-situ tapeworm who was apparently intoxicated by a psychotropic alkaloid and acting in a very un-tapeworm like way, will probably not make it to print. It did however cause some of us to almost choke on our beers through sheer hilarity and laughter induced semi-asphyxia…
Dillon Perillo, so often the star of our last year of trips finds pleasure where others find pain. “Every day you had to use this little poo poo bag with all its essentials that you had to use to go do your deal. Eventually, I was kind of looking forward to it. It was pretty funny and it gave me something to focus on!”
For a guy who doesn’t surf many contests (even though he can do well in them) Luke Hynd sure knows the WSL criteria of speed, power and flow in the most critical part of the wave…
The waft to nose pick.
Photo’s courtesy of Rip Curl, for more click here