“The heaviest beach break in the World” “Best Barrel of your life” “90

FEATURE
PUERTO
ESCONDIDO
36
OBSERVING
PUERTO
THE BIG WAVES AND even BIGGER CHARACTERS THAT FORM
THE FABRIC OF MEXICO’S FAMOUS SURF TOWN.
Words by Mark Argerakis, Photos by Edwin Morales
(except where noted)
“The heaviest beach break in the World” “Best Barrel of your life” “90 percent close outs”
“You can die out there” “A giant perfect A-frame” “It’s changed” “It’s still Puerto” “Horrible”
“Incredible” “I’m coming back” “Yuck” “Love”.
Puerto Escondido can be encapsulated by all of the above. The truth is that Puerto is a magical place that can deliver anything and everything, from perfect 10 foot peaks on Christmas
Day to a summer of despair, a sandy romance to a painful drubbing and a night in a cell.
It’s always been like that apparently, a powerfully magnetic place full of waves, dreams, tourists, delusions and disasters.
IAN WALSH FALLS FROM THE SKY ON WHAT IS BEING CALLED ONE OF THE HEAVIEST WAVES EVER PADDLED INTO AT PUERTO ESCONDIDO.
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PUERTO
ESCONDIDO
S
ituated just 50kms from the southern most tip
of Mexico’s coast, Puerto Escondido sits on
a stretch of Oaxacan coastline that forms the
kink between the continents of North and South
America – a huge point of energy on our planet.
Hanging out like an elbow into the ribs of the
Pacific, there is little between it, and the peaks
of Antarctica half a world away. The coast draws
and absorbs whatever the Southern Hemisphere
winter can throw at it, and every storm between
New Zealand, Antarctica and Chile will send its swell marching thousands of
kilometres north over the Equator, and this coastline will be its first stop.
The beach at Puerto Escondido faces southwest, deviating from the general
line of the coast, and this causes the generally straight, long period lines of
swell to refract and show some form. La Punta, on the southernmost point of
the beach is the first point of contact for a set. It’ll stand up and explode onto
some nasty looking exposed rocks right out on the point, it will then bend and
march along a jagged line of pinnacles and sand that eventually turn into a
beach. The swell continues charging up the beach from left to right on its way
down Playa Zicatela, gathering size and intensity as it runs. The main break at
Puerto is 2.6 miles down the beach, and a 6-footer at La Punta will eventually
detonate as a 10-foot beast in ‘the arena’.
On the arena stretch there’s a slight bend inland, which straightens out and
hits the rocks of the ‘Hidden Harbour’ (Puerto Escondido). Past the fishing
boats in the harbour and over the breakwall on the other side are the cliffs that
hold the key to the wave. The swell rebounds off the cliffs and heads back to
the bend in the beach where they form the peaks and the rights of the Mexican
Pipe, while the lefts come from the original swell direction.
In another unique geographical phenomenon the San Andreas Fault Line
comes to within a few hundred metres of the shore at Puerto, where the ocean
bed plummets from a depth of two kilometres to around six. Submerged swells
funnel through this gorge at huge speeds before they’re forced over the giant
ledge on shore, forcing them to stand up and form the giant barrels the wave
is known for.
It’s this combination of factors that has seen this stretch of beach become a
regular destination for the best big wave riders in the world. With their boards,
balls, dreams and delusions they come to try and score one of Puerto’s big
dirty sand churning barrels.
X Ghost Riding the Barrel
Mamut, the local tattoo artist, comes hobbling down the beach in a knee brace.
He recently did some ligament damage while pulling a friend out of a fight
over a chick. By anyone’s standards he’s pretty big unit, but for local Oaxacan
standards he’s a Mammoth, hence the name, Mamut. Mamut is responsible
for most of the ink that’s getting around town, and there’s no shortage of it. His
parlour at times acts as a gathering point for the tight-knit local crew. A place
to wrap up the day’s events and engage in trash talk.
Mamut’s either laughing about something or leading the joke himself, but
today he’s got a sweat on and is looking for some shade. It’s 8.30am and it’s
already stinking hot. He’s been tramping the beach delivering a tripod to Paco,
a photographer friend, who’s perched high up in a toilet tower. Under a coco
palm he finds a mate, rests his leg and waits. He’s hoping to see his flatmate,
‘The Rat’, eat shit, but it’s not happening and he knows he’s gonna cop another
afternoon of tossing off in his ear.
