25th - 28th August
Wearing clean clothes (yup, even pants!) I carefully backed my bike down the very narrow and very steep ramp out onto the street, nearly dropping the whole rig onto my board as the staff watched my stylish exit with concerned looks / grins.
On the way out of town I filled the tank for $15 and bought some more motor oil, the bike had burned through a litre in about 2,000miles and I am forever checking the level. Leaving Granada I headed West toward Managua passing the huge Volcan Masaya which dominated the view from the road. Blindly following my GPS I weaved through two lanes of traffic and round lawless roundabouts until I popped out the other side of Managua continuing West toward Leon. The sun was shining, the tarmac was smooth and I was in my T shirt and shades cruising through the mountains / volcanoes and buzzing past trucks, I was a happy boy!
After two and a half hours I was approaching the city of Leon. In the distance, to the North, large grey clouds were gathering ominously, I was desperately hoping for a left turn to take me toward the coast but as luck would have it the road to Chinandega required a right turn taking me directly toward the incoming clouds! Tired and not relishing the prospect of water filled boots (again!) I stopped at a road side shack and got a drink of fizzy pop, burned down a quick cigarette, oiled my chain and got myself pumped for the ride into the gloom. After twenty minutes with the sky getting ever darker I arrived at a fork in the road and to my relief was instructed by my GPS to go left and away from the iminent downpour!
After another forty minutes I had arrived at Chinandega, which although quite large was relatively easy to navigate. Out the other side of town the weather was getting brighter and the going was good, the road to Jiquilillo was smooth and mostly empty, the sweeping bends linking together like a long winding snake as I cruised at 60-80mph with a grin from one ear to the other.
At a random junction I took a left and continued in the late afternoon sun off into no-where's-ville passing the odd cyclist or farmer driving his cattle down the road, there was nothing but fields and trees for as far as the eye could see. At this stage of the journey I would always start to get a little anxious... Was the sat nav taking me to the right place? Was I going to make it before dark? Would they have a spare bed? What would I do if I couldn't find the hostel? etc... anyways I did find the hostel... but not before having to ride through two large herds of cattle, wiggling off down two dirt roads, missing the hostel and running out of map, stopping and asking a group of local football lads for directions and then going back and forth for ten minutes trying to find the gate with a pair of sandals on the front! I didn't see a single sign for the Hotel Chancletas but was nonetheless very happy, after riding for the best part of five hours, to have arrived at my destination and within 5mins of arriving at reception I had agreed on three nights instead of the one agreed with walkie talkie man.
Hotel Chancletas is an awesome place. The owners have beautifully developed a large, open and very neatly manicured area of land setback about 50m from the beach with several private houses, a main building with private rooms and a six bed dorm. I took a dorm bed for $10 a night and gorged my self on the excellent daily trio of meals on offer. Food was not cheap by Nicaraguan standards and I ended up spending, on average $30/day including accommodation but having camped for eight days I was glad of the luxury and figured I deserved it!
A short walk down a tiny dirt path takes you out on to the light brown sandy beach. On my first night I had arrived just in time for a beautiful sunset, with a beer in my hand and not a soul on the beach I watched the sun dissapear below the horizon and cast an insanely bright orangey glow over the entire sky, it was beautiful!
At 4:45am my dorm buddy Alex and I got up wearily and wandered down to the beach in the dark. The waves, just about visible had transformed from the onshore mish mash of the night before to a super clean, Hossegor esq wave with 3-5ft barrelling bombs crashing onto the steep beach, churning up the sand and blasting beautiful ribbons of spit out into the air in front of the crushing lip. I understood why the break was called 'The Boom'! My stomach started to churn with a mix of excitement and anxiety. I had been told that the previous day no less than seven boards had been snapped and a guy had involuntarily exfoliated his face on the sea bed. With only one board and not enough in the budget to buy another it was with mixed emotion that I waxed my board and strapped on my leash...
Three or four peaks up and down a stretch of sand roughly 300m long were pitching and forming quick and hollow A frame or closeout waves. The swell was a little mixed up as though two different swells were coming from two different angles resulting in a shifty and inconsistent break. Fortunately the period was about 16s and there was enough time to slip out between sets... however if you got the timing wrong you ended up with a mouthful of sand and a pummelling unlike anything I have ever experienced.
