KARMA: "the total effect of one's actions during the successive phases of one's existence, regarded as determining one's destiny."

We need this vacation. For the past few months, I have worked on average about 60 hours a week, trying to squeeze in a surf whenever I could. I need to surf! My wife needs to get away. She has 3 new books that she's stoked about reading. I'm going to get Negra wired and I'm going to surf Ollie's Point.

Iceman, local surf forecasting guru, gives me a forecast and calls for head high plus waves for the foreseeable future. Thanks, Ice!

"You gotta show, not tell."

Allan Weisbecker's words ring in my head as I sit in the Raleigh-Durham airport, awaiting a flight to Miami, then connecting to San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica. We hop on the plane and fly to Miami, then have a good flight down to San Jose. Its dark when we arrive and the guys from the rental car place are waiting to pick us up at the airport, so we are whisked away and have our RAV-4 within 30 minutes. We spend the night at the Buena Vista hotel, just north of the airport.

We check in and I inspect the boards. I have brought two boards with me: a 6'9" fish and a 7'0" performance board. I'm 6'3" and 205 lbs. I packed these boards as well as I've ever packed my boards before, including thick rubber pipe insulation around the rails, a separate bag for each board, and the two boards inside my travel bag. So imagine my horror when I pull my fish out and it has a hole in the rail. I've ridden this board twice before this trip. The 7'0" has a crack down the rail. I can fix the 7'0" pretty easily, but I'll need an orbital sander to fix the fish. My plan is to get it fixed first thing when we arrive at our destination.

We get to Tamarindo about 1:00 p.m. The town seems to have twice as many people in it, compared to my last trip. The streets are filled with 20 year old gringos with no shirts and their ass cracks showing. My wife and I start hotel-hunting. I also inquire around about where to get a ding fixed. One guy tells me of a shop, so we head that way. We check into the the Hotel Zullymar and make our way to the shop. The shop is closed for lunch, so we wait. After 15 minutes, a guy unlocks the gate. I walk in and ask the guy, a big 6'1", 200 lb latino, how much the shop charges for a ding. This guy is giving me stinkeye and treating me like a world class kook, really blowing me off. I finally go get the board and bring it in. A younger, smaller guy comes out and starts telling me how much he likes my board. I'm really getting along with the younger guy and he says he'll be the one to fix my board. I ask him when it will be ready and he says, "Tomorrow afternoon." Cool! We agree on $20 for the repair. He asks he to wait one minute while he checks with his manager to make sure. He goes and asks the Stinkeye Guy if tomorrow afternoon will be okay. Stinkeye looks at me, then yells out, "We'll get to it when we get to it." This is not going well. The young guy comes back over to me and whispers, "I'll have it ready by tomorrow at 5 p.m." Cool! I hope Stinkeye isn't there when I pick it up.

That afternoon, I patch up the 7'0" and head out to Langosta, my favorite wave in the area. Its been 2 years since I've been to Tamarindo and a HUGE hotel/casino is now sitting at the edge of the rivermouth. What was once a fun wave is not there any more. I suspect the development of the rivermouth has affected the transport of sand through the rivermouth and I immediately curse the hotel/casino. Karma will play a future role with the hotel/casino.

I head back into Tamarindo, grab my board and run down to the rivermouth at the Bay, where I ride some waist high waves that make Atlantic Beach look like Shipstern Bluff. I promise myself as I'm walking back to the hotel that I will never surf the Bay again.

to be continued

I head back to Tamarindo and wake my wife up. We grab breakfast at the Fruitas Tropicales, then explore Tamarindo during the daytime heat. After lunch, my new buddy Jim comes up to the hotel and introduces me to his two daughters. Jim says he's thinking about taking the boat ride out to Witches Rock and Ollies Point. I tell him I'm interested, so we decide to meet up at Witches Rock Surf Camp in Tamarindo at 7:00 p.m. My wife and I head out to Playa Grande to catch the incoming tide and I score some head high beach break waves.

