Day One
I lay in bed scratching at my mosquito bites. It was 5 in the morning and I knew the alarm was about to go off. No point in trying to sleep now.
How could I? The waves were absolutely pumping, big barrels like I’d seen in surf movies growing up. Fuck it, you can sleep when your dead.
We were at a region frequented by Jamie O’Brien and his crew. I’d surfed some gnarly spots before, but never anything like this… a big, raw beach break.
My mind was flooded with a mix of both excitement and fear. I was anxious, the anticipation was killing me. This wave was on another level, the kind of power that demands respect.
Finally the sun was about to rise. We brewed some coffee and walked across the street to the sand. There was a salty mist that filled the air and the endless coconut trees swayed gently in the light offshore wind. The sun was just beginning to rise.
We stood there in silence, the three of us, watching as massive teepees smashed relentlessly into the sand. The sheer power and energy were humbling, and a little terrifying.
Nick, my best friend, turned to me. We didn’t need to say anything, we both knew. This was what we came for. This was why we made the trip.
Just one problem: my ankle was seriously, completely FUCKED.
Flashback
Let me take you back three days prior to Sayulita, Mexico. Sayulita is a super fun little surf town close to Puerto Vallarta.
You see, this was just the beginning of a grand Central America surf trip for me and my two buddies, Nick and Justin. We started in Baja, then moved to mainland Mexico, with plans to hit El Salvador, Costa Rica, and finish in Panama. Big plans. Lotta waves. Big adventure.
Okay, back to Sayulita. That place is seriously sick. Great people, AMAZING tacos, fun surf, and even better bars. The waves were subpar, so naturally, we stuck to the tacos and bars.
It was Friday night. One thing led to another, and I found myself a few tequila shots deep. Maybe more than a few.
At some point I wandered off to find more tacos. The dance floor was on the second story and the only way up or down was on a sketchy spiral staircase.
Now, let me tell you – I did pretty well. I made it all the way down to the bottom but sadly the gap from the last step to the ground was much larger than anticipated. I stepped, I fell, and my ankle went completely sideways. I definitely felt a crack or two.
It was bad, but tequila has this magical way of numbing the pain, so I shrugged it off and went right back to dancing to reggaeton.
Oh, and as if my ankle wasn’t enough, we also managed to lock ourselves out of our house. Justin, who’s 6’5, decided he’d climb through the smallest window imaginable to get us back in. Yeah we’re stupid but you know what? No regrets.
Back to the Beach
I stood there with my board, just watching the ocean. The offshore wind had picked up and was blowing against my back – gently guiding me towards the water. I closed my eyes and took a long deep breath.
I’ve dedicated my life to surfing and this is what I’ve always dreamed of. I was damn grateful to be here.
Nobody else was surfing, definitely strange considering there were other surfers in town. Justin perched himself up high with his camera while Nick stood beside me, calm as ever. He didn’t show it, but there was no way he wasn’t at least a little nervous too. Still, the guy’s an animal – the best waterman I know, hands down.
Here’s some proof: Justin took some photos of him on this trip, and, honestly, they speak for themselves. The guy thrives in the water, whether it’s surfing or diving or pretty much anything adrenaline fueled.
I hit the water. How’s standing going to feel on my ankle? I hadn’t surfed since I rolled it, so I guess we were about to find out.
The waves were courtesy of Hurricane Pamela, which was sending short-period swell from the north while a long-period south swell filled in simultaneously. The result? Ultra-consistent peaks with little to no time between sets. It was relentless.
We made it out to the lineup and sat there on our boards, taking it all in. I was riding a 7’0 barrel rider I’d picked up at Ventura Surf Shop before the trip and Nick was on an 8’6 made by a local shaper back home – a sweet board and definitely better suited for waves like this. Looking back, my board was way too small for the conditions, but it was all I had.
After letting a few sets roll by us, we both felt confident enough to edge closer to the takeoff zone.
That’s when the nerves started to creep in.
I usually feel pretty comfortable in the water, but sometimes that little voice in your head, the one telling you that you’re going to die, just won’t shut up.
Why was I letting this little voice control me? I’ve surfed my entire life, I can handle this. This is what I want to do, so do it!
Just as that thought settled, Nick whistled and pointed to the horizon. Out the back, a five-wave set was rolling in.
Great.
Now, generally, it’s not a good idea to take off on the first wave of a big set. If you fall or don’t catch it, you’ll be stuck in the impact zone and have to take the rest of the waves on the head. For some reason, that thought didn’t occur to me in the moment. I wasn’t thinking, I was just reacting.
A big and honestly perfect left came right to me. I turned, paddled hard, and fully committed.
I was locked in.
Now I know you’re expecting me to tell you that I overcame my doubt, dropped in and watched the wave barrel over me in slow motion, easily getting the best wave of my life.
