Is this real life or just a fantasy?
I am paddling for a wave that rolls in straight from dreams, rarely from life. Green, a-framed, groomed by gentle offshore breezes and by a-framed I mean truly teepee’d plus barreling. Spitting. Like a mini Pipeline/Backdoor if Off the Wall went to hell, Backdoor wasn’t a glorified closeout and the bottom was sand instead of death.
It is mostly empty save my wife, a lime wedge throw away, addicted to the left she rode yesterday and my best friend Josh, a lime wedge throw the opposite direction, picking off the ones that run wide. All on crisp, new, perfectly tailored Album surfboards.
Everyone.
If we had one more surfer in the water, one more family on this surf trip, we could be running overlapping heats. We should be running overlapping heats with a dream commentary team to match the dream waves. Vaughn Blakey in the booth. Todd Kline on the beach.
The greatest to ever do it. The one who, for a gleaming second, showed the world what professional surfing could be, might be, should be, standing there with Bobby Martinez as Santa Barbara’s greatest to ever do it, smirking, while Bobby called professional surfing “this dumb fucking wannabe tennis tour.”
Brilliant.
Prophetic.
A phrase that will someday be graffitied on the rubble of Santa Monica’s Wall of Positive Noise once we crumble it like those brave East Germans crumbled theirs.
Josh arrived at Rancho Santana at sunset last evening after an even more grueling haul than mine. Carrying two children under the age of five and a Ndijilian/Parisian/Helsinkian fashion designer wife that suffers no hiccups. No red-eyes. No transfers, bad domestics or cocktails mixed from plastic bottles.
He flew his family from LAX at midnight, even a touch after, connected through Houston before doubling down by re-connecting through Miami before arriving in Managua and driving the three plus hours to Rancho Santana.
He was also stopped by two separate policemen on the way who tried to pull his sleeping wife and children out of the car in order to pat them all down.
All it took for his wife to forgive that ordeal and accept the family surf trip as not only workable but divine was a trip to the spa, hovering above the jungle canopy, above the organic farm, all dark tropical hardwood and world-class masseuses.
And now? I’m surf gorged, mojito gorged, wives are happy, children are happy, everyone is somehow dreamily happy.
The only problem?
No Todd Kline.
My wife, Josh and I surf for an hour or more before retreating to our sunbathing, book reading, swimming, happy counterparts at one of the multiple pools and…wait. Who is that in the far cabana tucking a Red Bull branded Mayhem under the chaise lounge in order to prevent wax melt?
Could it be?
Todd Kline?
I honestly can’t believe my eyes and saunter straight up after ordering a mojito with freshly picked/muddled mint etc.
“Todd?”
He smiles.
“What are you doing here?”
“The family and I love Rancho Santana.” He responds. “I’m here with my wife and the grom. It’s the poor man’s Tavarua. I was surfing the wedge this morning after ordering breakfast, saw the server come out with the tray and was at my table before she set it down. It’s epic.”
I walk back to my cabana shaking my head. I thought I could break the notion of a workable family surf trip by inviting another family along. Not only did it not break, Todd Kline and his family have now been conjured out of thin air.
The poor man’s Tavarua. And to think, for one second, that thou of little faith J.P. Currie thought I wasn’t The People™.
To think a Scotsman doubted this modern incantation of William Wallace for one second.
But maybe I didn’t push hard enough?
Maybe I’m doing something wrong?
We still don’t have enough people to run overlapping heats.
More as the story develops.
As if this site needed more advertisement…….
I lived in Nicaragua in 1986-87. Mostly doing “barefoot doctoring” because Contras and U.S. troops had cut folks off from basic medical care. Simple antibiotics, hydration, and a few sutures saved lives. As for U.S. troops being in country, the Reagan administration denied it. However, those troops later sued the government for the combat pay they were supposed to receive (but didn’t because they weren’t there!). They won that suit. In short, I know what I’m talking about –more than you’ll ever know. P.S. I came up as a surfer in Santa Cruz in the 1970s and early 1980s –when hard-core assholes ruled the roost. So don’t expect me to take any stupid shit from you. If you wanna surf somewhere where you need concertina wire to keep the local folks away, don’t expect me to applaud.
United Fruit Company, CIA etc. Do your homework kid
plus it is loaded with Florida Man
Nice advertortial.
I surf the wedge at Rancho every now and then…it’s a clusterfudge of locals with yellowed broken nosed thrusters mixed with dudes paying $350 a night for a hotel. I absolutely hate it.
No. Nicaragua is a battered nation that has been battered and broken by the US and other wealthy nations for at least 150 years. That is, the nations that produce the surfers who come and play at heavily guarded resorts. In short, Nicaragua is where Ugly Americans from all nations go to play in the homelands of the oppressed. Worse still, surfing in Nicaragua was “pioneered” when U.S.-backed guerillas and U.S. troops were pressing a hot war against poor communities. Yes, I have a chip on my shoulder –for good reason.
I spent years working with people from Guatemala, Peru and Nicaragua here in the U.S. I was in the same boat as them. They took me in as their friend and helped me out in any way they could. family is everything to them and they treated me like one of their relatives. Much respect to them. They do like to take things though.
You got a problem with U.S. Troops?!
Fuck You!
He doesn’t, he just remembers how the west (and then the south) was won by liberalism…
Methinks the old-fashioned name-drops are sufficient (surfficient?) for this crowd. Chas is (attempting) to play us like a pipe organ under a flimsy guise of innocence.
Am I smelling resort sponsorship perhaps?
The yet-to-be-disproven charge of ‘negative shill’ has left a lingering doubt in the air. Advertising is a funny old game, is it not?
I do this for you. Just wait!
Family Surf Trip.
We’re On It.
I think South Dakota is reading Beach Grit. Their love of these family surf trip articles inspired a $500K ad campaign addressing Meth. https://youtu.be/eBVTl1RAA8E
I’m waiting, for Godot.
https://m.facebook.com/nica…
happening today in managua.. push it.. take your kid to see it.
It’s not a trip to Nicaragua unless you snap one brand new board you brought. Always makes for a great pic in the memory mind surf photo Album.
So did anyone actually surf the spitting lime a-frame?
Also: Please tell us more about the fashion-designer wife.
Thanks.
There is a story? And it’s developing? I trust the present shark deficit will be rectified.
Yeah, way to rub it in.
Thanks.
I’m not going to buy your book now. Seems like you’ve enough wealth as it is. This is the written equivalent of all those ‘influencer’ Instagram posts, which seem specifically designed to increase the suicide rate.
Now that he wrote about it, he can deduct the cost from his taxes! The rich get richer, CB
Ha! I was going to comment about that on the first article. Except bringing the family may prove disastrous if he were to get audited. How do you separate receipts showing family vacation from “receipt for fussy mojitos while on business trip”?
Oh no, is Chas a “can I have the receipts?” kind of guy?
or he gets paid?
Yes, he said he would send me a book for free but it never arrived. Luckily my local library has it now, not a bad book, very entertaining and namedroppy.
That’s the BG spirit, Chozza !
Rub it in !
Hope ya get tropical jock fungus !
dude… shut the fuck up.. Jezus!!! you realize VAL’s read this shit
Nothing a story about a 14 foot tiger shark ruining a family holiday can’t fix…