At 5:15am it was light enough to see the sets rolling in, about seven guys and I jumped in the water and slipped out back to wait for the make or break first wave of the day. After 5mins I picked up a small but sucky right hander... with two paddle strokes the wave picked me up and as the face quickly got more vertical I hopped to my feet and shot down into a bowly bottom and down the line. It was a great introduction to the wave and although I was too far onto the shoulder to get barrelled I felt the potential and power and felt my confidence lift. I hopped off the back of the wave and paddled out to await the next one. At this point another 3 guys jumped in and paddled out right in front of me, the guys from America were all friendly and had been at The Boom for a few days and had clearly had some practice. With the rips dragging us up and down the beach it was difficult to hold position and I struggled to be in the right place when the sets came through... it took the Americans 15mins to get off the mark but when they did I quickly realised the different level of surfing ability between us and the wave I had previously been quite happy with was put to shame! One guy in particular, Brian demonstrated how to surf a proper barrelling wave. See the photos... he would literally dissappear in the barrel for a few seconds before being spat out in glory, it was very impressive and humbling to watch. I still have a lot to learn. I caught a few other smaller waves and took a few beatings but my confidence was shot and I was too scared to break my board that I just couldn't commit to the bigger set waves. I hate that feeling and left the water frustrated and angry with myself.
The afternoons brought strong onshore winds and whilst it was still possible to surf the waves were just as heavy but messier and less organised... I got a couple but also got dumped and figured it was stupid risking my board when there was no chance of getting a decent wave so resigned myself to enjoying the hotel grounds, relaxing in the hammocks and reading. A father and son from the states, Brian and Dylan, (Dylan was about eleven I think) were there for a week on a surfing holiday and extremely chatty. They came over and said hello and told me they were going for a boat trip in the morning to a left hand point break about half an hour away. I asked to join and was immediately signed up!
The next morning at 5am I checked the surf and watched as Brian (the other Brian!) and his two buddies jumped in the water while it was still dark... I figured it was a good chance to get some photos so sat and watched for a half hour. Dude he got shacked! His buddies were less good and after twenty minutes a tall dude with shaggy beard got out having lost the nose of his board and grated a load of skin from his stomach! I went and grabbed my board and slipped out into the line up, the waves were a little smaller but still just as hollow... I had a much better session but still didn't snag any barrels.
A wave like this was so totally different from the majority of the waves I had been surfing up to now and required a totally different approach... in order to get into the pit first you need to be sat in the right place, too deep and you get swallowed, too far on the shoulder and you run out before the wave barrels. You need to paddle early and take the wave late which requires a knowledge of this type of wave to position yourself correctly and get the timing right. If you don't commit to the wave and sit too far out to sea or if you don't paddle quick enough you will get caught and thrown from the top of the wave as it begins to pitch. When you pop you need to have the board angled down the line and your toes dug into the board to hold your rail on the steep wall in order to keep a high and fast line to make the barrel... soo many times I would either drop too straight and not make it under the lip or simply get pitched, unable to hold the rail and end up on my back with the lip landing straight on top of me a drilling me into the sand... in short I couldn't figure out how to surf this wave. It was incredibly frustrating and humbling and highlighted the next level of progression required... I sucked!
At 8:30am after some brekkie and coffee Brian, Dylan and I jumped in the hotels 4x4 and were taken to a little village on the estuary where our boat was waiting. Ten minutes through the mangroves took us out to a boulder headland where a super fun and completely empty, left hand point was kicking up just over head high faces which peeled for 50-75m. We dropped anchor and dived off the boat (I smashed my board into the side of the as I did so!) and paddled the 100m over to where the wave was breaking. For the next three and a half hours the four of us took turns taking wave after wave, hollering and whooping and calling each other into the next wave as it jacked up on the horizon... whenever Dylan was on we would all scream extra loud, he got some great waves and would paddle back out buzzing with excitement and explaining each little movement with a massive grin! I must have had over forty waves and was frothing... a steep drop followed by a quick bottom turn up onto the face, a couple of pumps then cut back and pump and cut back... ahhh what a difference, I could actually surf this wave!! At 11:30am the wind swung onshore and we were all totally spent... I grabbed a last couple and hauled myself into the boat. We said goodbye and thanks to the boat driver with fist bumps all round and headed back to Chancletas to recover.
That afternoon was chilled with the exception of my ice bucket challenge which aided by the staff and the excitable Dylan went well. Thanks for the nomination Manko!
Brian very kindly gave me a mount for my GoPro so I could attach it to my board and finally get some video of the waves and invited me to stay when I got to San Diego. Very kind folk these Americans!
I was thoroughly spent after two days at the Hotel Chancletas, the wave was incredibly challenging and I would love to go back with a stack of boards and take a week to figure it out. I have no doubt, given the time I would score some great barrels at this place, it just wasn't to be this time. I would highly recommend this place to any intermediate -experienced surfer, it is an incredible place to stay and the wave whilst challenging is a great place to step up your game, there are also more approachable options available at the points for as little as $10 so you can find the right wave for your ability.
I was knackered after my time at the Hotel Chancletas and was glad to escape with just a flapping tail pad and a cracked rail... Time for some El Salvadorean right hand points... Boom!!!
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