January 28th, 2010

Up at 6 a.m.

We are on our way to Domes, the spot I have been watching for weeks on the internet. One short boarder is paddling out, but it's a third the size of yesterday at Wilderness. Andy and I decide to go get Ryan and Deb and get breakfast. We will use this day to explore some breaks, as the locals told us the waves would come up tomorrow.

We headed for a local bakery, but everyone was in the mood for something more substantial. As we trundled out the door of the bakery, a local surfer was getting into his truck and spied us, talking about breakfast, and he asked us what we were looking for. That was when Deb and I knew it was serendipity. I had been back at the room earlier, wishing we would get moving and out the door, but something made me pause. I actually wondered about how if you slowed down, and went with the flow, how it might change your course. Deb was saying this as we drove to the place the surfer suggested, how we met this guy at just that instant in time. If we had arrived earlier, or later, we would have never found that breakfast place that brought us such happiness.

It was called, "The English Rose." The surfer told us to follow the winding road, and that it would be like a roller coaster, which it certainly was. Ryan and I screamed like little girls when we saw the steep drop and climb up ahead. Andy gunned it, and we went flying down that blacktop and back up again. Our stomachs fell away, and I could not even look. Soon, we were at the top of the hill, and on the doorstep of one of the best breakfast places I have ever experienced. We ate there every morning after that. How about the "Dead Elvis," thick slices of French toast made with homemade bread with carmelized bananas, or Eggs Benedict Benny Hill (with salmon), or an omelet with olives, peppers and onions, with "Bubble and Squeak" that made you swoon, fresh papaya to die for, and the passion fruit-mint-iced tea? Oh, Ruth and Jethro (the owners), how we adore you.

We drove to "Crashboats" to snorkel. The sky was perfect and blue. We were so happy, and the trees swayed in the breeze. After that, we were off to check Wilderness. It was smaller than yesterday, but fun-looking, with only a couple guys out. Oops, here comes a tow truck. Three surfers were robbed. Not too smart, you might say, leaving all your stuff in the car with the windows rolled down. If there is anything I know, it's not to do that in PR. The thief took the bag, and the car keys with it.

The lefts were really firing this day! I was having more fun than yesterday. You would paddle for these wedging lefts that were so crystal clear, and in the paddling for them came this moment, the way the sunlight filtered through the water, that was just divine and sublime and all those words that you want to use to explain, but realize just don't convey it. I will always remember that afternoon, how the water looked, and the way those lefts pitched and rolled as they felt their way along that jagged reef.

After this, we drove back to Rincon and along the way we stopped to look at Maria's. Wow, look out there! The afternoon was waning, and the scene had this certain glow as we looked out to see about ten surfers riding these little peelers about chest high. I wanted to get right out there. We saw a right that was pitching over some rocks, and we wondered why no one was over there. Let's go, I said! The swell appeared to be coming up, the lines more distinct. I got my best wave yet out there this afternoon. A rolling, pitching right reared up that I just pulled into, and it rolled over me, whirled and whirled, and out I came! On the bad side, after Andy and I caught a few, everyone paddled over to where we were. No matter, we had some tasty waves as the sun was going down...