By James Murdock
Tequilla, chica blanca, bammer/bash, hulk juice and the occasional tube: Mexico’s got it all and a lot more. Of course the best perk about Mexico is all these great things are cheap as fuck! The US dollar is strong which is true for most other outsiders: ET’s, AF’s, and dirty Frenchmen. If you haven’t embarked past Baja you’re missing out on the real Mexico. With the rapid growth that is going on in this popular wave-rich land of Puerto and other beach towns up and down the coast, tourists will flock and with them they will bring the tourist based prices. This would be my fifth year of lurking mainland and in that short period the growth and development has been intense! Even if you don’t make it to Puerto, there are so many other insane spots south of Baja all the way down to the very most southern regions of Mexico!
The crew consisted of Adam (BGA), Sandy (Sandy Sphincter), Zach (Sloth), Kellen (Killer), Cale (still nickname free), myself (Murder), and last and certainly not least Chad Jackson (El Jefe). Everybody crashed at my house the night before departing with little to no sleep happening due to the high anticipation of this Mexico mission that lay ahead of us. Killer and myself received some of the most appalling mullets known to man courtesy of my girlfriend. The crew was pushing for a night of no sleep to guarantee coma time on the plane even though we have our sleep-assisting barbiturates to help us! The drive down to LA was brutal. I was running on no sleep and was falling asleep every few miles. We made it to the airport barely avoiding multiple close calls on the 405. Everybody made their flight. I only mention this cause in many prior situations somebody has got a little too fucked up and was either not allowed on the plane or just couldn’t navigate there way through a busy airport! Things were rolling smoothly – that is until I revealed my barbiturate stash to Adam and Zach. Pills were getting popped like kernels in a popcorn machine! The plane flight was going good until I started buying a bunch of booze. One thing led to another and to make a long story short I got too fucked up and left my wallet on the plane. I stumbled through customs and ended up leaving my passport at the customs desk. Fortunately that got recovered but I can’t say the same about my wallet. That’s right, that motherfucker was long gone. It was a shitty feeling losing your wallet before you even step foot on Mexican soil. I had a semi nervous breakdown for a short period of time but with the help from the crew, and especially BGA who temporally would be funding my trip shit, worked out and we were headed to the remote beach town inside the state of Colima. We made it to the hotel in the late afternoon and were able to check waves, pound some Corona Familiars and lace the bam sack all before sunset! The little hotel that was to be our home for the next few weeks was pretty legit. I meeeaaaan fuuuuck it had AC and some mattresses that were like big bags of potatoes! Oh ya there were only two beds and five of us so Sphincter had to post it on the ground and build a mattress out of bodyboards, which I know from experience is shitty for a makeshift mattress. Everyone was pretty tired from the day of traveling making for an early night pass out. Morning time came and the waves where going off! Perfect overhead peeks with no one out! It’s always nice to get some barrels the first day you get somewhere, it makes you think that it’s going to be a good trip! It felt good to get a warm water barrel and not have a bulky wetsuit rubbing on your sack.
The next couple of days were carbon copies of the first day in and out of the water. Our daily routine consisted of a long morning sesh followed by a huge snack and after that it would be lurk time until evening snack time came. The routine soon came to an end with the arrival of Chad Jackson, an underground 805 standup who is the definition of hard core. He owns a couple of the heavy reef breaks back home and can get barreled as deep as bodyboarders. His mullet is the inspiration behind Kellen’s and my own creations. Jackson showed up right on schedule and was super amped to see the boogie crew who he would now be staying with for the next 3 weeks. I think it’s fucking sick that a surfer who rips as hard as Chad is down to travel with six other bodyboarders. The night of his arrival we got extra bammed and we saw Jackson in full effect. The power at our hotel went out so we were blasting a battery charged cassette player and burning candles on our deck. Occasionally our deck would be lit up by a massive bolt of lightning. Sleeping was a bit difficult due to the loud thunder and with no power comes no AC!! We had a pretty late night with Jackson keeping us entertained by watching him construct a home made bong with a custom bowl piece made out of a carrot!
I’m a bit of an insomniac so the next morning I was up before sunrise and could make out some vague images of spitting barrels. I woke the posse up and informed them there could be potential out there. Jackson was the first person on it jonesing for his first warm water barrel. It turns out that it was barely overhead on the sets but super peaky and hollow. I think everyone scored a sick barrel this day especially Chad! It seemed every time I glanced down the beach Jackson was pulling into a sick one. I must have seen him get a dozen barrels all that he would blast out of at the very last second!
