While the rest of my friends and classmates were packing up for the three day, booze-filled typhoon of Spring Break in Cabo San Lucas, I was also packing. But I was packing for a much different kind of trip. While sunshine, tanned bikini-clad girls and copious amounts of cheap booze is any college male’s dream, a much more worthwhile experience was calling my name.
After a 12-hour flight, I touched down in Panama City. The Customs officer on the ground was not thrilled with my Spanglish, but after a bit of a hassle, I stepped outside the terminal and had my first taste of muggy tropical air and busy foreign traffic. Hailing a cab to my next airport, I met up with my friend and classmate Taig. A cup of espresso and a beef empanada from the local café later, we were in the air over the Caribbean headed to the Bocas Del Toro island chain.
The rest of our group was comprised of two California boys, a Brazilian, a Costa Rican, and a professional downhill biker who grew up in Hawaii. We all go to the same college and many of us are in the same fraternity. The rest of the posse showed up the next day, and we quickly loaded up the boat with our boards and cameras and had just enough time for a sunset session at a little reef peak between the tip of two islands. We were all stoked out of our boardshorts to be trading clear, warm waves with the boys while the Caribbean sunset. No one cared that the waves were three feet and mushy, we couldn’t have been happier.
The rest of the two weeks flew by. We stuck to a pretty rigorous schedule: wake up at 6am, gulp down a bowl of rice and a PB&J, load up the boat, and cruise around the islands looking for a break that was firing. There are always waves in Bocas Del Toro. In the morning, some spots would be on, and then in the evening other breaks would line up. At about 1pm we’d come back to our house for a few beers and some curry chicken from a local restaurant. After grub time it was either time to take a nap in a hammock on the top of our two-story dock, or we’d go exploring the vibrant markets and parks of the small town. In the evening we’d again load up the boat with our gear and surf until the sun was down and we could barely find where our boat was floating. After a local dinner we’d all put down a couple local beers and jump off the dock a few times before going to bed, waking up, and doing it all over again. Life was rough.
There were two different waves that I will never forget. The first was a fast, bowly left called Dumps, aptly named for the dump that used to sit in front of it. We thought it was called Dumps because we were absolutely SH*TTING ourselves the whole time. After watching one set from the boat, we couldn’t believe it. That wave was mental! THIS was paradise. After a steep, fast drop over a reef as the wave stacked, a quick stall would put you in a blue-green barrel that would spit you out onto a shoulder for one last cutback. The other wave was a different, but equally challenging wave called Bluff, which was a fast, heavy, powerful beach break that detonated in about two feet of water. At Bluff, swell would come out of the open ocean and slam up against a steep beach. This made for thick, fast spitters and intense, sandy thrashings. At least at Bluff you didn’t have to worry about being washed over a fire coral reef. Regardless, we had a blast daring each other to go on waves we normally wouldn’t catch.
My travels to Bocas Del Toro made me appreciate what a difference great traveling partners can make. The great vibes never stopped the entire trip. Everyone was on the same page and equally as stoked. It was also refreshing to travel off the beaten path to a small island chain that I never knew existed, instead of some popular tourist destination. Sure it was no college Cabo San Lucas party trip, but the waves were firing and the beer went down easy in our blue and green tropical paradise. To me, that sounds like a pretty kick-ass Spring Break.
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