"War parties fell into line on either side, dredging up old grudges under the banners of a new conflagration. At one point a jungle sicario was even mentioned."
You been to Costa Rica before? It is to the US as Bali is to Australia. A tropical getaway close to home.
Comfortable. Non threatening. A modern-day ctrl alt dlt for $499 return.
It’s a beautiful place. Tacos and dime bags and warm water. Consistent, user-friendly waves. A culture going back thousands of years (the Guanacaste tribes predated even the Maya). Old jungle.
I worked there for a couple seasons as a surf instructor. My secret shame. Pushing god knows how many VALs into their first waves. VALs that should now, by my calculation, be paddling in front of you on their 7S fishes, and, in some cases, for the more advanced, Hypto Kryptos, in the fight for two-foot closeouts at your local.
VALs that are penning op-eds on The Inertia about how surfing needs to become more inclusive and democratic.
But I jest.
I met many lovely people. Made friends for life from all over the world etc.
Surfing is massive for the country. The town I lived in was essentially built around the first surf school, circa twenty, twenty-five years previous. It’s now a thriving wellness centre with dozens of high-end surf and yoga retreats, holidaying A-List Hollywooders and supermarkets selling expensive cheeses.
The Ticos are a well adjusted, friendly people. Progressive. No standing military since the forties, despite having the fight-loving Nicaraguans on their northern border. Powered by 98% renewables. Per capita one of the happiest places in the world.
But, like any developing country with a reliance on western tourism, there’s an undercurrent of antipathy towards gringos. Especially ones like me that move there and take jobs. Me and the Mrs was robbed twice in one three-month stretch.
Home invasions, everything gone. Perpetrated by the same little crew. We knew who they were. They knew we knew. Things got pretty heavy. War parties fell into line on either side, dredging up old grudges under the banners of a new conflagration. At one point a jungle sicario was even mentioned. Can you imagine it!
In the end, we decided to split. It wasn’t our turf. We got the message. A lesson for me on staying in your own lane. Plus I’m a massive, massive fucking wuss.
But, I digress.
Costa Rica loves surfing so much that they’ve gone and made a National Day for Surfing, in recognition of its value to the country.
Well, ain’t that swell? Will we ever see one in Aus, US, NZ, EU?
What would you do on your National Day of Surfing?
Would you celebrate it in the water with all your new VAL friends? Or would Australians, say, marinate at home with a Skegss album, a favourite piece of quit-lit, braiding beards and wondering where it all went wrong?
And, tell me, what’s your best run in with the locals story?
When I lived in Costa Rica a bit more than 20 years ago, some of the gringos who were a bit less adept at keeping their mouths shut, slept with guns under their pillows. It was the Wild West. Literally shootouts in the street but oh how times have changed. That same town now sells empty lots for US$600k.
Could have made a fortune investing down there but couldn’t get myself to be complicit in the explosion that was just beginning.
Johnny boy at ala Moana. Perfect 6’ day 1992 John caught a smoker then some other guy was next. 3rd wave straight to me I was stroking in but this boogie board local kid was paddling for it intent on burning me. I yelled that I had it kind of aggressively. Alika moepono ( juniors brother ) was 30 yards inside the boogie and I guess Johnny , who was now 60 yards further in, thought I was telling at alika ( which I would never do).
The boogie backed out and I got a throttling tube ride full glory. As I came out John was screaming and I thought he was stoked for me. Wrong.
As I got back outside he’s still yelling and I heard the words fucking haole and knew it was on.
I get to the pack and John goes “ hey brah you see diamond head ovah deah?” and I’m like uh… yeah. He goes” keep fucking paddling till you get deah fuckah!!”
The guy had eaten lunch at my house on the north shore 2 years earlier ( mutual friends ) but obvi didn’t remember me.
So I decided to go surf Kaiser’s. Halfway there I caught a rare flawless left tube at rock pile right in front of the entire ala mo pack including John.
Bonus!
Junior Moepono!
