I grew up in Ventura, a small beach town in California about 70 miles north of Los Angeles. Some of my earliest memories are of spending time at the beach, and I picked up surfing as a kid. Growing up, my biggest heroes were the globe-trotting pro surfers I read about in magazines. I’d often skateboard to the grocery store and spend hours sitting on the cold tile floor, flipping through pages of surf magazines, dreaming about exotic waves and far-off destinations.

Naturally, I had big plans to see the world once I graduated high school.

In 2015, I finally graduated and started saving for my adventures. I worked as a seasonal beach lifeguard from May to August, then bused tables in the fall, winter, and spring. My first big trip was to Nicaragua. I spent a week at a surf camp in Miramar, a small fishing village. It was pure magic: perfect waves, warm water, amazing culture, friendly locals, and ridiculously cheap everything.

That trip was a game-changer. I became friends with the camp owner, who invited me back to work as a surf guide. For the next two years, I lived my dream—surfing, exploring, and immersing myself in the Nicaraguan way of life.