There's at least 50 guys in the water. Ugh! One wave in particular stands out. I take off on a head high wave and I see the section in front of me pitch. I pull in just as the backwash hits the wave, almost knocking me off my board. The lip suddenly goes from almond-shaped to round, and I'm shacked. Scored a barrel for PW back home. I head back to Tamarindo around dark and drive to the surf shop where I dropped off my fish. I'm hoping Stinkeye isn't around. He isn't. The kid that fixed my board did a great job, so I'm back in business. I head to Witches Rock Surf Camp for beers before Jim and I are supposed to meet. The four Brazilians from the Negra session are there. The guy running the show (El Jeffe from San Diego) tells me he only has space for 1 more guy for the next trip, so I tell him I'm not going to leave my new buddy hanging. El Jeffe says, "Don't sweat it, bro, we'll get you out there for $50." So I down a few beers. Jim shows up on time, so we go talk with El Jeffe. El Jeffe starts telling us that the boat is full, but for $75 each, he can get us on the boat. Jim and I start playing a good guy/bad guy routine with El Jeffe, threatening to use another boat trip we had lined up (we hadn't) and El Jeffe miraculously finds room on the boat for the both of us for the previously-agreed-upon $50. I'm going to Ollies! El Jeffe tells us to show up no later than 5:30 a.m., or they will leave us. I'm not too stoked with El Jeffe's treatment, but I'm going to Ollies!

Let me add a note about Jim, a 42 year old carpenter. Keep in mind that some of the coolest people in the world have been or are carpenters. Jim is of Norwegian decent, and he looks the part. He's well-versed in Norse mythology. If indeed there is such thing as reincarnation, I feel confident Jim and I were soldiers in some Viking army many moons ago. We hit it off immediately and surfed together for the next week. If I do not ever see Jim again on this mortal plane, we will meet again in the Great Hall of Valhalla. Oh yeah, Jim charges!

to be continued

Around 6:00 a.m., we finally wake the Witches Rock Surf Camp kids up. Obviously, our shuttle drivers from Tamarindo to Del Coco are hung over. After loading up everyone, we head to Tamarindo with a still very drunk driver. I'm nervous.

We get to Del Coco in one piece and go to Witches Rock Surf Camp-Del Coco. There's a few more people here, and an older tall guy is giving a lecture on fin flex. After awhile, the lecturer tells the camp guys that he's not going with them today, and leaves. I ask Jim who the guy was. Jim says, "Nat Young." Really?

The camp has two boats running. Jim, Nancy, me, and a couple other folks take one boat. Hippie Bob and the rest of the crew take the other boat. Nancy talks my ear off about all the big waves he's surfed. This guy is getting under my skin.

"You gotta show, not tell."

We take the 45 minute boat ride to Ollie's and as we pull up to the break, we start counting boats. 9 boats, counting ours, each with 6-8 heads apiece. That's a helluva lot of folks at a point break with one takeoff spot. The four Brazilians are out there. Its about shoulder high, so I hit the water and proceed to try to work my way into the pecking order. There is no order, as 4-5 guys take off on every wave. Where the hell is etiquette? The waves are fun and LONG, about the same conditions as Ollie's in the Endless Summer II, but its hard to get one to myself.

Ollie's is a beautiful place, a perfect right hand point breaking over some rocks around the takeoff, then a smooth sand bottom all the way down the cove. This day, the swell is from the southwest and the longer rides are 150 yards or more. The ideal swell would be a south swell, and I see the potential of the place. There's a Brazilian wave hog on a funboard wearing a Speedo, so the natural beauty of the place was ruined.

After a few hours, I realize that I will have to burn people to get waves. I do not like this. I also don't like paying the surf camp $50 for the boat ride, then competing for set waves against surf camp workers. I see this one set coming. There's a couple of guys sitting deep and a fat surf camp worker on a fun shape, so I take off, burning the fat kid and the other guys sitting deep. I get a couple of turns, look back and watch the fat kid fall as the other guys catch up to him, then I kick out. I'm paddling back up the point when the fat kid starts lipping me. Huh? I paddle over to him and ask him, "What's the problem?" He says, "I thought we were all friends here. Why you snaking me? That was my wave." I look at him kinda funny and say, "I guess you didn't see the two guys behind you that you stuffed. Hey, I'm sorry I dropped in, but I don't owe you an apology when you hose two other guys, then claim the wave." The fat kid says, "You need to learn some respect." I'm about to go ballistic, then I remembered the S.T.A.R. (Stop-Think-Act-Review) method in Nat Young's book, Surf Rage. I tell the kid, "Pura vida", and I paddle up the point. Later in the day, the fat kid burns one of my four Brazilian "buddies" and almost gets his ass kicked before some gringos come to his aid. Karma.

We stay at Ollie's all day and finally talk the surf camp guys into taking us to Witches Rock. Nancy, who was not getting many waves at Ollie's, decides from the boat that its too small and opts to stay in the boat. Jim and I jump overboard and paddle in. Its head high plus at Witches and closing out a bit. We get 40 minutes of Witches before we leave. I watch this guy named Mike from San Diego get the wave of the day, a couple of feet overhead and a screaming left. He disappeared in the shack and came out. Hell yeah!