For the next week we surfed our brains out and took advantage of the warm water and the lack of people in the line up. The mellow crowd was a big motivator to surf as much as possible. Evening sessions were a rare thing but we managed to squeeze a couple in. One evening sesh is embedded in my head, not because of the waves but a massive squall that came down when BGA, Sphincter, and myself were surfing. The bolt of lightning and the thunder blast that we endured was fucking nuts. Everybody who was watching us surf was claiming that the bolt of lightning was so close that it temporarily blinded them. The thunder was so loud and so close that I felt a burst of energy when I was in the water. Adam was freaking out. After the bolt struck, Adam and I opened our eyes and all we could see was white light. We caught the first wave in and scrambled for shelter in fear that we could have gotten deep fried. I’ve been through a lot of gnarly thunder and lightning storms but this one topped them all. The power was out for the rest of the day and everybody sat on the deck in awe watching it rain for hours straight!
We met these boogies from Mazatlan who were staying in tents on the beach: no AC, no mattress, hard core. These kids were claiming that there was a couple solid clubs in the city of Colima that are filled with Latinos who love dirty Americans! They were claiming that Friday nights go richter. The anticipation was at an all time high when Friday finally came around. The groms had been psyching us out for the last week about this Colima mission. Earlier that day everyone cruised to town and went to El Cine Grande, stocking up on snacks but more importantly tequila. The store we went to was actually owned by Wally World which made the prices proper. The whole right hand side of the booze aisle was stalked to the roof with every kind of tequila you could imagine. The finest bottle of tequila known to man was still under twenty-five dollars! Everybody invested some cash in a bottle. We caught the bus back to home base; eager to show the Mazatlan kids our purchases. We really wanted to try and keep the bottles corked till it got dark out but that just didn’t end up happening. Dark lurked on the horizon, and the second bottle of tequila was just about tapped. The Mazatlan kids didn’t want anything to do with the tequila pugging that was going down. After some major American peer pressure a couple of them stepped up and took some shots but our crew was definitely handling the bottles. The transportation factor was ridiculous, twenty people and one Suburban. The American/Mexican caravan was critical, I’m sure we were pushing the payload capabilities of the Suburban. Lucky for us that everybody was skinny and there weren’t any fatties piled up for the sake of gas mileage and the suspension on the ‘burb. I think the fact that a bottle of tequila was being passed around kept everybody amped and ready to take over wherever the fuck we were about to go. It turns out that Olympus, a double decker Latino club that was straight up popping, would be are stomping grounds for the evening. I don’t really know how to describe what happened next, I guess you could say our crew invaded the discoteque like maggots invading a rotten corpse! At this point my memory starts shutting down so I had to ask around to figure out some minor details. Sloth found some thicky that he really thought he could take down; Adam didn’t waist any time and was swallowing faces with multiple latino ladies; Sandy I believe was involved in a face swallow regardless of the high chap factor; Jackson, Kellen and myself felt obligated to take over the dance floor which looked like a giant block of ice that was lit up like a red carpet. The dance moves that were thrown down are pretty much indescribable. Jackson’s intensity was being felt through the entire club. Now don’t forget that we are rocking the three most shocking mullets in Mexico and possibly worldwide. The Mazatlan kids actually stayed clear of us, I’m pretty sure that they were blown away by our display in Olympus! After a few hours the place was going richter! I had to evacuate cuz I was too drunk to be around people. I hit the streets of Colima, not to sure where or what the fuck I was doing. I walked for a long time trying to find my way back to the club. Of course there was no way my drunk ass was going to find my way back. I realized this after hours of stomping around the streets of Colima. Fortunately I managed to stumble into a cab. It was so late that Olympus had to be shutting down so I had no choice but to tell this guy to take me back to the our hotel which was a good hour and a half away. The cabby had to shake the hell out of me to wake me up. I dug through my pockets to find some cash so I could pay the guy, struggling to understand his Spanish subtotal for the cab fair. I realized I had 100 pesos to my name, which is like 10 American dollars. I threw out a slurred and distorted “uno momento” and hit the beach sprinting the opposite way of the hotel. I thought that I lost the guy and was home free. Safe and sound back in my hotel room I passed out thinking I scored the cheapest cab ride in Mexico. The rest of the crew came barging in a few hours later and was tripping out on how I got home. In the morning I told the Mazatlan kids about the cab stiffing and they claimed that it was at least a fifty-dollar cab ride! My buddy Flaco was claiming the guy might try to hunt me down and I laughed thinking that there was no way they could have seen where I went. Later that afternoon I was in my room lying down when I heard a knock on the door. I opened the door and although I could barely remember anything from last night I recognized the cabby who was now standing at my door with a pissed off look on his face. I told him I was sorry and forked up forty bucks and hooked him up with an extra five spot for the troubles I caused him. That’s what I get for trying to stiff a Mexican taxi driver, I wouldn’t recommend trying it because they will find you!