He eventually makes his way over to me and asks, “Did you hear what happened yesterday in the afternoon?”
The previous day some heavy waves were rolling in but it was difficult to manage. David Langer from Hawaii was out in the line up and somewhere in transit
his ski conks out. It happened half way between where you want to be and the
beach, a horrible place to find yourself.
It’s 10-foot plus from the back and the swell is on the rise. There’s a 20 second period raging, and big tepee A-frames are drinking up the flats and turning
them into huge hungry hollow beasts that devour and explode. As the script
has it, immediately after the power failure, a big set starts rising from the deep.
Within seconds he starts getting sucked out toward it. The beach is watching
and thinking, screaming under their breath … No ... NO ... NOOOOOOO!!!!!
“...It’s sucked him right into the impact zone and the set starts to pitch,”
“...he’s hoping to see his flatmate,
‘The Rat’, eat shit, but it’s not
happening and he knows he’s
gonna cop another afternoon of
tossing off in his ear...”
CLOCKWISE FROM MAIN: LOCAL CHARGER, OSCAR MONCADA IS A REGULAR FIXTURE IN THE
HOLE ON THE BIG DAYS AT PUERTO/ MAMUT, AKA THE MAMMOTH, IS THE MAN TO SEE FOR
INK IN TOWN/ YOU DON’T WANT TO DROP IN ON A LOCAL WHILE THESE BOYS ARE AROUND.
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Continues Mamut taking up the story again. “He
throws his hands up in the air and dives off his ski.
It pulled the ski directly in the middle of the barrel!”
Mamut is screwing up his face and pointing to the
curve in his palm to explain the perfection of the
position in this hapless situation.
“If he had of been three metres further in or
three metres further out it would have destroyed
him and his ski.”
Sweating a little harder now, Mamut gets up
looking in the direction of the main life guard tower
and hobbles off laughing, “It’s all part of the Puerto
show. Hahahahaaha, Crazy!”
X Washing Clean
It’s the last day of May and whitewater washes up
the sand and through a small shrine set up high on
the beach. The shrine is made up of three small
crosses. They’re different in size and make up, and
all look as though separate individuals have carefully constructed them. Buckets full of wilted flowers encircle the crosses. One bucket lies on its
side, bowled over by the thumping swell.
The crosses bear the names of three irreplaceable characters lost from Puerto Escondido. They
read: Celestino ‘El Apache’ Diaz, 1978-2010. Noel
Robinson, 1972-2010, Ron Cassidy, 1967-2007.
The crosses are remnants from a humble memorial held two-weeks earlier. Friends, family and
passers-by all stopped and paid their respects in
their own way. The mood was quiet and reflective,
and Celestino’s remaining half quietly handed out
food and soft drink.
The death of Californian charger and filmmaker,
Noel Robinson, rocked Puerto in a big way. He’d
been migrating south to Puerto for 15 years, and
had mastered the famous beach break barrel like
not many have. Noel had a hand in mentoring
many of the local and international chargers who
frequent Puerto, and most grew up staring into
the barrel in awe at Noel, with his low crouch and
double-handed stalls.
It was to be however that the wave that had
given Noel so much would also claim his life. It
was a regular wipeout on a wave well within his
limits. Noel was thrown backwards and knocked
out on impact, leaving his lungs devoid of air. One
hour and 20 minutes later, with the beach in frenzy,
a couple of local divers found him, still pinned to
the sand in the impact zone. The seriousness of
the wave was tragically thrust into plain view. While
he died doing what he loved, it doesn’t go close to
filling the canyon that remains in all those whose
hearts he touched.
A week or so later, in the early morning hours,
Celestino was found on a bridge leading into town.
Details surrounding his death remain cloudy; apparently his head hit the curb during a late-night
fall. In life Celestino was gifted with an extremely
colourful, wisecracking personality, and a powerful,
aggressive style in the water. If you were running
good with Cele, you’d be sharing a laugh, but if you
were running bad, it may have been easier to leave
town for a while.
He made himself known to many an Aussie traveller over the years, and he’d always come up with
a fitting name for them. At any given moment a
deafening, “KANGAROOROOTER … watsup Aussie?” would bellow from across the cobblestones.
The intended recipient, and any other Australian in
“One hour and 20 minutes later, with the beach in frenzy, a couple of
local divers found him, still pinned to the sand in the impact zone.”
