Area of Operations

"Any requests?"

"Yeh.  Bananas.  More bananas,"  I told Dan and Trevor as they stood just outside the van in parking lot of a grocery store in Guerrero Negro with a fistful of pesos. "Get enough for four of five days.  We ran out a little early last time."

"Alright. Anything else?

"Nope. Ohh and don't forget about refilling the water jugs."


With a slam of the sliding door,  they walked towards grocery store's swinging doors, leaving me to keep an eye on Syncro and the six surfboards strapped haphazardly to the roof.   I unclicked my seat belt and stuck my head out the window.

"Surprise me with an ice cream bar,"  I shouted after them.

Going off a week-old swell report saved on my laptop and a few scribbles and highlights on a handed down AAA map of Baja, we had left our previous camp at sunrise that morning.  Headed for greener pastures, we stopped in Guerrero Negro to restock on provisions and satisfy a healthy appetite for fish tacos.  From what we gathered from other traveling surfers, the break we were heading to  sounded like the promised land.  For weeks we had heard reports of consistent waves, plentiful spear fishing and campsites built from cobblestones.  Heaven.

An hour later we pulled off Highway 1 onto an unmarked dirt road and headed west towards the coast.   Based on the well cut ruts in the road's recently emptied mud puddles,  we were on the track.

"Just take every possible left,  and we should be good,"  Dan advised from the passenger seat.

Bouncing on the rutted road for twenty miles, we finally crested the last hill and saw the ocean and a handful of campsites dotting a mile of coastline.   Out in the bay,  an empty wave pealed for two hundred yards along the cobblestone beach.

The grass can be greener.


So pitted.

Sticks and stones.


Changing room.

Firewood rack.

A kitchen with a view.

Lundin equipped with poncho and coconut water.

A fellow traveler holing up for the winter.

We rode the point break in the mornings and the cove in the afternoons.  Around lunch, we d0nned our spear fishing gear and searched for dinner.  Getting into a rhythm, our days started shortly after sunrise and ended just after sunset.  For five days,  we used this camp as our area of operations.

Here are some more links,

@Fosterhunting (Twitter),

Baja California Norte (Facebook).