Coastal Strike Mission
Issue 17 / Mon 4th Sep, 2023
Brandon’s tale of adventure & risk will have you on the edge of your seat.
Riding in offshore conditions was a mind-expanding experience. I could not believe that it was working, and it made my love for winging deepen. Without the risk of failure, you cannot possibly achieve success.
When you actually line up all the cards and arrive at your location to see perfect conditions, you often can’t even take it all in. It’s almost as if its perfection cast doubt in your mind about your reality. Surely it can’t be this good, your mind says, but your very experience verifies its existence. Much as an oasis must at first seem a mirage to a dehydrated desert wanderer. Perfectly out of place… I’ve had the special pleasure of experiencing a lot of what I like to call on.com conditions. Turns out, when your life’s only mission is to chase world-class conditions, you get lucky every now and again and score flawless perfection. The swell is just the perfect angle, period, and size. The wind is offshore, just the perfect angle and speed. The tide and weather all aligning, everything locking into place….magic bliss.
The thing about chasing perfection though, as you well know, you rarely often succeed. Surely that makes those times you do extra special, however, it also solidified in me that the reward is not only worth the chase, but the next chase too, and even the one after that. You have to be willing to risk it all, to win it all. Whether that’s your own time, gallons of gas, gear, or your body….there is always a cost to pay to play. In our particular case, the cost was well worth the reward. Just a little skin on the reef and all of our wings traded for two days of flawless conditions.
And so we can begin the tale of our little Baja adventure, chasing one of those “perfect” sessions deep into the unknown. As with any good story let’s start with the cast. While the allure of riding perfect conditions is amazing, it’s still surprisingly hard to convince people to go on a massive strike mission. Especially, when the end result is an unknown. It takes a certain type of person with just the right amount of passion to see that little chance of success amongst all the effort invested. Luckily, our Slingshot wing family is filled with just such individuals. First is the man with the plan Wyatt Miller, head ring leader, shredder extraordinaire. It was his motivation and resources that even made this trip possible. In addition to Wyatt’s involvement at Slingshot he also runs Pro Windsurf La Ventana, an all-inclusive windsurf and wingfoiling resort in Southern Baja. This facility/base of operations allows us the support and access to much-needed strike mission supplies. Baja road capable rigs, camping gear, jet ski, quads, and all the other key items you need to pull off a remote shooting mission.
Next, is the man with the iron quads and the steady trigger finger, Eric Duran. Not only is Eric always down for a big out-of-the-way mission, but he also will spend all day swimming in the pumping surf in the hopes of scoring one photo. His passion, drive, and work ethic were essential to the group's success. Multi-media capable, if Eric was not swimming, he had the drone in the air or was running up and down the beach gathering the scraps of the gear after the “talent” got too aggressive on the shred.
The final member of the crew was Wyatt's good friend Bryan Metcaf-Perez. Bryan is a phenomenal wind and Watersport athlete and shows no fear in the face of large ocean conditions. I have had the pleasure of traveling with Bryan several times, and there is no one else I would rather be chasing conditions with. He is motivated, reliable, good in a pinch, one hell of a Jetski driver, and will always push to the point of breaking all the gear. You can always count on Bryan to put it all on the line for the shot.
With the cast assembled we only needed the stage, and boy oh boy did we ever find a good one. Scoring good wave conditions in Baja can be a bit hit or miss. The natural diurnal cycle of the weather often means the development of an afternoon seabreeze. This onshore flow quickly turns a world-class wave, into a big crumbly mess. This wave in particular only really comes to life in strong offshores. Not only does the wind groom the swell as it comes into the reef, it also helps hold up the lip, making the wave much more rippable. Having some component of offshore wind is actually ideal for winging, keeping the wing behind you while you ride down the face. Luckily for us, the wind forecast associated with this particular swell event was showing a large El Norte system settling in, keeping the breeze steady and straight offshore.
While this little unit of shredders have had the pleasure of winging all over the world, in a wide variety of wave and wind conditions, we have never been presented with such an offshore angle to the direction of the wave. As the long bumpy ride down the dirt road neared its end, and we got our first look at the conditions in the ocean all we could see is windblown white mist blowing off the lips of the breaking waves. Near-perfect conditions for traditional surfing, left us wondering if winging would even be possible. However, long before we could consider the conditions, we needed to get base camp established and find a sheltered location to launch the jet ski. Nothing like trying to set up a tent when you can’t keep your eyes off the pumping conditions, fully locked in froth mode.
