Surfers trapped in Mexico as civil war erupts in Sinaloa over arrest of alleged fentanyl trafficker and kid of drug lord El Chapo, “We’re hiding out in our apartment with no water or food wondering what the night will bring down!”

"I’m surfing like Apocalypse Now come (too close) to life."

There’s considerable heat on the streets of the Mexican state of Sinaloa tonight following the arrest of Ovidio Guzmán, alleged major mover of Fentanyl into the US and son of the wonderfully cinematic drug lord Joaquin “El Chapo” Guzmán.

The Americanos have been trying like hell to get El Chapo’s kid extradited back to the US since 2017 when the old boy got life in a Florida pen for “drug trafficking with intent to distribute, conspiracy association, organized crime against health, money laundering, homicide, illegal possession of firearms, kidnapping, and murder in Chicago, Miami, New York, and other cities.”

“It’s a reality that drugs destroy,” said El Chapo. “Unfortunately where I grew up, there’s no other way to survive.”

And, now, a five-mill reward offered by the US government has seemingly persuaded one brave soul to snitch on the kid. 

After the arrest of Guzmán, who, authorities claim, was moving up to five tons of fentanyl a month into the US and who also allegedly ordered informers killed, as well as a popular Mexican singer who refused to sing at his wedding, the Sinaloa capital, Culiacán, has gone up in flames, literally. 

The Sinaloa cartel have set up road blocks all over the joint, they’re firing at Mex air force planes with 50-caliber machine guns, cars and trucks are on fire and new arrivals at the airport are huddling under their seats.

And, just a couple of hours south, in surf-soaked Mazatlan, surfers have been told not to move from wherever they’re staying.

In a missive sent to the noted surf journalist Ben Marcus one wrote:

“I’m down in Mazatlan surfing at Olas Altas beach when the Mexican federales captured cartel boss Ovidio Guzman this morning and the cartel goes into reprisal mode and Culiacan and Mazatlan are locked down; the city here is absolutely silent and deserted with choppers flying overhead—and I’m surfing like Apocalypse Now come (too close) to life.

“And now we’re hiding out in our apartment with no water or food wondering what the night will bring down. All a bit too weird. Hope you’re well!?”