MAIN: AN INSPIRATION TO MANY IN THE COMMUNITY, NOEL ROBINSON TRAGICALLY DROWNED LAST YEAR AT PUERTO. HIS DEATH LED TO A RE-THINK ON HOW TO APPROACH THE
WAVE SAFELY. RIGHT: MEMORIAL CROSSES FOR THE LOST SONS OF PUERTO.
WHILE MANY WILL ARGUE ABOUT THE HIGH CLOSEOUT RATIO AT PUERTO, YOU CAN’T ARGUE WITH PERFECTION LIKE THIS.
“...He smashed his jet ski, got barrelled and snapped his
leg. Man, he came down here and made shit happen...”
MAIN: IF PUERTO IS REFERRED TO AS THE MEXICAN PIPELINE, THIS BEAST OF RUSTY LONG’S MUST BE MEXICAN BACKDOOR. BELOW: HAWAIIAN, DAVID LANGER HAD A BRIEF AND
HORRYFYING SEASON AT PUERTO THIS YEAR. FIRST DAVID WAS UNINTENTIONALLY BARRELED BY A 20-FOOTER ON HIS SKI AFTER IF BROKE DOWN, THEN THE VERY NEXT DAY HE
SUFFERED THIS HORRYFYING COMPOUND LEG BREAK AFTER GETTING HIS LEG STUCK IN HIS TOW BINDING DURING A WIPEOUT.
earshot, would turn around and see Celestino’s big grin, already lining up his
next comment.
Loved and feared in equal measure, Cele lived a prominent life during Puerto’s developing days. During this time you could just as easily find him chairing the welcoming committee, or the kick-your-arse-out-of-town committee. He
definitely wasn’t afraid of a battle. Sadly though, the toughest battle he fought
was with the bottle. Regardless of his faults, most people had a soft spot for
Cele and wanted to see him at his best. They say that the ocean went crazy
after Cele died.
The legacies Noel and Cele left for Puerto are interesting ones, and in the
majority they are positive. People have begun to ‘get busy living’ in the wake of
that week. Whether it be taking up new personal challenges such as training
harder, committing to charge bigger waves, drinking or smoking and partying
less, or spending better time with family and friends, realising a love or passion
and working for it. People have gotten a little more serious with life, dropped
the sideshow and focused.
In the wake of Noel’s death, the wave and how to survive it has also been
re-evaluated. There’s an old ‘Puerto Underground’ movie where there’s one
guy standing on the shore wearing a t-shirt that says, ‘Friends don’t let friends
wear leashes’. It had always been a unwritten law that you don’t wear a leash
at Puerto, especially when it’s big. The reason being, that you don’t want your
board anywhere near you when you wipeout in the barrel. Also, the board and
the leash can at times anchor you in the impact zone if you come unstuck on
the take-off or kook your paddle-out.
The no-leash rule doesn’t apply these days, especially to the big wave guys.
Now you see long leashes rolled up like stock whips as they walk their guns to
the shore. A lot more helmets and buoyancy vests are decorating the line up
too. A few guys have also been testing out chest-mounted oxygen tanks.
This season, after wearing three sets on the head, Ken ‘Skindog’ Collins
didn’t hesitate to have a few puffs. “You only get about 10 breaths though, so
they have to be used wisely,” he says.
X OOPs ... again
It’s late afternoon of the day of a big swell and the onshore has backed right off.
The adrenaline-fuelled morning of waves has drained everyone, and Zicatela is
floating under a post orgasm kind of calm.
I’m back at the shrine on the beach again. Joined this time by local photographer Edwin Morales, who is looking to capture the perfect shot of the tribute
to his lost friends.
Breaking the mood he asks, “Did you hear what happened today?”
I shake my head.
“No way man, I felt bad for even taking pictures,” He shudders as he speaks.
“Do you know David Langer from Hawaii?”
“Yeah,” I reply. “The same guy who got involuntarily barrelled on his ski yesterday.”
“Yeah, well he got towed into a wave this morning, and not even a big one, it
was frothy and crumbling.” Explains Edwin. “He pulled in and I stopped watching because there was something out the back. When I looked back I saw him
in the white water, and in serious pain. The ski ran him to the beach and he was
screaming, holding his leg.”
From what I can gather from the rest of Edwin’s story it seems as though
Langer couldn’t get his foot out of the bindings in time and the wipe out ripped
on his foot so hard that it broke both his shin bones in two places each, the
main bone sticking out the front of his leg like a dagger. He was then carried off
via ambulance to begin months of operations and rehabilitation.