After a hasty camp setup and a quick search of the coastline, we were able to locate a somewhat sheltered location to put the ski in. The team jumped into action, dropped the ski in the water, and decided we would head up to the wave, located a few miles north of the campground. As we arrived a little later in the day than intended, it always takes longer to get all the parts in order before leaving, we had no intention of shooting that first evening. We did however want to take a look at the conditions, suss out water safety plans, figure out how we were going to get Eric two miles up the rugged coastline, and maybe, just maybe whip into a few waves with the foils. I drew the lucky card to ride the foil up to the wave, while Bryan drove and Wyatt and Eric assaulted the shoreline. The ride up was pretty uneventful until we got to the wave and I saw that little grin on Bryan's face. A massive set wave was lining up on the point, and Bryan decided that he was going to put me in the spot, forcing me to choose… It is always a good idea to have a look at the wave, watch the sets, and see where you should and shouldn’t go. It’s never really a good idea to get over frothed and make rash decisions. All this is going through my head as we approached the peak and in the end, I just couldn’t resist. I dropped the rope, pulled onto the swell, and took one of the most memorable down-the-line foil rides I have had the pleasure of experiencing. I’m sure some of it was situational, the novelty of pulling up to flawless conditions with just your friends, but the reeling green wall of that first wave is seared into my brain. By the time Wyatt and Eric were able to get the quad up the beach Bryan and I were tow foil drunk, filled to the brim with joy and stoke. We traded places with the ground crew, so everyone could have some fun, packed a few waves as the sun set, and headed back toward camp. We knew we had a few big days ahead of us and we would need all the rest we could get.
We awoke the next morning to the cacophony of the pounding ocean. The swell had finally decided to show its true face. What we thought were set waves the night before had just been the first front runners of the swell. It was easily a good 4 ft bigger on the sets, and to be honest I was a bit worried about what I was getting myself into. As I said before, Bryan has little to no heavy water fear, and this set the tone for the days shredding. It’s not easy to back off when your friend is putting more meat on the line. What was a somewhat straightforward ski launch the night before, was quite spicy in the am. So a fair bit of the morning's energy went into getting the ski out past the breaking waves. Once the ski was out, it was just a simple matter of paddling out the foil setup in maxing surf. After several attempts, I was able to get a window to scratch out and meet Brian on the ski. Wyatt and Eric would be taking the overland route to the point for the land shooting angle. After my hectic paddle out, I happily opted to tow Brian up to the point for the first rides of the day.
Upon our arrival, we were greeted with the sight you hope for when on such a strike mission. Perfectly aligned, clean, reeling walls of water breaking down the rocky point. Brian gave me the proper signals, and I positioned him on a set wave, hard edge, and off he went on a screamer of a wave. Upon pickup further down the line, Brian was giddy with excitement for the days shredding. While it sure was fun to whip into immaculate waves, we were there to wing. We drove out to the outside and began getting the wings pumped up. The whole time we are pumping up wings I am assessing the conditions. Huge waves, nearly straight offshore wind, somewhat patchy/gusty. I wasn’t really all that sure that it was going to work and with all the exposure, I wasn’t that excited about the idea of getting worked in large waves with the sharp foils. However, Brian was more than confident that it would work and was in the water before I knew it.
While it was windy, the rugged and undulating Baja coastline made for pockets of wind on the surface of the water. Additionally up the face of each set wave was a bubble of apparent wind created by the movement of the wave through the air. This ended up being a critical aspect of why the session ended up being so much more than a novelty session. Thanks to the ski, even in the lightest winds we can water start with the wing. Simply hold onto the rope, get up and foiling, edge off the rope, and finally start actually winging. So I got Brian started on the foil and whipped him into the first wave. He rode the wave all the way down the point, kicked out, and just started winging. Thanks to the small bubbles of apparent wind we were able to essentially keep extending the rides. You would get up, get onto a wave, and ride that wave down the point but into the wind/upwind. Then you would kick out at the end of the wave, and slowly start working your way back out to the point/downwind following the puffs of wind all around the lineup. Essentially using the wave shredding as a conveyer belt to take you upwind. So, what started as a quick way to get us up and riding and possibly wing a few connected waves, ended up being one of the most memorable wing wave sessions of my winging career. Trading perfect clean waves with friends in the middle of nowhere, I couldn’t stop asking myself if this was really happening. Over the next few hours, we traded off on wave after wave, trying to capture some amazing collaterals without putting too much on the line.
As with most shoots, Brian eventually gets that crazy look in his eyes, tees off on the biggest set of the day, and gets absolutely obliterated by the lip of the breaking wave. Gear explodes everywhere, wing leash breaks, board leash breaks. Brian goes over the falls with the foil, and gets hit in the forehead with the board. The wing, the board, and Brian wash up onto the rocky beach in tatters. Mayhem ensues and we decided to pull the plug for the day. Which still means getting back down to camp, getting the ski back onto land, and getting much-needed calories. Everything you could ever hope for in a great strike mission. Carnage, spoils, good laughs, struggles, and massive wins with great friends!
By Brandon Scheid