The next morning everybody was up somewhat early considering the booze consumption was at an all time high last night. It was pretty much the same story as the last week: head high, offshore, super peaky and a non-existent crowd. I think by the end of our stay in this desolate little beach town I kind of took the waves for granted. I was hoping for some solid double overhead bombs but we never saw anything bigger than a couple feet overhead. I know once I’m back in California seeing a warm water a-frame would make me shit myself! Our two week stay was coming to an end and everybody was getting psyched for the 25 plus hour bus ride that will take us south to our second destination: Puerto Escondido!
Edgar who owns the little hotel that we stayed in was nice enough to give us a ride to the bus station where we realized that our bus came at eight at night not eight in the morning! After lurking hard at the bus station for a few hours we loaded up on a bus that was heading south to the city of Acapulco. From there we could catch a bus directly to Puerto Escondido. The bus ride rolled by a lot smoother than we thought it would. Early on we stopped to pick some people up at a station when I noticed a little pharmacia/liquor store out of the corner of my eye. I ran off the bus, which was leaving in a few minutes, and power sprinted down the street into the door of one of the most scrapper pharmacies that I’d ever seen. The lady who was running the show saw my “eager I want to spend money” look and asked me politely if she could help. “Necesito valiums,” I asked her and with no hesitation she pulled out a ten pack of ten-milly valleys. My eyes lit up like I just saw my first pair of titty’s. I bought two ten packs for a dollar a pill, which in the states is a real good deal. I gave her a “muchos gracias” and sprinted for the bus that was backing up about to leave me. Safely on the bus I walked to the back and everyone could tell I was really pumped. I passed the valiums out like candy on Halloween! The rest of the ride was a blur. Everyone received their longest, most quality night of sleep on that bus. I don’t usually promote the abuse of barbiturates, but on a bus ride or plane ride they’re mandatory.
Our crew was about to infect Puerto Escondido like a neglected vaginal sore! We had made the journey and were now safe and sound in the five star residences known as Acuario! Within a few hours I ran into Jose who is the guy to know and my favorite Oaxacan citizen. He’s hooked me up every year that I come to Puerto. I keep him stalked up on clothing and other boogie gear and he provides me with some essential goods that are mandatory to have in Puerto. Everybody was stoked to be settled in, bammered out and sipping on a cold familiar. The only thing that was out of place was the tiny baby waves that were rolling in to Zicatela. 2-3 foot on the sets! As bummed as we all were to see the baby waves we knew that small waves would give us an excuse to start hitting the booze. The price for alcohol was critical, especially with our consumption level being very high: Familiars for two bucks and a fine bottle of El Jimador for no more then ten bucks. With prices like that it should be illegal not to drink at least one bottle of tequila every night. The long term forecast was claiming the waves would be the same size for a solid week. When waves go flat and you’re in Puerto or anywhere for that matter, you’re left with little choice but to drink heavily. What happened during the next seven nights is somewhat indescribable. Each night would take me at least two pages of detailed text. Every night consisted of mass consumption of tequila, booze, bammer and chica blanca. All these substances are fuel for the fire. The tourist nasties were somewhat terrified of us, yet it didn’t change the fact that they were starving for some cock. I remember a few years ago there wasn’t any tail running around and now it’s like ladies everywhere you turn your head. Every night blended together in my head. I do remember all of us taking over the dance floor multiple times in multiple places, where we gave birth to some of the most shocking dance moves known to man! I have a distorted memory of multiple vomits; a possible pants pissing incident and a few Familiar bottles being hucked against our concrete walls. Oh and a spitting in the face incident! Other then that it’s mush in my brains!
There was some talk about a new swell that was supposed to be hitting in a couple of days. It looked like there would be size but nothing real big. In the mean time the booze and lurking would continue. The daily routine consisted of recovering from the night before, breakfast at our local restaurant Mangos, a midday training sesh followed by a Familiar which would stir up talk of the night life agenda. There are some photos of the nightlife that will give you a small sample of what happened.