That evening during the hundredth telling of the story, Skindog states, “He
smashed his jet ski, got barrelled and snapped his leg. Man, he came down
here and made shit happen!”
Everyone breaks into a beer spitting laughter.
X Team Tow and Fro v Paddle
It’s late afternoon and I’m sitting in Zicatela Bungalows, right across the road
from the peak. A few beers are going down and it serves to lubricate a discussion amongst friends about big wave surfing in Puerto. Coco Nogales resists at
first, but Skindog convinces him to have one with the boys and it is these two
who lead the discussion.
Coco, or ‘La Ratta’ as he’s known, resides in Mexico City and came all the
way down for this swell. He has an anxiousness about him and he keeps standing up and staring out the window every time he feels the thunder of another
set. He got clipped coming out of a big barrel this morning and it plays on his
mind. The same thing also happened during the last swell, and he’s slightly
pissed at himself, but remains cheerful.
Coco is a relentless character in every way, but it’s not his problem, it’s yours.
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ESCONDIDO
During the discussion he starts slinging verbal shit
around the room and before long everyone’s at it.
The funny thing is that a lot of it’s landing on Coco
himself. One thing is undeniable though, the Rat’s
putting himself in the spot and scoring bombs at
Puerto; he’s earned his title as Mexico City’s biggest charger, a place where a charger is usually the
guy working the till at the taco stand. Whenever the
Rat is around it’s relaxed and care free, just like
Mexico should be.
In 2006 Coco towed Skindog into a wave at
Puerto that won Skindog the XXL Biggest Barrel
of the year award, but this time they’re not on that
topic. Greg Long has been nailing some insane
barrels during the latest swell and becomes the
name on everyone’s lips.
“It’s not just this swell,” Coco states. “He’s
doing it everywhere! Puerto, Todos Santos… it’s
him… the waves are just coming to him!”
It’s agreed amongst the group that he’s doing
a Kelly Slater ‘wave magnet thing’, but on the big
wave stage. That he’s actually somehow willing the
perfect waves upon himself, and then he’s nailing
them.
It’s also noted that Greg’s not towing at all. He’s
sitting and waiting, for hours if he has to, for the
perfect one. Always paying close attention to the
best peak, where it’s landing, if it’s shifting, where
it will let you in, and then moving into position like
a hunter.
Changing the subject, Skindog begins to talk
about the transition from tow to paddle and how
it can screw up your surfing a little. The difference
in speed, the line, the time and the space is huge
and it takes some adjusting. And when you’re
changing between the two, your mind-set is not
100% on either one. Skindog offers this in a sympathetic tone, possibly to offer Coco some sort of
reasoning for his blown barrels.
So far this season it’s the paddlers that have
pulled off the craziest rides for sure. Ian Walsh,
big-boned and brought up big in Hawaii, grabbed
what some locals regard as one of the heaviest
paddle waves ever seen here. Nick Lamb of Santa
Cruz, Oscar Moncado, who grew up in the barrel
here, and Rusty Long have all bagged epic crowd
cheerers for their rides, and all paddling.
As the beer shine and laughs subside, the guys
notice that the tide has suddenly started working
perfectly with the swell. It’s peaking and giant lefts
and rights peel off. The odd 20 foot set hits, sending shudders through the sand as it erupts, but it’s
chandeliering slightly and needs a puff of offshore.
Coco starts throwing up the idea of going and getting a few late ones on the ski, but it’s not taken
too seriously. With the crack of another tinny they
head up onto the roof to watch Anthony Tashnick
paddle out alone and late amongst shifting liquid
mountains.
X Greg Long on Puerto
“There is a big element of luck involved in perfectly
lining up one of those peaks, as there are a lot of
variables working against you and your efforts to
do so. However, over the years of surfing and studying the wave, I have learned there are a number of
those variables that you can actually control, and
help you create your own ‘luck’.”
“When I know it is going to be big in Puerto, I
always have an early dinner and get to bed at a
reasonable hour. I will wake up as early as 4:30,
or two hours before first light depending on the
time of the year. The pre-dawn hours consist of
30 minutes-one hour of yoga, a few glasses of water and maybe some fruit or an energy bar. I want
my body to feel alive and be firing on all cylinders
when I paddle out. None of that early morning assdragging groggy feeling, or oops I have to take another shit right before I paddle out. You surf your
best when you are feeling good both physically and
mentally.”