Did not surf growing up, got stationed in Hawaii in 1989 so took it up. Went right out to Ala Moana dropped in behind JBG as he did a huge roundhouse cutback and almost smashed me, he was so fucking mad but didn’t pound me I think because I was much bigger than him thank god.
Having to deal with gringo-cum-self acclaimed locals is probably the worst part of surfing abroad.
Ya got dudes like Mateo in playa colorados, who will yell you off a wave with a condescending ‘locals-only’.
My national day of surfing usually falls on grand final day if the waves cooperate.
Had my best day at an empty Bower back in the 90’s.
Down here in Vic, people usually try to get it in the morning of the GF, afternoon is when people like me hop in. Waves permitting.
I’m looking forward to this weekend when everyone’s going to be watching rugby
All these stories are just heart warming. V anti depressive
Imagine you have been surfing an area in a rather remote location for over 20 years…..you pull up on the boat at a spot you have never surfed before but have surfed all around it. Its 3-4ft and pumping. Heaven. You know there has been some building going on since you were last there a few months previously and can see the development taking shape. So you then head into shore and say hello and do the niceties. Its all good. One of the blokes gives me some good knowledge about a few other spots – what tides etc Its all good. We head back out and have this incredible lineup to ourselves. 150-200m peeling right handers. Heaven. 2 of the crew decide to head over and surf the A-Frame on the other side of the bay. Leaving 3 of us in the water. They come back an hour later and paddle back out. I am knackered and in need of some food. I head back to the boat for some kai. Whilst consuming the feast I see some weird disturbance on the hillside. I grab my video camera with the epic zoom capabilities and zoom into see whats happening. And then BANG – we get shot at. Not once – several times. Scary as all fuck. I managed to get a screen grab as we bumped up and down. The crew gather back on the boat to assess things. Then a boat comes flying out at us and tells us to F*CK OFF and never come back. We tread back carefully. Its a long trip back to base into the wind with lots of questions. Over the next few days we find out what happened – the American owners had learned of us being there and had got very protective – from afar. The same folks who had been so nice and helpful and welcoming just a few hours earlier were now the hired local mafia to run us out of the place. The next frame grab I have is of the gun being aimed directly at me. I don’t share that one. It was heavy.
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so the american was a surfer? or just a land owner?
So called surfer – but his real business is property development at the expense of other surfers enjoyment. He brought the land from another North American
dick
24 carrot f-wit if the truth be told
I see Derek, Chas, LT, Jen in the hoodie… but can’t name the fifth shooter
It must be Surf Ads – he is on the right of the pic – observing
I observe from the left
Sure that’s Chas? Doesn’t look Like there’s enough holes or a plunging v-neck on the shirt.
you forgot the weed
The little village where I lived ,in France ,was way more Wild West in 1992 when I first arrived . My mate from Australia had been there since 87 and became the local surf instructor , paid by the local sporting and cultural association which received subventions from the government . It seemed like a dream job , which it was at the time , one Dutch girl even asked politely if it was okay if she took the lesson Nude much to my mate’s joy , so not everyone was pleased about the decision to employ a foreigner , which lead to my mate and our 90kg French Mate ( the Sheriff , a former marine in the French Navy) going toe to toe in the local bar during the middle of the day ( I have since seen similar scenes in Mundacca between two fisherman )before the sheriff picked up my mate and they both went through a plate glass window , ending up in the carpark , hugging it out in tears and have remained like blood brothers for life ……. 5 years later I was invited to go on a traditional rabbit hunt …. but that is another story .
