i made the drive to singer island from hypoluxo to meet a friend staying there. we surfed some great lefts off some rocks near a park. later we went to the brass ring pub (rivera) on lingere night. my friend had a beer in one hand and his other hand in the panties of one of the "models". her eyes glazed over for a bit. were were there only 30 minutes.
That park used to fire some point break lefts off the south rock. You could take off behind the rock which made it an adreneline takeoff, and once you cleared the rock it was all gravy for 100 yards or more down to the hotels. Now, due to sand pumping projects to the north, to protect condo owners who built too close to the beach and then cut down the dune side vegitation so they could have an ocean view from the 1st floor of their 30 story beasts, the place is totally clogged with sand and breaks like crap. Brass Ring is not clogged with sand yet, and has good burgers and cold beer. I didn't know they offered groaper fingers on the menu.
Great post there Speed Bump! Great thread. I've boated up to some outer reef passes in the Abacos in the Bahamas. Between the razor reef, and the multitude of sharks, you need to be very careful on your wave selection. Not a place to try new stuff. A very long way from medical care. Just grab rail and watch the reef fly by.
There was this one spot, ****** Island, that sits in the middle of a pass between two long skinny islands, a bit south of Elbow Cay. It juts out of the crystal clear aqua and turquoise water about thirty feet in elevation, all green and lush. There is a right that peels off the north tip of the rock, and empties into the Bay of Abaco.
On the right day at the right tide, it goes off about two feet overhead. The initial drop is sketchy, over shallow reef and in front of exposed rocks. Once you make the first section, it goes hollow and you can get fully shacked with the super colorful reef just below, whizzing by like a blur of candy. Then it goes into deeper water and you can cutback into the last section before you get into the channel, all deep blue. Palm trees line the inner beach where the boat is laying in the white crushed coral sand. Ice cold Kalik Golds await in the cooler, and nassau and black grouper are on ice waiting for the grill to get hot. It's not hacking through the jungle, and it probably has been surfed a few times, but on that day it was Paradise discovered.
Good stuff man, you paint a beautiful picture for sure. That sounds incredible, unless you fall or get worked at the wrong spot over the reef or into those rocks, then it sounds terrible HAHA
The chanting from the Buddhist temple across the street rouses me from where I sit, sleep/baking under the tropical morning sun in the alcoholic fumes from the previous night's libations. I had spent what was left of the night--and some of the morning--sleeping on a sand-filled traffic bumper, but at least it was the bumper right outside the "hotel" where my boards were. Hadn't made it back into my rented bed, but, hey, at least I got close close.
The little beachfront party town of **n**n* on the southern tip of *a**a* is one of my favorite places in the whole wide world. Every kind of bar; from a converted VW parked on the side of the road, to a wooden plank affair steps from the water, a hopping night market from dusk till the earlies, tons of domestic tourist girls out to have some fun, and a coastline so convoluted that it is always offshore, 85 degrees, and firing somewhere.
So, a streetside green-onion pancake, a "fried emperor", and a liter of tea later, I am feeling human enough to gather up the posse and resume the typhoon swell chase.
We roll into the parking lot of the fishing harbor and piled out; a string of tanned surfers cutting through the throngs of locals and tourists clustering around the huge concrete edifice of the harborside fishmarket. One of our crew haggles with an old man while the blue but kinda oily harbor water swells tiredly against the concrete piers. I know enough of the language to hire a dinghy, but not enough to explain to the craggy fisherman the idea that we want to go to the reef and get out of the boat, rather than pull fish into it.
A few minutes later we're clear of the breakwaters and growling our way toward the reef, leaving a trail of blue two-stroke smoke behind us as we glide over a undulating mirror of tropical glass. We're grinning like idiots at each other because holy crap is it going to be epic! We can see it from here; a perfect peeling line rolling along the shoals in front of green-carpeted mountain. It is dead calm and sweaty weather even in nothing but board shorts and rashys.
We don't bother waiting for the boat to stop, everybody just tosses their gear overboard and jumps. I'm last out. As the only booger, I get to shepherd the beater log and the cooler we leash to it. The ocean is like a glass coffee table with our gear and crew scattered across it. The old man motors off into the distance. Later when I come back to the log to reapply sunscreen, milk tea, and a nip of suntory, I'll catch a glimpse of him with his nets and lines out and care about what he's doing as much as he does about us.
It's a short paddle to the peak with little spheres of water rolling in front of me with each stroke. Yes, it's epic. No, it's not All Time. The lines wrap into the reef pass much like at HT's. The first peak is a fast critical barrel and it's just a little better than Head High. If you make it out, the wave fizzles into deeper water. You can pump through this soft section, but then it's shallow and boily. Nice view of the reef, but a sketchy ride and even sketchier paddle back out if you get caught by the rest of the set.
Bigger sets mount up on a zag in the reef outside the soft section, with a nice slow workable face that shuts down whoever was riding down the line from first peak. It's a big drop, a couple of meaty carves on a well-overhead face, then it futzes out into a channel. The three + 1 of us bounce back and forth between that big clean face and the racetrack blue room.
Looking in across the reef and lagoon, there's not even a breath of air to turn the two giant wind turbines next to the nuke plant squatting under the jungle-carpeted mountain. When I look back, there's a hump on the horizon that looks a lot like... yes, yes it is, an outside set breaking on 2nd reef. 2nd reef is 30 yards out from all of us. I've ridden it once. It starts out as a gorgeous drainer sucking out over the reef waay up the line, then it gets less and less critical with the barrel going from square to round to almond to foamball on the right swell. We all watch it peel off, mouths agape, and get mowed down by the whitewash. We're having an incredible aquarium fishtank session but every one of us stops to mindsurf that awesome wave. It breaks again, 30 minutes later, but the tide is rising and the swell is hitting it's peak. We're well inside the southernmost limb of *a**a*, and what wraps into **n**n* is not going to get any bigger. It doesn't break again.
We empty the cooler and the [white guys at least] all burn to a crisp. Hours later, red-eyed and thoroughly pickled we wave back the fisherman heft ourselves into a boat now full of his flopping smelly catch, and motor back to the harbor. Heck of a day. Not a breath of air all day long. Amidst the squirting mussels and buzzing flies of the tourist fishmarket, we get a huge plate of sushi over plastic-covered ice, everybody happily shell-shocked and zoned out. It will take the rush of glucose and hydration of a string of slurpees from the islands ubiquitous mini-marts to rouse us out of our torpor and prepare us for another night and day in **n**n*.
Its a hell of a town on a hell of an island anytime, but with a typhoon swell running, it's heaven on earth!