After arriving back in Tamarindo, I'm bummed about the whole crowd scene. I'm not feeling any "Pura Vida." My wife and I eat at the Fruitas Tropicales, and the four Brazilians come in and pick the table next to me, where they start talking loudly in Portugese and giving the waiter a hard time. I'm getting sick of these guys.

to be continued

We get to Negra and its thumping out on the reef. About 5 guys are out and its kinda closing out, but spinning off some nice barrels. Jim and I paddle out and John watches from shore. One of the guys out there is a big, stocky guy who looks like a Brazilian Johnny Boy. He's got the same demeanor and takes any wave he wants. I'm paddling out as he takes off on an overhead wave that hits the reef and jacks up. He pulls into a standup barrel, sees me, and stakes his claim by throwing his arms behind his back. WHOOM! He gets blasted. Karma.

Let me interject that I have been harboring a fear of low tide Negra for about 2 years. The paddle out, with my fins scrubbing rocks, and feeling the reef with my hands on the downstoke has not left me feeling very confident. Low tide Negra looks out for itself, and there's really only one takeoff spot, so EVERYONE in the lineup and the beach sees everyone else. A good beating will cost you embarrassment and set waves.

I get out to the takeoff spot and realize that my fish, based on the template of the ironing board, may not have enough nose rocker for this low tide beast of a wave. I proceed to get some good waves. I also got pitched on the takeoff, then sucked over the falls on the paddle back out. Somehow, I came out of those beating relatively unscathed, except for reef cuts on my foot. I'm sitting back out in the lineup when John paddles out. He says, "I'm watching you from the beach, picking off nice waves and getting pitched, and you're still alive, so I paddled out." Good on ya, John! Later, in the session, I get pummelled trying to pull into a barrel, and me and my board somehow find the only strip of sand in the reef. I know its sand because me and my board are pinned to it for about 5 seconds. We stay out a couple more hours, then paddle in. I'm feeling better about Costa Rica.

That afternoon, my wife and I head out to Grande for the afternoon glassoff. Its oil slick glass and head high. Nancy and Hippie Bob are out there, along with John from Avellanes/Negra. John tells me how much he enjoyed Negra that morning and thanks me for getting him out there. He says, "The ride back was awesome."

I ask, "What are you talking about?" He says, "Just lovin' life, man."

This guy is losing it.

Great session, except for the crowd. This crowd is aggro and I'm losing my patience, when Mike from San Diego paddles out and sits beside me. He is genuinely stoked and keeps raving about the 5-7' waves out at the Point the day before. Talking to this guy gets me to start thinking. I decide then and there that tomorrow my bad attitude is changing. Thanks, Mike!

to be continued

Jim and I head back to Tamarindo. I go get breakfast with my wife and check e-mail and stuff at the internet cafe across the street from the Zullymar. I tell my wife I want to show her Avellanes and Negra. She agrees, so we ride out there after lunch. I take her to Negra, but the wind is onshore, so we drink beers with the morning California crew at Hotel Playa Negra. Somewhere in between beers, my wife shoots her mouth off and tells the crew that she'll get up at daybreak and shoot a couple rolls of film the next day. Really? Cool!

I can't help but think about La Punta.

My wife tells me that she talked to a lady and her daughter and they told her about the "bull fight." My wife says that the "bull fight" may have been mangled in translation, but we decide to check it out.

We stop by and see Jim and his family. The women are off in the corner talking, and Jim says, "I'm going to Ollie's Monday. I want that wave again!" I slap hands with him and say, "I'm going with you, give me a day to work on it." We're grinning like children when the women ask, "Why are you guys so happy?" We say nothing.

My wife and I leave. A couple of miles out of town, I say, "Jim is going to La Punta Monday." She smiles and says, "Are you going?" I say nothing. She says, "Honey, you have to ask." I meekly hear myself say, "Can I go?" She smiles that million dollar smile of hers, and says, "Yes." I love my wife! Its on!

We head to Santa Cruz for the "bull fight", which is actually bull riding by the baddest ticos around. The kids will get in la plaza de toros and serve as rodeo clowns. These kids are fast and NEVER get hit by the bull. We are paying for tickets when my wife sees the lady and her daughter. They are with her husband, Leon. Leon is drunk and so is his wife. I shake Leon's hand, then head up the stairs. The first bull gets ridden by the tico. The kids scramble around the ring, taunting the bull. Leon walks by me, toward the stairs. A couple of minutes later, the next rider is ready. The kids are in the ring, waiting for the bull. The bull comes out of the chute, with the tico on his back. I see something, then shake my head and blink my eyes. The heat is playing tricks on me. I look in the ring again, pointing to a drunk barefooted gringo with a cigarette in his hand, running toward the bull. I then look to my left. The lady and her daughter are videotaping. I tap my wife on the shoulder and say, "Isn't that Leon?"

