Worth possibly losing your boards to visit. Always. Photo: Kelleher
As a surfer, is there anything worse than arriving at a surf destination without all your gear? It’s happened to all of us – whether the airlines lost your board bag or you forgot to throw your favorite set of fins into your carry-on. There is always this uneasy feeling when you’re in a foreign country missing key surf items. Your stomach turns to knots, your mind starts racing with thoughts of, “Oh shit, how am I going to surf without a board?” This was the feeling I had after a very long drive into Mexico, as I jumped out of the car to unstrap my board bag and realized it was MIA…
It was late. 2:30 AM. Pitch black with only stars illuminating the horror story that had occurred during the twelve-hour car ride down the Baja peninsula. My board bag, full of surfboards, had fallen off the roof-rack on our journey. The crew I was traveling with was dead tired and ready to sleep, but we decided instead to unload our gear and drive back an hour on the beat-up, rugged, dirt road on which we arrived in hopes of finding my boards. We searched everywhere. We found the tie-downs alongside the road, but no evidence of my bag or the essentials it held inside. The only thing I could do now was hold onto a longshot hope that I might spot the boards on the way back to the US. So we called off the search. We turned around, got back to camp at 4 AM, set up our tents beachside, and passed out after a couple of extra-strong margaritas.
The next morning, I unzipped the tent door to face a perfect lineup. An 8-10 foot swell filled in overnight, accompanied by howling offshore winds and not a person in sight. I sat there in awe, watching freight-train tubes rifle down the right-handed point, spitting and puffing multiple times per wave. Our secret spot in the middle of Mexico prevailed for us again. We call it the J-Bay of Mexico for a reason, and that reason was right in front of our eyes. But, I had no boards! I rallied the troops and begged the crew for one of their back-ups. We paddled out in no time and started trading waves. The boys were ripping. Linking big backhand carves with gauging snaps, and long barrels in the mix as well. We were scoring on another level, and the thought of losing an entire bag full of boards didn’t seem too bad anymore. The good times rolled for the rest of the week until the swell faded. It was time to go home.
On the road back, everyone kept their eyes open for the board bag. I held a slight hope. The secret spot is in the middle of nowhere, and not many travel the dirt road leading there. There was a slim chance that the board bag could still be sitting there in the middle of the desolate road. After two long hours of keeping a lookout—no luck at all. We made it to the main paved highway and started heading north. That was that! My boards, gone for good! It was a lost cause and I knew it.
A few days later, I got an unexpected voicemail from my shaper, DT, “Hey, uhh, did you lose a board bag in Mexico recently? Give me a call.” My first thoughts were, “how the hell does DT know I lost a bag down there?” So, I called him. He said he received an email from someone who found a bag in Mexico with DT boards in it, and tracked him down as the shaper. DT recognized those as my boards when he saw my initials “CK” printed on the foam from when he had shaped the boards. Amazingly, the surfer who found my boards drove over 450 miles back to the US, found my shaper, who in turn found me, all to return my lost boards! I got his number and met up with him to pick up my boards. As a small token of my gratitude, I brought him a new leash, 10 bars of wax, and a 6-pack of good beer, and in return, I got my boardbag full of surfboards I never thought I would see again.
This guy could have easily taken the boards and rode them. He could have had a brand new quiver that most people would have been stoked on. But instead, he drove twelve hours back to the US with my boards in tow, and then took time to find and contact my shaper, all in hopes of returning my boards. He put in so much time and effort to make things right when he easily could have sat back and enjoyed his find. One thing is for sure, good karma is headed his way. In a world of hate, political differences, and crime, there are still good people out there doing the right things – and those people are surfers.
Faith in humanity totally restored. Photo: Kelleher
