Paradise Lost

South of Mancora, far off the Pan-American highway, I was too nervous to get car sick as the mototaxi bumped along down the dirt road notorious for its history of armed robbery against surfers.  This former oasis of wealth in the dry, Peruvian desert was once a major oil town in the early 1900s where wealthy Peruvians, Americans and British came for business, gambling and five star beachfront hotels.  The first cinema in the entire South American continent was actually built here to entertain oil tycoons and diplomats alike but you'd never know that today. Following a military coup in 1968, the oil companies were nationalized driving out the town's wealth, a military base was built and abandoned, and the remaining buildings were left to fall into ruins.  Today, all that remains are hollow shells of grandiose buildings, crumbling in the unforgiving heat and constant winds that batter the coast; a few rusted oil wells, clanking along towards a slow death, oil pipes leaking whatever toxic sludge passes through them; and a mechanical left hand point break that draws intrepid surfers to the few surf camps that dot the hills above.

Nacho and his family run a great, no-frills, surf camp on the hill overlooking the point and serve incredible homemade pizza every night.  If hot showers, soft pillows and daily fresh linens are your thing, you're at the wrong hostel and probably wrong town all together. This is a surf town in its purest form: eat, sleep and surf- no bars, no nightclubs, and no surf schools.  Below, a surf shop sits behind a row of abandoned buildings.

Every morning, the wind starts light out of the south east, making for perfect, groomed offshore waves that bend around a long headland at the end of the bay. By mid-day, the winds switch further to the south and pick up, creating white caps on the sea but still grooming the waves in the cove into perfect, clean runners.  A good wave peels a couple hundred yards along the sand bank before closing out on the inside.  For comparison, a good wave at home might break for 50 yards.  The long paddles back to the outside and journey here are well worth it.  Sunset over the point as a couple of surfers try for a few more before dark.

Nacho, his wife and me.  Welcoming hosts and awesome people!

It was tough leaving the camp after eight awesome days of surf, sun and seafood but the lure of better swell and more adventure further south draws me onward.