“When it’s big, the wind is blowing offshore and
I know there is a chance for some clean waves, I
will paddle out from the harbour (1/2 mile to the
north) in the dark. On regular days I paddle from
the beach at first light. I want to be waiting in the
line-up and ready to start surfing as soon as it is
light enough to do so. If you wait to see some good
sets in order to convince yourself to paddle out,
you have already missed an opportunity to catch
a great wave. I will almost always surf until the onshore wind comes up and forces me to go in.”
“In the line-up you are constantly faced with
horrendous rips and raging currents. Those are
undoubtedly the greatest adversities. At Puerto a
good wave needs a clean wave face or “runway”,
and at times finding this can prove to be a serious
endeavour. When I am in the lineup I am constantly
scanning up and down the beach looking for them,
but also paying attention to where it looks like the
next big rip might start up, and where I need to
paddle in order to avoid it. I also pay close attention to the overall direction in which the swell is
coming from, as waves will tend to focus on very
particular sections of the beach depending on the
angle. This plays a big part in where I choose to sit
on any given day.”
“When selecting my waves, if I have even the
slightest doubt that it may close out, or get funky at
some point I will avoid it. Referencing back to the
idea that the more time spent in the lineup the better your chances… Poor wave selection only leads
to broken boards, bodies, and the daunting task of
making the paddle back out which more often than
not takes a very long time. Ultimately, riding shitty
COCO ‘LA RATTA’ NOGALES, SPENDS MOST OF HIS TIME IN MEXICO CITY, BUT LOVES COMING
DOWN TO NAVIGATE HIS WAY THROUGH A FEW PUERTO DRAINPIPES. LEFT: THE BOYS.
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PUERTO
ESCONDIDO
waves will take you out of the game and decrease your odds of finding
a good one. In my big wave surfing I have adopted a theory that “all it
takes is one”. I will wait as long as I need to in order to find that one
wave that is going to be memorable and stay with me. Sometimes it
takes hours to find. Other days you won’t at all, but if you keep at it, it
will happen eventually.”
“My main objective when I paddle out is to get barrelled. Doing turns
at Puerto is not on my agenda. That is what the point breaks are for.
That being said, I will always choose to ride a larger board. A bigger,
thicker board allows you to track down the waves easier. As the peaks
are ever-shifting, more volume allows you to cover a greater distance
faster, and get yourself in the perfect spot more often. Paddling is my
main focus at the moment. I will only choose to tow when it gets too big
to paddle. And fortunately with the harbour to the north, you can always
make it out and have a go. Your wave count will always be substantially
lower than that of the tow surfers, but the gratification I get from paddling into a wave far surpasses that which I receive when I am towing,
so I have no qualms with that notion.”
“Puerto is undoubtedly one of the most unpredictable waves I have
ever surfed. For every good session I’ve had, I’ve had at least three
that were mentally tormenting. So many times you just miss the wave
of the day. Or are too late, too deep, too far out, or inside. It happens to
everybody who surfs out there and I am no exception. This year I had a
few great waves. But what people didn’t see, or rather what you don’t
hear about, were the half dozen big days that I didn’t catch anything.
Or in the scenario of last year the four swells I chased down there and
didn’t get a single noteworthy wave. You just have to pay your dues.
For me all those frustrating sessions and moments are what make the
triumphs that much greater.”
X Night life
There’s a lot of love in this town, but it’s not always for free. The
harder you work the more love there is. You’ve gotta put in to get the
Puerto magic, and the rewards can be spiritual.
You can sense the magic of the place the moment you arrive and it’s
strong. That’s one of the traps for visitors. If your half lost or indecisive
about what you’re doing in life, Puerto may seem as good a place as
any to find yourself, but it can just as easily send you into a gravity
spin.
There have been many a good crew come through town, nail some
good swells, the odd chick and indulge in a great Mexican experience.
They also enjoy the party scene, which is no problem, until it suddenly
becomes one. Night overcomes day, and before long surfing isn’t even
on the menu. They head home in a state of distress, rattled and broke
all their money blown on coke and dope. They all promise to come
back and do it right. Trouble is those same old vices will be waiting
their return. It’s a matter of focus and discipline, with the odd lapse
after a good swell.