A run in with the locals story? Ok, here’s one, South Aussie desert style, circa 1970s. When I was a smoker, a joint or a couple of cones was standard modus operandi when partaking in the pleasures of herbal self-medication. I’d never seen or heard of a chillum, until I lived at Cactus. One day I was sitting on the side of the dirt road hitching into town. A familiar looking old Holden roared past on its way to check the surf. I knew the waves were crap so I expected the same car to arrive back shortly. Sure enough the said vehicle was soon approaching me again on its way back to Penong. Surely the occupants recognized me as the new grommet working for Paul Witzig, the legendary surf film maker who owned the camping area at the beach, the guy who was trying to clean the place up by building a few outdoor toilets and wire fences for bush walkways, which I was helping him with. So I was quietly confident these older locals would stop and offer me a ride into town. But the vehicle didn’t slow down at all. Instead, it accelerated even more then veered straight at me. Worse, as it flew past just inches away, a rifle barrel suddenly protruded menacingly from the passenger window and aimed directly at my face. My survival instincts immediately kicked in. I responded to the threat by doing an awkward backwards roll into the ditch behind me. The car then braked hard in a cloud of dust and suddenly reversed at full speed back towards me. I stood up, dusted myself down and nervously awaited my fate. After all, these were the same blokes who hated Witzig and how he was trying to develop a camping area there. Witzig believed these guys in the car were part of the local gang responsible for pulling down the fences and toilets we’d just built. So…the rear passenger door opened and, much to my relief, the three occupants were all roaring with laughter. They weren’t checking the surf at all. They’d been cruising through the camping area trying to score something to smoke, without success. Now it was my turn to surprise them. I had a block of hash on me and, in an effort to forge new friendships, was happy to offer it to one and all. They were of course stoked with this. Mad Marty quickly produced a strange little pipe the likes of which I’d never seen before. “What’s that?,” I said.
“A chillum, it’s like a V8. Chews up the fuel but gets you there quick,” he said laughing. Next he showed me how to place the neck of the pipe between my index finger and thumb and lay it on the palm of my other hand to get a good seal. Then boom-shanka, matches were struck and I was going hard at it busting my first chillum. Moral of the story – angry locals can become friends for life. Cheers.
For those not familiar with Wayne Murphy or is it [sean murphy?] he is/was a surf reporter with channel 10, a journalist with a weekly surf column and i am surprised we didnt bump into him staying at cactus in 1978. We set up tent in a hollow closer to Castles soon after we had read in Tracks mag about the gun toting madmen protecting Caves. We could see Caves breaking well but would not risk having our EK Holden burnt to the ground, just to surf those famed rights.
Hi Ralph, Sean Murphy the TV journalist is my brother. He works for ABC Landline these days. And yes, I lived at Cactus on and off for a few years mid 70s through to mid 80s. I didn’t burn any cars, but I know some crew who did. I still visit that magical desert coast whenever I am back in Oz these days. Great to to catch up with my old friends and see their kids who live and surf there now, and help keep the place real. Peace and Cheers.
aah yes, the infamous irish Murphy bros.
most of the stories here relate to localism, and no one in Oz does localism like the South Australian desert dwellers. The Cactus cowboys were possibly a bit too extreme with their use of firearms to make a point but it certainly keeps visitors on their best behaviour.
They dont take kindly to pro surfers with photographers in tow, and even today that section of wildcoast down to Port Lincoln has remained mostly unexposed. The roaming sea life is also a good deterrent.
Good memories of great waves, flies, scorpions, mice, seals and big fish.
Good man yourself Ralph, nice words. Funny thing too, about those fierce locals not taking kindly to pro surfers, photographers etc, is that when I was living there on and off years ago, I was actually working as a pro surfing judge. I’d always head back to Cactus for another stint after judging some big comps. There was something so unique and irresistible about surfing there. Living on the edge in basic beach shacks among the raw elements made it so vibrant and real compared to other places. Thankfully the hard core Cactus accepted me for my errant ways as a pro surfing enthusiast and allowed me life membership there to join them in the fellowship of desert dwelling and bush football with all the pros and cons you mention. Great memories indeed. Thanks for the reminder. Cheers.
Self indulgent old fuckers we are! I dont think we did ever cross paths but im sure you knew Perry Hatchet well, you may have even over/underscored me in the ’96 aussie masters at flat rock! No, i lost to a fucken Tasmanian! I used to surf against McCauliffe, Steve Williams etc.
That’s funny. Hope you are still staying salty Ralph. Cheers.
