gregalder.com

ISLA NATIVIDAD
By Greg Alder
(Transworld Surf, May 2003)

A trip into Baja is a rite of passage for the Californian surfer, like an adolescent in Tanzania being sent to hunt down his first antelope. The day a surfer returns from his initial south-of-the-border expedition without adult supervision, he has graduated from “gromhood.” Further, if that Baja journey was to Isla Natividad, or “Christmas Island,” then he has certainly experienced all of the best and worst things in a Mexican adventure.

If you go by road, then after crossing the border and making your way through the maze of streets in Tijuana, the landscape begins to open up. Beyond Ensenada, you’re really in Baja. The desert expands and the highway gets lonely.

Through the twelve-hour drive, more than the cacti and road signs are foreign—Baja is, after all, part of Mexico. And though California is deeply influenced by its southern neighbor, Mexico truly is a different country. You can try out what you were supposed to have learned in high school Spanish class. Taste how different Mexican food is down there, and even try using their currency, the peso.

Use pesos to pay for the boat ride across the channel. When the road ends at Punta Eugenia you can get a fisherman to take you over to the island in his panga for the right price. Just make sure and hold on to your boards (and stomach, for that matter) as you bounce through the swells on your way to that floating sliver of land in the distance. The wind and ocean spray will pelt you constantly during the half-hour ride.

“It sure looks barren,” you notice as you approach. It’s also small (about four miles long by one wide). The boat drops you near the village where a few hundred fishermen, lobstermen, and their families live.

Actually, there is an easier way to Isla Natividad: by small plane. In fact, many who fly in don’t even realize it’s possible to drive and boat there. Even flying in, however, isn’t as smooth as it may sound. The same northwest winds that provide offshore waves blow sideways across the dirt landing strip, making for an exciting touch down.

At the end of the landing strip is where you’ll find what you came for—tubing waves. Nowhere do offshore winds define (and sometimes over-define) the surf like on Natividad. The swells that break over the sand-bottomed shoreline are groomed into heaving peaks, and the best wave on the island wraps around a sand point to the north—a running barrel. It’s wise to bring a backup stick because it’s shallow and the hard sand bottom is unforgiving.

Like much of Baja, the water’s chillier than north of the border. But don’t sweat getting on it at dawn. You’ll be surfing the east side of the island (facing the mainland), so everything’s reversed. This means that mornings are actually onshore, and the rest of the day is offshore—a lazy surfer’s paradise.

You’ll wish you could spend your entire day in the water though. On land, gobs of flies and crawling bugs will turn you into a mental patient, dust from the incessant wind will cover everything, and the heat will bake you. Though the waves are heavenly, Isla Natividad truly is a wretched place to camp. Plenty of drinking water and a high level of tolerance are necessary to stay sane while on the beach.

Even centuries ago the Spaniards found Baja a harsh place. From the day they landed there, it took them over 150 years to finally get a permanent settlement down. But then, if this place wasn’t challenging it couldn’t be the vehicle by which a youngster grows up.