written by 33 Acres Brewing Company

Baja bound. Heading south with Barracuda Surfboards.

Exploring outside of our own community is necessary for us to stay inspired. Pushing ourselves to new limits or traveling to unknown places helps us see what other local communities are doing. Better or worse.

10,000 km in a small truck with a friend that builds surfboards is the best way to co-create something special. We spent 3 days in search of last minute camping supplies, oil changes, truck parts, and food supplies. A trip becomes more visceral when you are in control of getting yourself there.

5am. The Mexican border guards barely looked up as we drifted through the US / Mexico border into Tijuana. Over prepared or under prepared, sometimes being a bit naive gets you to places your parents wouldn’t dream of going.

The Mexico we knew was a place of colourful blankets and margaritas. The Mexico we needed to get through fast was a whole other place. Maybe it was the nightmare stories we read online, or maybe it was the local Southern Californian surfers we talked to, but there was a quiet quality there. Eerie.

Conversation about life, love, weird American accents and b33r chats, we drove a full day to end up on a beach in the middle of nowhere. We surfed alone. The waves were nothing to write home about, but we didn’t have to fight line-ups like we’re used to. Eat. B33r. Edit via generator—sleep.

Before I left for this trip my goal was to remember every wave. I wanted to use that as some sort of focus. What I remember, however, is every road, every curve and every rock. The nature of driving on a single-lane rock road at 2am dodging cows on the cliff side. And the landscape-—a mix of ocean and sun, rocks and dust, cactus and sand. Solitude in the drivers seat. Editing in the passengers seat. Side of the road poop jokes. Big spiders. Walkie talkies and Federalies. 5th to 3rd.

6 days into the trip and all we’ve done is surfed once. It doesn’t seem to matter. It’s late  afternoon Friday. Finally, we found a spot worth the drive. In anticipation of the swell we over did it on the b33r.

Saturday—first light. Fuzzy heads, but up early to see a lot of white water and a very quick right. Yes.

Sunday—seriously under gunned. Didn’t see that coming. Sunday—again, under gunned. Continued driving. Needed to find something a little less exposed. Dusty rocks and another day of driving led to Nirvana. I think we all said to each other that night, “fuck Sayulita.” I should have said that years ago. Why did I keep going there? Maybe it had something to do with falling back in love…still. Never again will I fight for knee high waves with 3 blonde kids and a load of ripper locals. Empty wave after empty wave, thank you.

6am. Forgot to film / photograph for 2 days. Longest wave I’ve surfed. Legs are numb. Sleeping like a baby. IPA tastes great in the sun, but I’m getting a wee tipsy. Will and I mostly agree on beer styles. It’s at that moment we imagine tasting something with a west coast hop nose, but a nice crisp finish of a summer lager. 5.3 % abv. Single fin, 6’6,” rounded pin. Something fast.

10,000km to Mexico and back. California is always fun, but we miss Mexico. #bajab33r.