Leon somehow survived the bull ring. Karma?

Jim drives separate and we meet up at Negra. We enjoy a great session! Its smaller, maybe chest to head high, but chest high reef break is good surf for this East Coast boy, so I'm stoked.

After a couple of hours, this French dude paddles out and starts to paddle around everyone for waves. This dude is giving off some bad vibes. I'm sitting outside and waiting when the set comes. Frenchy is sitting inside. He paddles out and around me. This is going to be a perfect right and if I take off, I'm going to drop right on top of him, so I back out. Frenchy goes left into the closeout section.

I'm disgusted as I watch this perfect right rip down the reef, so I catch a wave in. As I'm standing there, talking to my wife, Frenchy paddles in. He broke his board on the left. Karma.

After breakfast with the morning crew, my wife and I head to the Secret Spot. Its hard to find, but when we get there around 10:00 a.m., the tide is low and wind is just switched onshore, but I can see the potential of the break. Its a heavy beachbreak wave! Two guys are out, and they are getting thumped! I don't want any part of it.

We pass Nancy as he heads toward Negra. Its 11:30 a.m.

We head back to Tamarindo around noon. I want to check the surf forecast and read my e-mail, so I head over to the internet cafe. I grab an empty PC next to this tall, older guy. I'm reading Iceman's updated Costa Rica forecast and checking out SurfLine when I notice the older guy looking at my screen. He leans over and says, "Its going to stay small for a few days and then the swell's coming up around midweek." I look at him. He looks familiar. Where have I seen this guy? I say, "Are you Nat Young?", feeling like the starstruck kook that I am. He says, "Yeah." I introduce myself and tell him that I really enjoyed this book "Surf Rage." He thanks me. I look back at the screen and finish reading Iceman's forecast. Ice is calling for 5-7' out of the SSW. Mr. Young is calling it small. This young Gulf Coast surfer named Brian starts chatting Nat up, so I say goodbye to Mr. Young and settle up my bill and leave. I'm going to La Punta tomorrow, Iceman.

I head out to Langosta and get an afternoon session in the closeout that used to be a fun wave.

I keep thinking about La Punta.

My wife and I head to the grocery store, where we bump into Nancy. Nancy tells us he left Hippie Bob back at their place this morning, but that he scored some big Negra. Really?

"You gotta show, not tell."

I get back to the hotel, grab some cash, then head to Jim's house. Jim and I line up a boat with the Best Western folks and start looking for a third and/or fourth to share the boat. I see Mike from San Diego walking up with a longboard under his arm. He's with another longboarder. The longboarder looks familiar. Where have I seen him, Negra, Grande? I run out of the shop and say, "Hey Mike, you looking for a boat trip?" I give his friend a "What's up, bro?"

Mike puts his board down and says, "Man, I'd love to, but I'm leaving tomorrow. Give me a second. Hey Wingnut, enjoyed the session, man."

The longboarder says, "Yeah, Mike, I'll look you up back home." He walks off.

Mike turns around and says, "I JUST SURFED WITH WINGNUT!"

I feel like an ass. I just WHAT'S UP BROed Wingnut.

Jim and I hook up with Hippie Bob, and he's in for La Punta.

to be continued

We stop at Witches and it begins to rain. Not a person in sight. The rain stops and a rainbow forms over the rock.

We hit the water at 6:15 a.m. and paddle inside the lee of the rock. The surf is head high plus and reeling lefts. No wind.

Hippie Bob is owning it.

We surf for two hours, then head for the boat as the other boats arrive. We get to La Punta and there are two boats.

South-southwest swell. What's the surf look like?

We have a great first session with only 10 guys out. Everybody is getting their fair share. 200 plus leg burning yards. There is one older longboarder that is getting more than his fair share. I sit inside, over by the takeoff rock where the head high waves peak. A small set comes. I'm sitting deepest; its my wave. I start to paddle. Down the line, so does Mr. Longboarder. I'm taking off late and deep when I see Hippie Bob paddling furiously on the shoulder, between me and Mr. Longboarder. What the hell? I'm concentrating on getting around this section when I look down the line and see Hippie Bob run up on Mr. Longboarder, flip him off his board and kick out as he yells, "You're all clear."

I'm laughing so hard I don't make the section.