There is also a great tale about a drifting Argentinean expat, more
known for the fact that he hitch hiked from Argentina to Mexico when
he was 15 years old, than for his prowess in the lineup. One night the
Argentinean found himself at a fancy dress party in Guadua Restaurant. He comes dressed as a shopping bag from the local supermarket
called ‘Super Che’. The pun being super Che Guevara if you missed
it.
Somehow in amongst the mess he was met by the eyes of a Brazilian supermodel, in town for a photo shoot. Twenty-two years old and a
goddess with unimaginable beauty they say. To the envy of every red
blooded barer of ‘huevos’, she lost herself in his pathetic ‘pirated’
Portuguese and ridiculous outfit.
She had a pocket full of cash, a burning in her loins and an idea to
take him to New York to produce his music and love his bits to bits.
Escaping from the studio, she cancelled her ticket home and went
searching for his rusty cabin on the beach. When she came knocking
his room mate opened the door and nearly drowned in his own drool.
To this day he recounts the story.
“Fucking unbelievable. The most beautiful I’ve ever seen. I was
swimming in her eyes man. Bright green like they had a light behind
them!” he quivers with the memory.
Gushing with excitement she attempts to present her plan and initi-
“...Poor wave selection only leads to broken boards, bodies,
and the daunting task of making the paddle back out...”
GREG LONG MAY WAIT HOURS FOR JUST THE RIGHT WAVE, SO WHEN HE RISES TO HIS FEET YOU KNOW IT’S GOING TO BE THE GOODS.
AUSTRALIAN, GARY HUGHES WAS DUBBED ‘RUCO BANDA’ BY THE BOYS, TRANSLATED IT MEANS ‘OLDIE BUT A
GOODIE’. THE NEXT YEAR HE RETURNED WITH IT TATTOOED ACROSS HIS CHEST.
ate proceedings with the Argentinean drifter.
“Do it you fool!” was his friend’s advice. “LOOK at her!”
He loved her about 30 odd times, before realising that her dream was bigger than his. He decided to stay at home in Puerto, thumb the fuss, glamour
and the paparazzi.
That sort of thing can happen here. It’s the power of the place.
X How Advanced Australians Fare
Due to its close proximity to the US, Mexico is a fast, cheap option for American surfers to bolt down and score epic waves at a swell’s notice. For Australians it’s not that easy. They do end up here, but Puerto for an Australian is
more of a distant dreamy fantasy for the travelling surfer with months up his
sleeve. At the moment there’s a lot of them scattered up and down the coast,
but they will always pop in and out of Puerto. Others hang in town and do the
Zicatela time.
Gary ‘Gazza’ Hughes is one of them. Fifty-three-years-old, surf coach and
old time rocker from Foster, Gary has fallen under the spell of the Puerto barrel
and lifestyle. ‘Ruco banda’ or ‘Oldie but a goodie’ was the title given to him
when he first showed up, and the next season he rocked up with it tattooed
around his neck.
It’s now his seventh season in Puerto and he’s at home. His electric red,
10-foot, triple stringer gun has fired him into one or two of the good ones on
solid days and he has earned a lot of fans. He’s also one of the last remaining
leashless guys.
As Gary explains, “For me personally, it’s got to do with the primal essence
of Puerto, which is one of simplicity and purity. All you really need is a surfboard, boardies, fitness and a commitment to riding large, hollow, powerful
waves.”
He was seen jogging the beach the other day with his arm in a sling, the
result of putting his arm into the face to stall for a barrel and tearing his bicep.
A couple of days and he’ll be back. Ripped up and buzzing with energy, the first
out and living up to his name.
X THE FUTURE
There is an unprecedented focus and discipline amongst the local grommets
in Puerto. And it is starting to pay off. There are a bunch of young kids making
the most of the summer swells. Getting bigger and better with each passing
season. Frothing around the boil rocks at La Punta, owning Zicatela when it’s
smaller. Sitting deep, watching the pros and improving fast. With the healthy
influence of knowledgeable elders it wont be long before a young Mexican
busts onto the international scene.
Coco has been putting a lot of effort into ensuring the future of his beloved
Puerto, channelling his energy into organising a big wave invitational at the
break. Mentioning he’d love to have Australian surfers such as Laurie Towner,
Koby Abberton, Mark Mathews and Dean Bowen surf Puerto at its best in
competition. With a proper window period and a solid purse, it would be an
awesome spectacle for competitors and viewers around the world.
The puerto challenge is always physical, mental and magical X