glad 2011 !
By now you have probably recovered from your weekend , or perhaps you fiddle it saucy and rang in the New Year commend how you went to bed .
My New Year can be sum up up in just a few words : Baja . Remy . Veuve . Cazadores . K48 . K58 . Fresca . Pacifico . Margaritas . Muchas margaritas . Rooaaaad triiiiiiiip ! ¡ Y las olas muy divertido !
After a week of torrential rain and the possibility of browse anywhere in these SoCal waters a short dicey , I could n’t wait to hop across the mete for some Sunday , breakers , sand , cerveza and ceviche !
A quick four - hour drive down south and we were looking at endless miles of deserted , uncorrupted , azure beach with nary a McMansion on the bluffs above . The waves were small but consummate fun size — the eccentric of moving ridge you did n’t have to think about riding , you just stood up , maybe company - brandish with a few of your ally , laughed , ooh’ed and ahh’ed over the dolphins , and paddle back out while the sun set beneath the apparent horizon .
And when the last of the fiery rays disappeared into the ocean , we would walk the five minute back to our family , a five - bedroom rental in a snazzy gringo residential district with a private breaker unwrap right in front , and let the celebration set about .
New Year ’s Eve Day started off with a round ( or two , or three ) of Remy … some margarita … a match bottles of mulled wine … a case of cervezas ( to soak up all the fajitas occur off the grill ) … followed by champagne … LOTS of champagne ! … and the countdown to end all countdowns . We got shushed by the security department guards . We got shushed by our neighbor . We got the hint and lead for a 1AM stroll around the region , where we met new ( and much cooler ) neighbor who tolerate us to crash their balefire on the beach . The details of the residue of that night are a bit fuzzy .
The next daylight we were thankful we did n’t have to drink anymore !
We went on a breakers - scoping mission along the coast … and the whole sentence , I was mentally forecast how much I would demand to build a house down there . Seriously — all these empty oceanfront lots , all these undulation , and no one out to relish them ? Unreal .
We found the gross slight spot where we could drive the truck straight down onto the sand … oooh , I could get used to that .
We had our pick of peaks up and down the coastline , all day long . We even caught tonic mussel off the beach , which our friend turned into this savory snack afterward that night .
Of course , it ’s not an risky venture until something goes awry .
Truck # 1 does n’t start . We intend it ’s the battery . We notice jump cables in hand truck # 2 . But motortruck # 2 pay off stick in the sand while driving over to truck # 1 . We dig out truck # 1 with a clean plank of plywood . We finally link the cable television to the two trucks . Truck # 1 still does n’t start .
Hmmm .
A particularly resourceful friend crawls under the hand truck and after performing some conjuration with what just seem like a screwdriver , motortruck # 1 miraculously starts . Something about saltwater corroding . Lesson learned : always contribute a mechanic on road trips . Oh , and a son talent scout too . Between take in a mechanic and a male child watch in your group of friends , you ’re covered for virtually any calamity that comes up !
With rumbling breadbasket , we guide off to the good little taco stand near K38 for some post - surf , stuff - your - side , spicy , greasy , goodness . For some understanding , I always thirst a Mexi meal after a day of surfboarding . Or climbing . Or snowboard . You just ca n’t go wrong with a homemade tortilla heap with piles of carne and chile . Que rico !
And of course of study , no trip is ended without a little shopping sashay . After some mellow haggle , the fellow and I bought somemacetasand a beautifulchimeneafor our abode . LOVE . IT !
It made the two - hour hold at the border crossing not so unsound , after all .
