At Least the Waves are Good

There were high expectations for Escondido. All the rumors about the nightlife, beach sluts, party drugs, and free spirits had me excited.

Turns out–I arrived 12 hours too late. The day before was the end of a week long surf competition and when that finished, the crowds left. Scant girls.

And I mean very scant, I was out the past two nights and found exactly one set of mediocre mamacitas. Instead of running game, I did the next best thing–befriended some local old dudes.

Opening guys is pretty easy. Just find one or a couple of men who look like they know what’s up and say “Hey, where are all the girls at?” This usually begins a fun conversation. It’s how I met an old ex-pat with a long beard and cowboy hat. We chatted about the state of women in the U.S. He was naturally red-pilled and laughed and laughed and then felt sorry when he heard about the state of American women. We proceeded to get excruciatingly drunk off of mezcal and smoked some Mexican schwag.

When there are no girls around, I would normally make my way to another part of the country, but this is Puerto and the waves here are the finest I have ever seen. The water is bathtub warm and the waves don’t stop. Sitting out on my board, I see fish jumping through the air, birds coming torpedoing down from 50 feet up to eat the fish, and an incredibly strong sun to bask in.

The first time I went out, I was in over my head. The 10 foot wave broke faster than I expected and the crest slammed into my back. I came crashing chest first into my board and the wind came right out. With no breath, I got sucked under the water and was flipped around like a sock in a washer for a good 30 seconds. I thought that was going to be it and toward the end it was pretty zen and I just listened to the sound. The surfboard brought me back to the surface and I held on to that lifesaver like a lover.

In another part of the beach, the waves are just a bit smaller and just right. There is nothing in the world comparable to surfing. Riding a moving mountain of water at 25mph is thrilling, butter smooth, and rewarding.

The ocean doesn’t forgive, she can swallow and destroy at any time so your wits need to be about in every moment.

Surfers are natural players. Your attitude has to be not-give-a-fuck in order to deal with the waves. The confidence from riding overhead waves that could kill the inexperienced gets ingrained deep. It’s a full body exercise that keeps you toned. The salt water makes your skin smoother, eyes brighter and hair thicker. The sun turns you bronze. Women go crazy for surfers…it’s just a shame they are not around right now.

About Goldmund

Goldmund grew up a wild-child and was constantly being disciplined. Using ancient rituals and game, he broke free from the shackles of his mind and the norms of this backwards society. He frequents bars in Brooklyn, mountains in Mexico, and retreats to the desert. His passions are nature and women.

6 comments on “At Least the Waves are Good

  1. Hey, its Xpat from the Roosh forum. Sad to see you go, I missed a lot of your posts. However, I will start reading your blog regularly. Sad to see optimists and value-adders such as yourself get kicked out while the dregs get to stay.


  2. Keep up the good work..seems to me your blog is a valuable piece of the GAME puzzle we’re all trying to complete…Really liked your Airport Game piece…too bad you need a ticket to game at the airport!

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