Always Wayne, still on a shorty with volume of course. Found my super 8 movie film of cactus and caves from 1978, you probably know some of the guys surfing big caves, i will try and put it on youtube and post a link one day.
I was once working undercover trying to bust a gang of bank robbers. I thought they might be surfers so I got myself a longboard and that’s when I learnt to surf. You know, hanging out in the lineup in case anyone had loose lips. Well this is where it gets pretty hard core. As I was about to try to stand up on a waist-high burger I hear “Stay off my wave” as a muscular local surfs right past me. Oops! Then him and his buddies picked a fight with me as I was rinsing off under the showers. I’m a trained fighter so I could hold them off until a really cool dude (I think his name was “Booty” or something, can’t really remember even though we had some crazy adventures afterwards that tested the boundaries of my mind and body) came to bail me out. Heavy shit!
Back off, Warchild, he’s with me.
shit! someone should make a movie about that……crazy stuff!
They could call it “Beach Break” or something, especially if they had surfing sequences with lefts and rights in the same session.
Or left and rights on the same wave ,at night , when the right becomes a left and then a right and then a left again just before the bloke sharing this extraordinary wave , surfing like Matt Archibald but looking like Swayze turns around and gives you the thumbs up …… Even better in French when Angelo picks up the wax and uses the verb farter ( to wax skis ) ……
That would be a waste of time
Got hustled out he water at an average point in CR. Mince and cheese hair and biue eyes probably did it. Had been out for 15mins chilling on the shoulder watching, snuck in to a wobbly sub set. I think the van with 10 foamies on top that turned up by 9am, owned by an overseas hostel chain turned em savage.
Took me an hour to drive 16km on the fucked roads in my little rental car (rented for the day for fuckin 50USD) to get to the point too. Argued with the Misso 50% of the way and she didnt even want to surf. Fuckin “surf travel”
Well it ain’t Costa Rica, but last night in Costa Mesa I tried to give a homeless guy a beer, but he put it back down in front of me and asked if I had any meth.
I suppose you could have offered him a bottle of ( methylated ) Spirits ?
How about a National Day for Not Surfing?
A day we can all raise awareness to the essential role non-surfers play in our society, and to encourage more to follow in their foot steps
I stand behind this wholeheartedly, how quickly can we roll it out on the Gold Coast do you think?
The official launch is to be held at Snapper with live feeds to events at Noosa, Burleigh and Longtom’s neck of the woods
I suggest tax breaks for surfers to move to the gold coast. Clean a couple hungy out from where I live
I once went to Local Motion in Ala Moana shopping center, in the mid 90’s, and they had a sweet sale on t-shirts and shit, and I also got a pair of flippity-floppys (thongs, zoris, slippahs) which had artifical grass on the inside.
But HIC had better shirts.
And that is my story of locals.
Thank you.
Heavy. Glad you’re ok
I’ve heard Ala Moana gets gnarly but this is next level.
After a dozen trips to Hawaii by far my heaviest experience there was visiting Ala Moana. There’s more stores there than there are people in my hometown.
…Mine was paddling out to the main peak at Pakala on the island of Kauai on a bright yellow, SoCal designed swallow tail. Long blond hair and blue eyes. Made some new “friends” that day let me tell you.
That is the most controversial Hawaiian Article I’ve read since “ BUSTING DOWN THE DOOR “ …..
Did you come to Oz as a political refugee after hiding out in Scotland ?
I think I am still dealing with the t-shirts, man.
Stay chilled …..in Town and Country .
you just made me remember that i was in that shop when they anounced on the radio that Kurt Cobain had killed himself.
Goosebumps / chickenskin (take your pick) just thinking about it. What could have happened if you had bought the wrong size? I need to live more…
Heading to Cabo for a week, maybe I will try my luck at the local t-shirt stand or at the Cabo Wabo gift shop.
How good were those fake grass thongs!
I dont understand
Neither.
Once I followed a guy to a nearby beach
He went for a surf.
I repo his car.
