Puerto Rican Adventure

Finally!  We spent most of Covid incubating our Puerto Rican dream - and it was FINALLY here.  The three of us, Maria, Debra, and I were in PR ready to surf! 

Maria, a native Spanish speaker, had gone down three weeks early. She got a house for us, and, being Maria, made many friends. Her closest friend was Christina, a recent transplant from Alaska and a relatively new surfer (and good musician).   

Debra, Maria, and Christina are go-for-it people. It’s a combination of athletic confidence and willingness to do things even when scared. We decided to go for it and head to the beach. 

(Maria, dubbed “Princessa d’Agua” by Robert)  

The morning was sunglasses-bright and tropically warm. We walked through the trees to the beach with our rented boards and DAMN! The waves were BIG! At first glance, they seemed out of my and Debra’s range. Maria told us that the waves in PR are gentle giants. We trusted that, once we got out, they would seem friendlier. We were there to surf, so we went for it.

  

Entering and leaving the ocean could only be done from ONE place about four feet wide where you could see a sandy bottom. Otherwise, you may step on a sea urchin (painful, not life-threatening) or a rockfish (very, very painful and possibly life threatening). The reef created a step down into the ocean like a pool. The rule was to take two steps into the ocean to get deeper than the fin, then push off onto your board and start paddling. Never touch the bottom after that. 

Paddling over a living coral reef is breathtaking. On the other hand, those of us new to the hard jagged edges were a little freaked out about the prospect of wiping out on one. It didn’t help that the coral looked closer than it was through that crystal clear water. 

 

Deep breath and paddle out. 

 

F########CK! These waves were giants alright, but nothing gentle about them. Debra got trashed and came in. I didn’t even have that excuse. I came in without a single ride. I was worried that I would never be able to take these waves. 

(Chirstina, on an overhead wave. She’d been surfing 3 months)

We decided to get a coach, and as soon as we made the decision, Robert walked past us. 

 

He has an excellent reputation and has ccoached throughout Latin America. We asked pleadingly if he was available the next day. He was, thank God! So we went home, Debra and I a little apprehensive about six more days of surfing, while Maria and Christina were stoked about the waves they’d caught.

Maria, Debra and I went back to the lovely little house where we spent the week. Driving back was the first time I experienced the wrath of the driveway gods that created this entrance. The pitch of the road down to it was crazy-steep and the driveway was flanked with obstacles: a large decorative piece of coral on one side and a cement post on the other. Fortunately, Debra is the high-priestess of tricky driveways and was able to dominate it, despite the ever-present fear of grinding metal on a rented car. 

Debra, driveway high-priestess and all-around goddess) 

Later that evening, a few of us went to Robert’s for a small party. The vibe was casual with lots of food, drink, and Reggae. Robert is in a band and many of his musician friends sat outside in the evening breeze and jammed. There was a drum kit, guitars, a keyboard, and people sang. Christina and her mad guitar skills and high, willowy voice added some bluegrass to the mix.

The  magical night calmed us despite our chaotic first day in the waves. It was the start of a great adventure.