“This is what brings fame to Sayulita,” the concierge chimed as he pointed north over the pacific ocean. Water brimming to and fro on the sand, “Huh, ‘fame’ I thought, barely noticing a peak of formation, no wonder I never heard of it. No one ever bragged to me about Sayulita.
I have spent years in Europe, not chasing surf breaks, I grew up in California, I know a surf break when I see one and have chatted about many around the world. This however was an interesting comment.

As I’d learn over my week in Sayulita as one settles small things begin to creep up in ones vision. What may start as dusty, faded color, and rickety grows into charming cobbled stone streets, where locals and the adventurous walk barefoot, a color so kissed by the sun it has faded into subdued beauty and chairs threaded by craftsmen on the other side of town. It creeps on you. When you can’t help it any longer, the quiet beach side town starts to feel yours. As you pass the same people, the same shop, pharmacy, restaurant over and over, who wouldn’t feel a sense of ownership in an 8 street town ?

Simple pleasures, not a puffed up chest but the knowledge of gaining ones foothold, a sense of direction, knowingness brings pride. Imagine the last time you were in New York City, London, or Los Angles for that matter and you went ‘Ah-ha!’ I know what direction I’m going. Simple pleasures. They creep on you.

Faded colors began to brighten as I walked the quite morning streets, distant squawks from the tree canopy reminded me of a jungle I’d always wanted to explore, as I made my way to the white sands of the beach.

In town, the beach part of it, lounges are being pulled out at 7am, while the morning surf crowd has barely warmed up, a few knowing the peace of the morning swell catch waves that seem to roll on forever. “Huh, ‘fame,’ I thought.
Each step I took, my feet dug deeper into the thick sand on my way to the quieter end of the white sand, palm lined beach. I watched the waves roll one by one, traversing length wise towards the northern beach just across where the river meets the ocean.
Funny thing I noticed, gold, glimmering in throughout this mini estuary. Gold in the water, too miniscule to pan, pick, or even feather yet it shines in the sun giving hope to every step. “Huh, ‘Fame’ I thought.

Over the days I would return to the same walk, same time as well as other parts of the day. Its hard not to be on the beach here. Its 82F and humid in April, one must get in the ocean, sit under an umbrella, have a refresher or 4 and check this wave.

Hour after Hour, Day after Day, I observed such a consistent wave, peaking, pushing and rolling at least 70 meters, where long and short boards milk every moment they can out of mother natures provisions. No one minds if there are 4 others surfers on the wave, its a simple beauty. Long boarders have all the time to manuver, spin, dance and flail throughout each graceful wave. Shortboards pump for speed, catching lip, spinning and pumping again into the final push.
I wondered how the locals stay so calm amidst bustling visitors, tourists, and travelers(yes, all different categories to me) frolicking throughout their town everyday. It came to the wave

A sense of calm reigns over everyone in this town, not due to its 8 streets in the southern part of town but because just like riding the wave, at some point everyone is going to get their chance. Huh, ‘Fame’ I thought.