His mates in the Carpark laughed.
my buddy was repoing last year. the stories were pretty funny, for the most part.. lots of people actually came out and gave him the keys.. poor bastards
Yep
90 percent pay up or key up.
I’ve had a few hairy moments with bikies and crims but not too bad considering.
I just used to like finding them.
You know, like a fake detective
had a buddy back in the 80’s living in SFran, he was bored as hell, looked in a classified, got a job with an old fat guy as a Private eye, literally followed married ladies around and took photos… the stories were hilarious if i remember back in the day.. just cause he wanted something else to do. wtf???
I love Nicaragua. It is my heaven. Costa Rica is OK. I recall one night at Sharky’s I tried to buy some googs off a local kid but he only had ketamine, acid and some speedy looking coke. Disappointed, I politely declined his kind offer. However to my delight, 20 minutes later the helpful young man reappeared with some funny looking caps. I doubted he had managed to cook up MD in the meantime and suspected he had just mixed the speedy coke and keta in some caps. Fair enough. I took 5. I think he may have sprinkled some torn up sheets in the cap as well cos less than a hour later I was fucken sideways and felt like I was walking on a boat. Some fat mess of a chick held me up as I sang karaoke and my field of vision was reduced to a small technicolor prism. I was fucked. Fucked the fatty too. It was pretty shit watching her gut squelch up like a deflated soccer ball with every bounce. Don’t think I could cum. Can’t really recall. Anyway. Highly recommend that little cocktail.
The fatty always wins here.
I suspect I was raped but can’t really complain hey. I was asking for it.
My ketamine story is a bit sketchier. After doing blow and drinking Chile guaro shots all day, a tattooed gringo my buddy knew said he had better coke. We did it to no end he finally pulled out a dab rig stick that he called “the murder weapon”that we did coke & k off of. Somewhere along the lines homie dosed us with acid. Really really strong acid. After rolling around on a black sand beach for 6 hours I ended up back in my cabina. Cops had picked up the gringo for connection to two murders one in Miami one in jaco.
Hahaha fuck that’s classic. I dunno how those guys manage to go out and have a good night after they have committed a couple of casual homicides. I reckon I’d be pretty fucken paranoid about getting stung for it. Different breed mate. Good on em I guess.
I’ve got a million crazier stories about this place. Last week my apartment was squatted out by a bunch of Nicaraguans, went from a ding repair op to a duck farm. It’s home for me regardless.
Get surfaids to interview ya. Give us something decent to read about.
Yeah San Juan was a crazy town! I spent a couple weeks staying with a friend there who had a house up behind the old church/locals only zone, she gave me a switch blade to carry for late night walks home. But she was dating the town connect from the Caribbean side at the time so I’d just drop his name if things got dicey.
I could probably give you some pretty decent shit on my laptop. I’ve had to emit some stuff due to trying to type on a phone with a broken screen. Also surfads, dime bags? There is ungodly good weed here.
Yikes. I stuck to locally sourced, single batch.
acid always makes the best stories.
it amplifies everything
that night they picked up the gringos.. ?? Strangers and Coke.. always ends up with a close call from something or a bad ending.. makes my stomach turn thinking about those years. No mas
Hi Balls!
That’s hilarious!
Fully out-there, like past Pluto.
I am pretty sure you and I are living parallel lives. I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with overweight beach moots. They seem to have radar for fucked up traveling surfers. My entire wardrobe on a trip south once smelled of onions and regrets thanks to a keen fat beach moot tracking me down when I was on eccys. I am not a proud man…..
I spent six months there and never got robbed or had one bad experience.
Though I know alot of gringos who did.
I just rolled them alot of doobies.
my best run in with the locals from CR is smoking a spliff with them under a tree on the beach and then going out and surfing perfect play negra with just us and them smiling and calling me in to waves.
Costa Rica was awesome 25 yeras ago but I have no idea how it is now.
You Dick!!
ok got that out.
They should run everyone out of those towns, a la Mexico right points….
Can’t think of a “run” in, but when they show up at my international “local”, I get out.. let them all have it for the weekend, I hit the beach, its their point, not mine.