The sound of reggaeton echoes across the small bay of Playa Remanso. Sitting on my board, I scan the horizon for the next set. It’s high tide and I’ve been telling myself one more wave for almost an hour now. I’m alone and the sun set some time ago. I watch the silhouetted shapes of pelicans dive bombing schools of mackerel splashing at the surface. After a few years of living in the desert of Central Australia, it’s been a long time between waves. The pain engulfing my upper body is a testament to this and I regret not taking Leisas earlier advice to stretch. The next set approaches and I begin to paddle. I make a mess of the pop up and eat shit. I feel the embarrassment of wasting an easy wave, especially in the knowledge that my French surfing buddy has been watching me from the shore. In spite of its carefree sensibilities, surfing is very much about keeping up appearances.
The consistent swell and strong off-shore winds make Southern Nicaragua a surfer's wet dream. Situated next to the largest lake in Central America, Lake Nicaragua, the large expanse of water funnels strong trade winds from the Caribbean, resulting in almost constant offshore winds. This is perfect for amateur surfers like yours truly, because the waves are easier to read and more predictable.
After a few days surfing in Playa Remanso we moved North to Playa Maderas, stopping in San Juan del Sur to pick up a week's supply of food and beer. The road to Playa Maderas was bumpy and dusty. We dropped our bags at our accommodation and headed straight to the beach to check out the surf. The religious festival Santa Semana was in full swing and the beach was packed with local families grilling meat, smashing beers and blasting shitty reggaeton through equally shitty speakers.
I was intimidated by the crowded line up at the main break. There was clearly some tension between local and foreign surfers. I wanted to stay well away from this. Luckily, there were multiple breaks to choose from. As an intermediate level surfer with a strong aversion to crowds, I would position myself a few hundred metres to the right or left of the main lineup. For beginners like Leisa, Playa Maderas was a perfect spot to practise. There was plenty of space to catch white water from bigger sets breaking further out.
By Australian standards, I am a bad surfer. My technique is atrocious and I always seem to pop up at the wrong time. On most attempts, I wipe out or miss the wave completely. But the release of plunging down the face of a big wave makes it all worth it. The feeling is addictive and I can see how some spend a lifetime chasing this sensation.