I paddle over to the boat and have lunch. There are at least 4 new boats on the scene. The captain and I eat chocolate cookies and watch the action in the water. There is one guy in particular, a big Latino guy, who is serving as the Sheriff of the break. He's barking at anyone and everyone that paddles for any wave he does. He's laying a tongue-lashing on everybody in the water; no one is spared.

I wait for this guy to get his session before I hit the water again. I didn't want any part of this guy. He paddles in after an hour.

Jim is owning it.

I paddled out to the inside peak by the rocks and catch a couple of nice rides. I took one all the way down the cove and took this shot.

I paddle back up the point and get a fun wave. As I'm paddling back out, I see the big Latino guy is up on a wave and headed toward me. He kicks out and starts paddling next to me and gives me stinkeye. What the hell did I do?

I'm paddling next to the guy when he suddenly paddles up on me. Oh shit! Then he smiles and says, "Good wave." I'm scared to death. I say, "Thanks, you also." Then he says, "You don't recognize me, do you? I'm the guy who fixed your board." Its Stinkeye from Tamarindo!

He tells me to follow him, then shows me the rip next to the cliff that makes paddling out much easier. I follow him back to the takeoff spot and sit beside him, giving him priority. A set comes and Stinkeye looks at me and says "Go!" Hell yeah, I go! This wave turns out to be a great wave and when I kick out 6 or 7 turns and 250+ yards later, I see Stinkeye on the second wave of the set. He gives me a thumbs up as he kicks out. We look up the point see a good-sized wave swing wide. He looks at me and says, "You come sit at the top of the point with me." Hell yeah!

I follow him back up the point through the rip and I find myself sitting deepest next to the cliff, about 50 yards past the old takeoff spot. Stinkeye is sitting next to me when the set comes. He tells me to go on the first wave of the set. I go. This thing reels off for many more yards more than the other waves. I finally kick out in waist deep water and look up to see Stinkeye on the second wave of the set. I'm paddling back toward the boat when I get this shot.

Jim and Hippie Bob paddle back to the boat after about 30 minutes, and we endure the scariest boat ride I've ever been on. The wind was 40 knots plus, lightning is cracking around us, and the seas are at least 6 to 7 feet and we're in a panga! The boat captain looked at me and said, "Tiempo malo." Somehow, we made it back to Del Coco 1 1/2 hours later. Karma?

I had the single greatest surfing day of my life that day.

to be continued

On the way back to Tamarindo, I come up on a roadblock. A family has a rope across the road. I stop and see a smoltering, rundown shack. The family is raising money for the replacement of the house. I see the old lady who lived there, sitting under a tree. My eye catches hers. Jack Johnson's "F-Stop Blues" is playing on the tape player, and I start to cry. Yep, I cried. I realized just how unfair the world is.

I don't surf anymore that day.

My wife and I eat dinner at the Fruitas Tropicales, next to the 4 Brazilians. I finally walk over to them and say, "Hasta manana a Negra, mes amigos." They just look at me strange, then ignore me.

WEDNESDAY, July 31
At 5:00 a.m., I'm heading to Negra. The tide is low, going high. My last day and I'm catching Negra at low tide. I get to the break and there's nobody out. The surf is reeling! Its very good Negra. I don't see the 4 Brazilians anywhere.

I paddle out and catch some waves. A guy named Stan from Santa Barbara paddles out. He's a friendly enough guy, but he just arrived the night before, so he's still got the States on him. "Give him a few days, and he'll mellow," I think. I was this guy a week ago.

I got so many great waves that morning. The greatness had nothing to do with my abilities, either. There I was, a North Carolina kook, scoring great waves. It was just a perfect morning and a perfect wave. After 3 hours, it started getting more crowded (4 people!) and I got out and took this picture.

As I was taking this picture, Nancy and Hippie Bob show up. Nancy tells me how he's been to Costa 7 times and rode triple overhead.

"You gotta show, not tell."

Later, I find out that Nancy has been surfing for 3 years.

I drove back to Tamarindo and have never been happier in my life. I just lived the Endless Summer! I now know what John was talking about.

My wife and I pack up and leave. As we drive by the old lady's burned house, I stop. The lot has been cleared and a new foundation has been staked off. Karma.

KARMA: "the total effect of one's actions during the successive phases of one's existence, regarded as determining one's destiny."

We flew out of San Jose the next day.

Pura vida!

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For those that are still reading, thanks! I had to write this story down and share it with someone.

For the record, Hippie "Bob" is an acclaimed musician that tells me that Topsail is his favorite part of North Carolina. He gave me a CD of his music and its good. If you want to know how to contact him, drop me a note at MalPaisTico@aol.com