Witch's Rock and Roca Bruja

San Jose didn't have a lot to offer, so I beat it out of there hastily and head for the beach. With only a vague notion of where I might stay I split for Tamarindo by bus. Unfortunately, this was in the few days leading up to new year's, and the buses were sold out a couple days in advance. I had to resort to a pricey taxi ride, which wound up being kind of cool because it meant a five hour conversation in spanish with my driver, who was patient and helpful with my conjugations.

Tamarindo was packed, in fact overflowing. Somehow, my driver was able to get me a couple of affordable nights at a centrally located hotel, and I was able to reacquaint myself with the pacific ocean pretty easily. However, the crowd was too much, cars and people clogging the streets, kicking up dust, and prices high for the busy season. It didn't take long to decide this wasn't the place for me to end the year, so i decide to move to Mal Pais a couple days ahead of schedule.

Phones are in short supply here (for example, in my current hotel I am online via highspeed wifi, but there isn't a phone in sight), so I had to walk down the street to find Mal Pais lodging, armed with a list of phone numbers and a phone card. Passing muchos ticos and gringos on the street, I thought sure I was mistaken when I heard someone shout my name. When I heard it again I thought maybe crazy.

No such luck, though, it was my friend Gillian, wife to Charles and fellow spades adversary from Pavones. Turns out, the'd driven up from Pavones a couple days prior were staying about an hour away with Gill's extended family. They'd driven into tamarindo so Charles could book a boat to go to Witch's Rock, which is probably Coasta Rica's most famous wave, though difficult to reach except by a half-hour boat ride.

Let me tell you how wonderfully this worked out for me: Witch's Rock, or Roca Bruja, was definitely on my to-do list, and I figured I'd have to sign onto a baot rented by a bunch of strangers. Instead, I was able to join onto Charles's boat. And since that boat left Playas del Coco (an hour or so north) at 6am, I was invited to spend the night with the family at Playa Azucar, aka Sugar Beach.

After a susnet surf session, Charles and Gill drove me up to Sugar Beach. This proved to be a beautiful resort featring many rooms and rental houses on a private cove. the family proved to be big, quite big, with uncles, cousins and siblings numbering about 35. With the power out, we ate dinner, drank a few beers, played some more cards and tried to get some sleep.

The wakeup call came early, and five of us stacked a bunch of boards on an SUV and head out for the boat. A bumpy ride finally led us to an empty stretch of beach on the coast of a forest reserve. Truth is, though, I never set foot on that beach. For seven hours we surfed, with only about twenty minutes spent on the boat for a quick lunch break. For most of that time the waves were frequent and good, and we had them all to ourselves, just the five of us and our two boat guides, Garbiel and Jose. In their early twenties, these two are two of the best surfers I've ever seen, which makes sense. For most of the past decade they've surfed this break four days a week. They flipped around their boards and flew into the air with ease, often even giving the rest of us a chance at some waves. I think we all learned from them, however, and by the end of the day I at least was a better surfer. One of the guys brought along a disposible, waterproof camera, so with luck I will soon have proof in a picture or two of myself surfing, taken from a few feet away and, in one case, about six feet below.

What a day! One of the most fun I've had since I was a kid. It cost me though. I somehow forgot the long-sleeve rash guard I'd broaght specifically for this trip, forgot to wear the strap on hat, forgot the lip balm and forgot to reapply sunscreen regularly. Well, we all did, by the time we got off that boat, all five of us were beet red, and if the others are anything like me, it only got worse the next few days.

As it happened, Charles and the others had a family dinner to attend nearby, the birthday party of one of the younger cousins. Since taking me back to my stuff was incredibly out of the way, I was brought along to a restaurant in nearby resort Playa Ocotal, specifically a restauratn called, appropriately enough, Roca Bruja.

Now, I don't know how it is I have found myself in situations like this several times in my adult life, but being the odd man out at a large family gathering is not new to me. In this case it was a family made up predominately of lawyers and texas oil men: two families of several siblings with their spouses and children. I was the strange guy from California who volunteered to take the big family portrait before submitting drink orders and joining the buffet line.

The entire family turned out to be incredibly gracious and friendly, and somehow I managed not to feel unwelcome for even a minute. It was kind of a bummer when dinner ended and everybody went back to Playa Azucar. Another beer and cards night was brewing, but I had to get to Tamarindo for an early ride to Mal Pais the next morning, new year's eve.