I always love going to Todos Santos. Maybe it’s the added excitement that comes with crossing into the “dangerous” territory of Mexico, or maybe it’s the adventure of just getting to this remote sanctuary.
3:15am: The alarm buzzes and with hazy eyes, nervous excitement, and a strong cup of coffee in hand, our journey begins. As we cross over the border and into foreign land, we feel a loss of safety and comfort that comes with being on home soil. Down Baja’s Highway 1 our hearts stop as our lone vehicle strapped with surfboards passes a parked Policia. We watch anxiously for any sign of disturbance, but are relieved as he allows us to continue on our way.
5:45am: Upon arrival at the harbor, out of the darkness comes Jorge, our captain for the day. He presents us with a choice of boats; we opt for the larger as we know this will be an all-day affair. With the help of our guide, we eagerly load the gear with hopes of being the first boat out of the harbor and better yet the first guys in the water.
6:30am: As our vessel trudges across the 10 mile channel to Todos Santos Island, we wonder how big will it be? 10 feet? 20 feet? Dare I say bigger? The sun is now beginning to peek over the mountains to our backs as the Todos Santos lighthouse comes into view. Almost there. The boys start restlessly turning wetsuits inside out, with the knowledge that every second will be valuable when we arrive. Our boat lurches over the open ocean mountains as we come around the southwest corner of the island. The swell is big.
7:30am: We reach the beloved Todos Santos, aka “Killer’s”, drop anchor and within moments dive off the bow and into perfection. 10-15 feet turquoise bombs, blue skies, and oil glass. As we stroke to get to the lineup, a set stacks to the horizon. Adrenaline pulsing, one of the boys whips at the last second and disappears down the vertical wall. Spray from the wave blinds the rest of us as we look back to see if he’s made it. Into the channel he emerges, successful.
2:00pm: The day is filled with hoots, hollers, air drops, broken boards, and a shared camaraderie. With tired arms, sunburns, and smiles on our faces, we head to the boat and start the trek home. The boat ride back consists of a beer or two, 80’s jams (courtesy of Jorge), and reminiscences of the day’s session. “Bro, you were so late on that one!” “No way, I couldn’t believe you packed that tube!”
4:00pm: The car is loaded and we head north, back up Highway 1 to the safety of the United States. With little hesitation, we decide to enjoy one last piece of Mexico, a couple pastor tacos. The boys wolf down half a dozen each, stoked from the day’s execution of another big wave mission. We are content… until Poseidon awakes again.