There is a story popping in to my head that is too fucking weird to not share it with the public. Our buddy Big Joe introduced us to this French guy one night when we were getting hammered in our bungalow. The guy seemed chill and we offered him some pugs of tequila, which he didn’t hesitate to take. The Frenchman was getting really tipsy so we offered him some chica blanca to calm him down. The Frenchy disappeared before we hit the nightlife. Two days later while we were grubbing at a little restaurant on the beach, the Frenchman saw us eating and came over to post up at our table. He claimed that he was hungover for two days after we forced tequila down his throat. He started asking us about the waves up in Cali and then out of nowhere the subject took a radical change. Old Frenchy was asking us if we had ever heard of the term “gangbang”. With his dirty French accent it sounded like “gongbong”. It didn’t stop with the gangbang. He went off about how he would tag team girls with his dirty French fellows. We asked him if he straps up when he jumps on these sexual choo-choo trains and he replied casually by telling us that VD’s have only been around for “a couple years”. He also described something that he referred to as “hot piss” which apparently he had and was quite proud of it. At this time Adam started chocking on his pasta, and I got a sick feeling in my stomach that ruined my appetite. Everybody was blown away by the Frenchman’s dinner conversation. We later discovered that the Frenchman had knocked up some Mexican local and was planning on skipping the country without telling the chick!
I was still in shock over the fact that there were so many nasties running around. There were no confirmed takedowns, a lot of face swallowing but no real penetration! I think scoring with a chick down in Mexico is really rolling the dice. Every other chick I saw had some sort of sore or abrasion on her lip! When you’re all fucked up and it’s dark out it’s hard to even see one of these chanks! The real question is where the fuck are the barrels at? I talked to some of the locals who claimed this was one of the longest flat spells that they’d seen in years. The crew started running low on funds because of our excessive intake of everything! The bartering and trading started to go into full effect! I sold so much shit, from my bodyboard to my underwear! That’s the good thing about Mexico is that things are harder to get there, especially shit from the USA, so slanging your shit is always an option.
Three more days in Puerto and I hadn’t seen a wave that was bigger than four foot. I woke up at dark the morning that the swell was supposed to hit! It had definitely picked up but the sandbars seemed to be fucked up. Usually Zicatela’s sandbars are groomed and split the swells into multiple peeks that explode over hundreds of yards of beach. This morning it seemed like the swell was walling up. Although I saw a couple good ones it seemed like the large percentage was closing out. A couple of hours went by and the offshores started to pick up and the barrels started to get round. El Jefe and myself grabbed our gear and lurked down to the crowded beach. I watched it while I stretched for about thirty minutes and noticed a heavy crowd mostly populated by aggressive Brazilian surfers who seemed to be jocking for every fucking wave. I noticed that there were some empty closeouts coming through which is good because when it comes down to it all you need is to see the view. I paddled out and joined the intense crowd, which seemed to resemble a minor to moderate North Shore crowd. A couple of mid-size sets rolled through which had a solid six guys scratching there very hardest to get a wave. I saw a solid set on the horizon and paddled for a right-hander I saw coming in. Everyone was a little too deep for this one including myself but I knew this wave was going to barrel top to bottom! I turned around at the last second and got eaten alive by this right-hander. I took a quality beating and then took two more when the next two waves barreled directly on top of me. I must say taking a good beating like that felt so good. Puerto is supposed to serve beatings like that regularly but I hadn’t felt one the whole trip, and it felt so fucking good! I surfed all day which was what I needed so bad after such a long day. I saw Jackson get some stand up freight train barrels. It doesn’t matter if its big or small Jackson will own it!
The swell had already started dropping by the mid afternoon so we knew that was it as far as big tubes. I was flying out solo the next day so I put in a good six hours in the water knowing that I would be staring at California crap for months straight. I was stoked it picked up and could only imagine what could and would have happened if we kept boozing it due to the lack of swell. I talked to the crew when I got back and they were claiming that the evening sesh the day I left was pretty fucking sick. Nothing super big but overhead, peaky, and super rampy. I was stoked they scored but bitter due to the fact I was on the plane while the crew was getting tubed!
