Nearly every day, two local kids watch me surf. I wave to them from the water, and they wave back.

I think Gregory and Thomas are happy that I have adopted them as my beach buddies. If I lose my board in the surf and have to swim for it, they are there as my surfboard caddies.

Big smiles on their ten-year-old faces as they retrieve the board for me.

I know they want to try surfing, so another couple of surf addicts are in the making.

I do eventually decide to take them under my wing and introduce them to the good life.

We walk out into the ocean as far as we can go without their heads going under, and each takes a turn with the surfboard.

When one is settled on top, I push the board toward the beach and watch each attempt to stand upright in the whitewater.

They are getting their balance down fairly fast. We are having lots of fun, and we share lots of laughs.

I have met their parents and the rest of their large families. Good people.

Recently, Thomas has started bringing his little seven-year-old sister, Carlota, to the beach with him.

It is understood that the children take care of each other around here.

We all make sure Carlota is safe and amused on the sand. She wants her turn on the surfboard soon.

On the weekends, Thomas and his family go about ten kilometers north to his uncle’s banana farm, and upon their arrival, they spend a couple of days helping their extended family work the farm.

The boys tell me I should accompany the family and go surfing at the beach near the property.

These kids don’t know a lot about waves and how a setup might look for good surfing, but they are enthusiastic and think I’ll tag along some weekend.

Never Say “No” to a Surf Escapade

This sounds like a grand sojourn, so I agree to the escapade. One never knows, maybe there is “the secret surf spot” just ten kilometers away.

And I am looking forward to spending more time with the family, as these folks are gracious, and I feel comfortable among them.

There is a road that connects our town to where the banana farm lies.

I wouldn’t really call it a road; it’s more of a washed-out path through the jungle that is hardly wide enough to accommodate the bus.

Because of the heat, I am glad there are no windows on the bus, just seats and a canopy roof.

The trip is long and bumpy. I can’t believe the family makes this journey almost every weekend!

We are all very happy when we jump off the bus in a quiet part of the jungle. We all grab what needs to be carried.

Because my two new surf caddies are gung-ho about their new surf life, my surfboard is a source of necessity for the boys to carry.

Consequently, I make sure it is under my arm so as not to get banged around.

After a short walk, we come upon a clearing, and there, I view the beginning of the banana orchard.

Acres and acres of banana plants cultivate the area. I see why this is a family-run operation!

Thomas’s father and his brother (the boy’s uncle) have been working the farm for many years, and they seem to make a good living from their hard work.

They are far from rich, but compared to many people in this country, they do well.

Everyone greets me warmly, and we all have a small bite of food before the family turns to work.

I offer my assistance, but I am their guest, and they wouldn’t think of having me get involved. They insist that I explore the beach.

Carlota, the perfect seven-year-old hostess, grabs my hand to escort me.

A couple of her young cousins accompany us. I am the new kid on the block, and they are thrilled to have me here.

We don’t walk too far till we hear the sound of the surf.

This is a sound that always makes me feel correct and focused. This sound is ingrained in me and in most surfers.

I expect to soon see another endless beach break with closeout waves pounding the sand.

But maybe, with some luck, there will be sandbars to break up whatever waves hit this coast.

A Secluded Surfer’s Dream Wave Waiting for Me

We walk through a small opening in the trees and spot the surf.

My jaw drops as I look out upon a small right point! Lines of well-groomed waves are wrapping around a headland, and chest-high waves are spinning with power all across the point!

Carlota and her cousins take to playing in the sand. The children look up ever so often to see what’s going on.

They don’t understand what I feel, but they can tell that something important is happening!

I am smiling as I paddle out. This is a warm tropical point with surf that is good enough for any dream.

I am out here all by myself, and it feels like Christmas!

The waves are consistent and down the line. A quick take-off, and then I’m carving turns along the face of the wave to stay just ahead of each section.

Some of the waves get totally round and expand into tubes that are sweet and tight. I can’t believe the luck! What a place!

After a while, I notice that Thomas and Gregory are on the beach with the other kids.

We acknowledge each other with a big wave! I can’t wait to thank the boys for encouraging me to come along!

All the children eventually head back to the farm.

I surf for another solid hour. No other humans in sight. I am just by myself at a perfect little surf spot.

Really good waves take on a whole different perspective in a surfer’s life.

Maybe it is the combination of the physical workout and the chemical reaction of pumping the blood through the mind that ignites the endorphins, but this type of surf session puts one in a spiritual state of consciousness.

Naming Before Cashing

Right now, I am flying high! Riding a well-shaped wave has the opposite feeling of riding a bland, poor wave.

It feels good to be in the ocean in any type of surf, but quality surf takes on more of a cosmic nature.

Here, I am trying to explain it, and it can’t be explained; it has to be lived.

In just a couple of hours of surfing this secret spot, I have ridden more waves than I have ridden in a month!

What a consistent, picture-perfect surf spot to call my own. No, I don’t own it, but I can make-believe!

I will ask if there is a name for this point. Most everywhere around here has been christened with some title, and that is usually a saint’s name.

Maybe I will name the surf spot Lorenzo’s Point? That doesn’t sound appropriate at all!

I am just a guest here on their land, and I don’t have the birthright to call it my own.

Should I call it Thomas’s or just Tom’s Point? I have a grand proposal. I will call it Carlota’s! Yes, that has a nice ring to it, Point Carlota!

Through the decades of embellished surf stories, surfers will make adventurous journeys to ride the waves at the infamous point, identified as Carlota’s.

The tales will grow out of proportion, and someday, someone will put a surf camp here at Point Carlota.

They will buy or lease the point, put up a small hotel, hire the locals to cook and clean, and charge people $4,000 a week to ride the waves that break here.

They will run stories in the surf magazines, using spectacular images of dreamy, perfect waves! Bought, sold, and f**ked!

I am laughing as I walk back to Thomas’s family and the afternoon’s meal preparation. I hope they let me lend a hand with the task.

Words by Lorenzo Lago | Surfer, Poet, and Author of the Book “Journey”