Well, that’s not what happened. I didn’t even get a chance to feel my ankle because before I knew it, I was going straight over the fucking falls. I’m talking a 20-foot elevator drop, backward and upside down, then getting pinned on the sand with what felt like a sumo wrestler standing on my back and jumping up and down.
The Wipeout
In the grand scheme of things, the slam wasn’t as bad as it looked. It was just humbling. I felt like Cody Maverick when he slammed in the beginning of Surf’s Up. Watch the full unedited wipeout here.
The bottom was sand and pretty shallow. The hold down couldn’t have been more than 10 seconds. My leash snapped off, but thankfully, I was wearing an impact vest, a sort of surfing life jacket, which helped me surface quickly. After taking the rest of the set on the head, I made my way in. I was winded and my face was a bit sore from hitting the bottom, but overall I was fine.
I waved the boys off with an ‘all good’ signal and made my way to Justin to watch the footage. Meanwhile, Nick stayed out and caught 5 or 6 good ones. Watching him, I felt a mix of stoke and frustration.
Now, eating sand wasn’t the result I was hoping for, but it reassured me that I could handle the worst out there. In a strange way, it gave me confidence.
What was I doing? I couldn’t let one wipeout be the end of my session. So I quickly pumped myself back up and hit the water.
That’s when reality slapped me in the face, literally. On my way out, I got caught inside and had to ditch my board. Before I could even make it to the lineup, my only step-up was snapped in two.
Absolute disaster.
There I was, standing on the beach, watching some of the best waves I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t even make it past the impact zone.
Dammit.
In the moment, it felt like failure. But looking back, I realize it was anything but. It was my first attempt, and I pushed myself and tried my best. It taught me that I was capable and gave me the confidence to try again.
By midday, the wind had turned onshore, so we headed back to our room for some much-needed rest. We devoured an absurdly large meal, I think it was just a pile of eggs and rice, and watched Squid Game. For some reason, we were completely hooked on it during this segment of the trip. Every session would end with us crashing in front of our phones, just binge-watching Squid Game. We finished the show in four days.
Day 1 was rough. But it was only the beginning, and I wasn’t about to give up. I was determined to find my rhythm.
A New Strategy
Even though Nick was able to get a couple of waves, we were mostly undergunned. We needed help.
Enter Brian Conley, one of the best barrel riders ever and a world-class jet ski operator. He calls this beach home and if you haven’t heard of him, look him up. For a price, he would take us out on the ski and get us into waves.
If we really wanted to score, this was our only option. I’m not gonna lie, it was expensive. But we all agreed it was worth every penny.
So we reached out to Brian on Instagram that afternoon and arranged to meet at dawn the next morning. The froth was at an all time high. Brian was a legend, and with his help, we were sure to get shacked.
Excited as I was, that little voice in my head wouldn’t shut up, though. What if I don’t get a wave? What if we blow all this money on nothing? Our budget was tight, and this splurge could ripple through the rest of our trip. But the possibility of getting those waves outweighed everything.
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
Day Two
Every day started with coffee. We chugged ours quickly and made our way down to the beach. The air was crisp and salty, the waves still massive but slightly less chaotic than the day before. We walked about 300 yards south of where we had surfed the day before to meet Brian.
He was already there, waiting for us in his black Tacoma carrying the ski on a trailer. Such a sick setup.
Nick surfed with him the year before so we were familiar with the process.
Brian gave us a quick rundown.
When doing step-offs, you ride on the back of the ski with both legs off the side while holding the board. When the operator spots a wave, he speeds into position, and when he gives the signal, you jump off onto your belly and immediately stand up.
The beauty of step-offs is that you get into the wave early with speed. It really gives you time to set up and put yourself in position.
I opted to go first. I had never done step-offs before, but how hard could it be? I got this.
Oh yeah, when you’re on a ski, you use a special board too. It weighs significantly more than a regular board to handle the speed while keeping control.
Well, here we go. The ski was in the water, I tightly gripped the sled as we made our way out. “You ready?” He asked me. I nodded confidently.
Fuck yeah, I was ready. Just don’t blow it – everyone’s watching. Here comes the set.
The Moment of Truth
Here we go.
When he whipped me in, everything went away—yesterday’s slam, my fucked up ankle, my self doubt – all of it.
Gone.
He gave me the signal, and I jumped off. I got to my feet, drew out my bottom turn, and pulled in.
I did it. I fucking did it.
From then on, I was brimming with confidence. The rest of the day, Nick and I switched off, getting loads of waves until the wind went onshore. But it was all good – we had our fill. Money well spent.
I’ll link a little video we made of the session below.
Over the next three days the swell trended down. We surfed our brains out and got some really fun waves, but nothing compares to that session we had on day two. ill remember that session forever.
This day was instrumental in my journey. Now I’m no professional surfer – far from it. But this day showed me that taking risks and putting yourself out there is how you succeed. It made me realize what I’m capable of, not only in surfing but in life. If you want something, you’ve got to just send it. It’s you against you out there – so go get after it legends.