Up early and great coffee by the pool starts us out but also keeps us lingering to finally see us to the beach by 7:30. More of the same from yesterday. Great big, beautiful waves on a beach break where John is out there in the line-up getting cover shot rides and making the younger crowd think the positive, "Man, I hope I can always surf like that too" or for the kooks who don't even notice that John is their Dad's age, "Damn, he's good". The swell is generating a ton of secondary break that's perfect for me. I'm loving this secondary swell and my wave count is huge! I'm getting the hang of turning better. I'm surfing down by one of the many surf schools that have showed up on a perfect day to treat folk to the thrill of walking on water. But this beach is huge and there's no jockeying for space or getting in one another's way.
I catch a gentle shoulder on a right and ride it all the way in to a really cute Australia instructor. We chat for a minute about how many women are learning to surf now, and age not presenting any barriers to that activity. 50 is the new 30 in positive ways that don't include cougars, plastic surgery or, hopefully, still supporting your kids. Women over 50- get out there and try it. I have not found anyone who has been negative or mean spirited about my surfing. Of course I acknowledge it helps to be in the company of a Shaman of the Waves, a Big Kahuna, but even when I've been out with just women or by myself, it's been all positive vibes.
I guess that leads me to muse on my childhood for a minute. When my older brothers got their first incredibly long, heavy, waterlogged, dinged up board in 1962, ( Redondo Beach), the sport was still young (the Redondo Breakwater of Beach Boys' lore was still pumping, having not been dredged yet to save the beach) and dominated by males. But hey- we were 5-6 years away from burning any bras. I was a very good body surfer, but didn't try surfing until my teens, which was sort of unsuccessful. I have to say I never really got nasty treatment, though I know many other girl surfers did in many So Cali surf spots, but I also never got the encouragement or instruction either. And surf schools were not in vogue. When I took up skiing at 17, damn I was good really quick and it stole me away from my beloved beach to go live in the Tahoe mountains. Clearly, I did best when I achieve some success and can see a possibility of leaving kook, (or in the snow world-"bunny") status behind me. I'm glad that my 50's ushered me back into a sport I have always wanted to do, and maturity is softening my position on having to be good. I'm trying to maintain a zen approach to me- the wave- the world, and not be so competitive with myself. I'd like to comment that that thinking is helping with other life issues too. A different blog, a different day.
Back to Nosara:
We are now into this area but would it be rough to live here? If a business would need to be started, what would that be? The main photographer at Surfing Nosara recommends a laundry mat or a gym as two businesses he wishes were here. Maybe.... But John and I start some discussion about whether or not we would even need an additional income to my teaching retirement pension. John is a good listener and a better contributor to these types of talks and I am once again glad to have a life partner who is smart, practical, and an amazing surfer. We late breakfast/lunch at Kayasol and a burger with fries goes down sort of rough. Too much animal fat in the fries, is my guess. John will burp this up most of the day. We split one burger and one smoothie and it's close to $20. Staying here in the future will be with a kitchen!
Some down time at the hotel, watching a howler family go tree to tree on their daily schedule of monkey life. The big male trails the pack and keeps an eye on us, as if scaling a 20 foot mango tree will suddenly be possible and an attempt will be made to attack the mother monkey with the cute baby being worn as a fanny pack as she follows the tribe.
Late afternoon is, of course, time for another session! Its again, big shock, BIG, so it's great for John, and I will watch him surf and walk the beach. A giant green turtle is trying to lay her eggs onshore with a close and overly attentive crowd watching on. Some privacy please people! But she seems non-plussed but then again trutles don't have a lot of readable expression. I walk all the way down to the river's mouth to the rock that separates Guiones from Playa Plata, sinking up to my ankles in this weird beach meets river mud..
Leaving the beach, a young man approaches and asks if we can recommend a place to stay. We tell him about $13 per hostel night KayaSol, The Gilded Iguana, which is near KayaSol and the known party place, and about the quiet solitude of the place we are at. Heck- we don't know what his trip is so we just give him all the choices. He does turn up at our hotel and even though he's in that late 20-early 30-something age bracket, he likes a little quieter place, needs dependable WiFi as well as that 24/7 coffee. His name is Bill, from New York- an inventor, photographer, lawyer and maybe an actor someday sort of eclectic person we love talking to, and he joins us at the pool patio for dinner. He attended a Tamarindo language class for a week and was rounding out his stay by doing some exploring, taking photos and he wanted to try some more surfing after having had one lesson up north. I have the carpaccio again because I must admit I love raw meat, olive oil and avocados- and for $7??? John and I also split an order of seafood ravioli and it is wonderful. We go to bed, making plans to meet at the beach in the morning to give Bill a surf lesson, after he acquires a rental board.