After an overnight bus trip in todos cama (full bed) I arrived at ‘the Duke’ holstel in Pacasmayo in Northern Peru. Gene, Sunny and their champ mate Yarsha met me as I walked in (I had met Sunny and Gene in Cusco, they had befriended the boys in Arica). Aussie Gene was and absolute champ, he is from a big surfing family and his brother is world famous body-board champion Ryan Hardy, poor bugger (jokes). Gene was staring down the barrel (excuse the pun) of a professional career as a body-boarder when he was eighteen but decided to take the hard road and took up stand up surfing. Suitably, he is one of the best tube riders I have ever seen and rips every drop of water out of anything resembling a wave. Sunny is a lovely, friendly, good surfing chick from the England and Gene’s Esposa (wife). Americano Yarsha rules the lens and the thruster, taking heaps of photos throughout our trip. His awe inspiring photo’s and words can be found in the surf magazine ’The Surfers Path’ and others.

I was told to get my wetty on and get amongst it ’cause It was pumping! So at six in the morning after an all night bus ride I was out at amazing lefthanders that rifled of for hundreds of meters, bueno!
I was there for about a week and after surfing for hours one day, was struck down with illness and was unable to get out of bed. Sunny was going through the same thing and Gene looked after both of us, buying water and dispensing medical advice and buckets of pills. While laying helplessly in my dull little room, I was subjected to all the noises of the street and vowed to take revenge on the guy with the whistle who had tormented me all day and all night… Turns out he was the security guard vigilante who looks after the place and the whistle was to warn potential robbers that he was about and not to mess with this area. Needless to say, I still threw a banana at him.

So it was back on the bus for another overnight run North with the Gene, Sunny and Yarsha crew. Our bed bus was cancelled and down-graded to a normal bus and one of the worst rides followed. Half way through the bus ride, what seemed like a hundred people climbed aboard and took up every nook and cranny of the crappy autobus. I had to jump off for a quick run to the worst toilet in South America and when I got back on squeezed back to half of my seat. I didn’t sleep from then on because every time I dozed, one of the million Peruvians would nudge be back to the land on the living trying to wriggle into comfort. We arrived in dusty Mancora and quickly grabbed a taxi to nearby Lobitos where I have spent the last eight days. The surf has cracked (surprise, surprise!) and I have ridden some of the best backside tubes of my lacklustre backhand tube riding career. The boys arrived with tales of massive waves (have a look at Seano's wave) and broken boards, floating Bolivian Islands and Karaoke kings. We enjoyed top conditions and great sessions but the good run ceased to a holt and now we wait for more swell.

So here we are in a tiny dustbowl desert town resembling a scene from a Tarantino film, entertaining ourselves with DVD’s and alcohol, biding our time for the next waves. The Vultures circle, the locals stare and there isn’t a shower in sight. Seano even rigged up some makeshift fishing gear and attempted to fish off the local jetty with the aid of several interested locals. No luck yet but we’ll let you know.
Burto was stung by a sting ray during his world title bodysurfing bid and was rushed to the local doc for an injection in his ass continuing his injury woes. Pie is just cruising, talking about a mission through Cambodia and wondering where he put his flack jacket…

Emerson

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