Well, not just any Sunday, but on Sunday, January 27th, you might say that the vacation machine that is Sayulita was hitting on all cylinders. We had big, perfect surfing waves at the right, at the town break, in the morning, and though it was crowded, there were so many waves pouring in—what a generous swell the sea-gods sent us!—you could hardly not get one to yourself. I myself—and I admit to wariness with the busy waters of the town break, with its unruly crew of local supersurfers and beginners charging after the same waves—grabbed at least a dozen waves in an hour, and that is something, on a warm, high season Sunday morning with a solid swell on.
And solid it was, with well-shaped waves pouring in all day never mind the tide. On the beach, the beach crowds did what beach crowds do, happy as hell: bake in the perfectly warm but not too hot sun; watch the surfers at play in the waves; watch the many unique and personable Sayulita dogs watch each other playfully yet warily, wondering who was top dog this week; watch the girls walking by, and the boys, and the kids, and the ice cream man and the man selling doughnuts, or shrimp on a skewer, or cocos frios, or kites, blankets, sunglasses, bracelets, herb, jewelry, pottery, kites, tamales, temporary tattoos, or hammocks, every one of these vendors stoically good-natured in the face of rejection after rejection. No, gracias. After five years of watching them trudge, ever hopeful, lugging their product, I wonder how they do it, year after year, but they do it. So give these vendors some respect, even if they are annoying as can be. It doesn’t look like much fun, does it? Surely you can find it in your heart to buy a foot-high wooden sculpture of a moose, handmade in Mexico. Seriously, some of their stuff is gorgeous, and worthy of a place in your home or on your body. Or in your body–some of that beach food is delicious. Take a good look, or have a taste.
The day progressed, and those of us who live here maybe slipped home to do a little work, or take a siesta and contemplate the birds in the trees and the luck we have, living here. That was me, on Sunday, taking a short, well-deserved and much-needed siesta after the travails of a hard morning surf session. After all, I had fallen down several times, in the midst of one radical or foolish maneuver or another, and many a big wave had broken upon my head. Life can be tough here, sometimes.
And then at 5 pm or so, my wife and photographer, Donna Day, and I, went back to the beach to watch it fade away. The mist was drifting off the water, the tide had gone all the way out and was now steaming back in, the setting sun was backlighting all the beautiful bodies on the beach, and it was a…well, a perfect Sayulita end of day. By six the sun was way down low, and the waves at the left, off the north side of the river mouth, had shaped up beautifully, and we watched as a small crowd jockeyed for position and rode the perfect head high surf. Our friend Kirsten, who used to be a smoke jumper, battling forest fires in Idaho and Montana, was out there longboarding, her blonde hair flying in the offshore breeze. Our friend Terry from Hotel Buena Onda grabbed a few on his wooden airplane wing of a board, designed and manufactured by Andy from Vancouver, who’s back and forth for the season, making boards and riding waves. He was out there too, and if you want to learn how to make a wooden surfboard by hand he will teach you. Just let me know, I’ll put you in touch. Donna’s clients for a wedding she’s shooting in a couple of months were guest-DJing at the Camaron Club bar on the beach, dialing in a great reggae and world music set, perfect music for riding waves as the sun went down like a fat happy lemon smeared across the sky over Punta Sayulita.
I have never seen 500 more carefree people, except perhaps the day before yesterday, or was it tomorrow, same places, same times. This is what Sayulita is all about. A perfect warm Sunday in the middle of winter, waves, light, water, music, above all happiness. The joy of…well, simply existing in this time and place. Another Sayulita Sunday. I’ve said it before, and I will say it again: we are blessed to be here and now in Sayulita.
