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Outside Magazine January 2002

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Mexican Hat Trick (cont.)

Piles of trash—scraped-up surfboards and old camping supplies left by various hard-core contingents over the years—disappeared, and a neat row of outhouses erased the need for the time-honored shovel-and-squat routine. Trejo and Smith developed a simple beachfront base camp, with four outdoor shower stalls, private tents, a large dining room, and piles of the latest gear, to serve clients on Solo's eight-day package trips as well as those visiting Punta San Carlos on their own. On the mesa overlooking the ocean, they carved out a looping mountain-bike trail system that rivals anything in Moab.

Round One for me started just after sunrise with a couple of hours of surfing in clean, glassy overhead swells. There were three of us, straddling longboards and taking turns picking off the choice waves as the sets rolled through. With the exception of the whales breaching just outside the impact zone, we were the only sign of life along 20 or so miles of visible coastline.

By 11 a.m. the wind was ripping, and it was time to rig up a sail and head out for Round Two. When it comes to windsurfing, few things beat wave sailing—basically surfing with a sail in your hands—and nothing beats wave sailing at Punta San Carlos. At about 60 degrees, the water is colder here than it is in Maui, usually 75 degrees or so, but there's never a crowd, and the winds are consistent at 25 to 35 miles per hour.

After lunch, a buffet of cold cuts, assorted breads, and fresh veggies, and then another sailing session, I waded out of the water and was rummaging through the cooler when Trejo rolled up on his bike.

"Quick ride?" he offered. I started to protest—I was still in my wetsuit; my arms and legs ached from a good eight hours in the water—but the next thing I knew it was Round Three, and I was madly pedaling to keep up with my guide. When we straggled back into camp, someone handed me a beer and some Band-Aids—a fitting salve for a bruising yet perfect day.

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