Two Epic Days at Chicama, Puerto Malabrigo: Surfing the World’s Longest Wave
Day 0: Nightfall Arrival and First Impressions
Evening: Checking into Chicama Surf House
As I arrived in Puerto Malabrigo (now colloquially ‘Chicama’) at night, the air smelled of salt and promise. My lodgings for this adventure were at the Chicama Surf House, a cozy, surf-centric hotel overlooking the legendary ocean that houses the world’s longest wave. My room had an ocean view that promised golden sunrises over an azure canvas. Sleep was elusive; anticipation for the following day took over.
Day 1: The Maiden Surf
Morning: Catching the First Wave
Waking up to an ocean view is one thing; waking up to the world’s longest surfable wave is another. While eating breakfast downstairs, I struck up a conversation with another guy there who was on a reunion surf trip with some other buddies. They had all been surfing there for the last 4 days, but with a pretty minor swell of only 2-3 feet. Eager to go out and get out there, I waxed up my board and we all headed down to the beach.
The waves at Chicama wrap around a rocky point break and sweep down the long stretch of sandy beach that follows. On the perfect swell you can connect all of the sections and it turns into a leg-scorching 2.5 mile wave. Only the first of four sections was breaking while I was there, but it still made for plenty of minute+ rides; a lifetime compared to the waves back home.
The waves were mushy, but lengthy, offering plenty of time to get acquainted with an unfamiliar board and to practice my footwork after 6 months out of the water. During the day, there were only a couple other people in the water so we kept snagging wave after wave, the only impediment was the powerful current that sucked past the point. If you weren’t paddling constantly, you were out of the peak position within 20 seconds. Tough first session back in the water.
Evening: A Convenient Lift
By evening, the current had picked up even more. Paddling back to the peak after riding each wave was a Herculean task, so we took the easy route. We paid a local man with a boat to pick us up after our long rides and ferry us back to the peak, as is customary out there. The price per person for 3 hours of surf taxi service: $15 USD. The evening session became not only more productive but infinitely more enjoyable.
Day 2: Pushing the Limits
Morning: The Perfect Dance
The morning session was a rough one. The swell had died down to 2-3 feet and I was beat from the double header the day before. I was out of practice so my arms, shoulders, and ribs were all hurting, but I made the journey all the way out there so I had to at least catch a few, regardless of the conditions.
Afternoon: Sharing the Stoke
We all met back up around lunch time and ventured out into the tiny town of Puerto Malabrigo. The town is roughly square and it takes no more than 15 minutes to walk from one end to the other. Most of the restaurants were open, but for some reason they were all empty and appeared closed even though it was a Friday during peak season. Whenever we went into a restaurant, the owners always wanted to take pictures of us to post online, so my guess is that there are very few tourists that ever make it through there.
Evening: The Fine Rides
We chartered the boat (dingy?) again for the evening session thankfully because I don’t think I would have made it out without it. Also, the swell had picked up a bit and the waves were hollowing out at the point. I’m not sure if it was the Inka Cola at lunch or the impending dread of having to leave, but I was on fire for this session. I caught around 25 waves and got more combined wave ride time than I had in the last couple of years in San Diego. My right tricep turned into a painful limp noodle around the 10th wave, but I just kept on surfing, knowing that I would be paying the price later. (It ended up taking over a month to heal). After every wave, our trusty boatman was there to pick us up and ferry us back to the peak, ensuring we squeezed every last drop out of Chicama’s magic. As the sun prepared to call it a day, so did we—but not before one last ride.
Day 3 Recap: It’s Not Goodbye, It’s See You Later
As I packed my bags and took one last longing look at the ocean from my room at the Chicama Surf House, I knew I was going to miss this place. Until next time, Chicama. 🤙🌊
Surf’s up dude! 🤙🏼