A month in mainland seems like a long time to most tourists, but for a bodyboarder or surfer who is forced to slide into a freezing wetsuit before every sesh a month is a good warm up period to prepare you for the months ahead. With property still costing as much as most new cars in the USA it’s a wonder that more outsiders haven’t been capitalizing on the beautiful coastal regions of Mexico. For someone residing in the USA, Mexico is your best bet to a cheap action packed mission. Whether it’s filthy TJ, Rosarito, Ensenada, or the calm waters inside Baja. All the way down to beautiful mainland Mexico has something to offer for almost anybody regardless if you even touch the ocean water. Our crew milked Mexico for everything they could get. The first time traveler Sandy Sphincter claimed that his life had been changed and when I heard that whether he was talking about for good or bad I was pumped to hear those words! I was also really pumped that everyone made it home alive, disease free, ECT. This is a trip that will be in my head until the day I die and I’m sure the rest of the crew could say the same. The pictures and FG’s will give you a small fix of our Mexico excursion. Sorry about this bullshit excuse for a story that took me entirely too long and check out our Mexico section in the upcoming Rookies video. ADIOS!
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Journal Entries
July 13 – Kellen
Waves have been real fun, at least head high everyday. We have 6 people and 3 mullets. A couple heavy nights of boozing, and the build up of tonight’s buzz on session has been just as gruelling as the arrival of the new gay ass iphone. We have like 8 Mexican friends going, 2 Americans, Edgar, El Jefe, and ourselves. ICE (editor’s note: ICE was an all-time club in Manzanillo with $10 all-you-can drink mayhem and the hottest isolated gene pool I have ever witnessed. RIP.) got shut down due to a drug bust but we’re going somewhere similar in Colima – 10 buck cover charge and you got an open bar. The trip has been taken over by everyone trying to attempt their most extreme Jeremy Wright impersonation as disgusting and as often as possible, you can only imagine that mixed with buzz on. We’re doing a lot of filming and shooting definitetly getting the job done there. I think our time in Colima is coming to an end and our journey towards Puerto begins tomorrow with a 25 hour bus ride.
July 14 – James
Waves have been pretty epic, Little Aadam has been ripping. He will have a full section after this trip. Our mission to the club last night was next level, words cannot describe it!!!!!!!!!!!!! We leave for Puerto early tomorrow morning. I’ll email you when I get settled in Puerto. Jackson’s presence is being felt to the next level and he’s been ripping this wave to shreds!
July 21 – James
What else can be said besides the Pismo virus has spread faster than a god damn California wild fire. The typical westerner`s stereotype of Mexico is full of crime, drugs and poverty, but for a pack of traveling wave riders it’s a true paradise. The Rookies crew is now rolling seven deep, consisting of Sloth, Killer, Cale, BGA, Sphincter and myself and most importantly “El Jefe”, Chad Jackson. We endured a 30 hour bus ride down the coast of Mexico. Our presence is being felt in Puerto with Zach falling in love with a hot Canadian chick. Kellen has been in an alcoholic haze the entire trip. BGA is macking more Euro Trash than Bono from U2. Upon Cale’s first night he yacked his brains out, giving us a doormat consisting of mezcal and cerveza. I have acquired the nickname ‘the Dance’ due to some tequilaed-out life changing dance moves. Sphincter has been lubing his lips up with more chap stick than even a Carmex factory could produce. And Chad Jackson (el jefe) is constantly keeping the fire fueled. Waves have been shockingly small with not one day being overhead out at Zicatela, but hopes are high for a new groundswell. With Puerto’s growth it’s only a matter of time before the party scene will be pushing that of Puerto Vallarta. Hopefully this swell hits cuz the Rookies crew is spending their life savings on booze and their livers are gaining more and more spots. Stay tuned for the continuing saga of Mexico.
July 23 – Adam
Pushing 3 weeks in Co now, these past 10 days with no swell have thrown us on a chica blanca tequila dancing bender. Clockwork Mexican nights have turned our usual surf session daze into purple haze with wheel barrel antics, nude sessions and even a 360 ass rotation by Kellen. Flooding ET’s digital cameras has been our new attraction in Puerto. Swell is finally on the rise and party mode is dwindling down for the next couple marathon sessions we all are fiending.
Murdock supplied all the dirt on Mex for us. From god-awful mudflap creations to French “gongbongs” to 24 hour barbiturate bus rides, you’re in for a treat with this mini-novel. Willie’s still frolicking in coffee country; babysitting red light district illegitimates, hunting for waves off the beaten path, and spreading the gospel of the mini-shaka to both believers and naysayers alike. Lastly, Alex sent us what may have been his final transmission from the land of Indo before a 7.5 would shake Jakarta. At least we know that the ASA will still live on.
