My best guy friend, Lance, served his mission in Peru. We grew up surfing together, water ballooning cars together...you know, normal best friend stuff. When he was gone for the two years, we wrote letters back and forth and he sent one letter I'll never forget. He said:
"K8 the longest left in the world is in my mission, you have to go."
"K8 the longest left in the world is in my mission, you have to go."
For anyone who doesn't surf, you could probably care less about that statement. For me, it's the holy grail. I grew up surfing with the boys and I'm what they call "goofy foot"... it just means I surf with my right foot forward. Left foot forward is "regular", apparently the surf gods decided to discriminate. Most breaks in California are a right break, meaning goofy foot people like me are almost always surfing backside. It's a a little annoying but I never really cared, surfing is surfing. I learned how to surf when I was just a young-in and I have been hooked ever since. It still is beyond me how I got involved in a WINTER SPORT.
So.
This letter, apparently the wave he is talking about it is 2 km long. That's a 4 minute long ride. Are you drooling yet? I instantly started researching and found out this sacred place is called Chicama. Google it right now. When the waves are firing, it truly goes on and on and on. It's what I like to call, in the purest sense of the word, perfection. So when Heidi told me to meet up with her in South America, I had one demand. Chicama.
This letter, apparently the wave he is talking about it is 2 km long. That's a 4 minute long ride. Are you drooling yet? I instantly started researching and found out this sacred place is called Chicama. Google it right now. When the waves are firing, it truly goes on and on and on. It's what I like to call, in the purest sense of the word, perfection. So when Heidi told me to meet up with her in South America, I had one demand. Chicama.
So coming from Ecuador, we flew in from the Galápagos to meet our mom in Lima. We convinced her to join us on this adventure but we had one rule: she wasn't allowed to plan anything. Kathie takes planning to the max so we told her to just get a hostel in Lima when she arrived before us, we don't need a Marriott, just a place to sleep. She took our instructions to the next level and booked a place in the ghetto of Lima. Like...bars on the window. Beautiful daughters of God working the corners at 3 am. Our taxi driver kept saying, "why did she choose this area? Tell her I know safer place". We showed up and saw this piece of paper taped to the wall, "Kurmi Hostal". Ok Kathie. This place looked straight out of Taken. We knocked on the metal door and there's Kathie coming down the stairs wearing her shirt "OH DONUT EVEN". Found her. She was intact and didn't even get mugged.
We caught a flight the next morning to a bus and we drove out into the desert to find this tiny, dirt road town. It was honestly in the middle of nowhere and I was starting to think this Chicama place was a mean lie. We pulled up to see barely any people on the street and we had a mototaxi take us to a hostel on the cliff looking over the break. I thought I was going to cry when I first saw it.
I paddled out the next morning and although there wasn't a swell, I still caught some of the longest waves in my life. You couldn't wipe that goofy smile off my face for the rest of the day.