Little slice of heaven.

There have been far too many places in Mexico that make me feel like I have died and gone to heaven. This little 'island' in the south was no exception. A few bus changes and a ride in a collectivo led us to a boat ramp. From there, we were began our journey into the lagoon that separates this magical place from the rest of the world. Weaving through a thin path created in between the mangroves was a truly incredible experience. To my side I could see the mangrove forest in all it's glory, with it's inhabitants of too many different species of bird to name or count. Local villagers slowly making their way through the trees could be seen just before disappearing amongst the patterns of green and brown, hardly making a sound and the only reminder of there presence a ripple effect in the water. Evidence of a much simpler life,  one of fishing and living off the land.  

 Toward the end of our boat ride the lagoon reached the ocean, with an audience of hundreds upon hundreds off birds enjoying the calm, the abundant supply of fish and it seemed almost the freedom of being able to fly, sitting there in the boat I was almost envious of them as they showed off, flying and twirling through the air, racing next to our boat with such ease and beauty. It is from here that the 'island ' came into view, and to be honest I couldn't have imagined it any more perfect. Small thatched huts lined the beautiful beach and a powerful right hand wave peeled perfectly along the sandbar. The wave breaks like a machine, a big (not to mention heavy) barrelling section at the start, after which a speedy wall would be waiting for you for a few hundred metres.  

The little 'makeshift' bridge to our room. Very sketchy, especially with a surfboard in hand and a two story drop that didnt look to inviting, the way it would creak as you walked across definately didn't help ease any fears.

 The locals were amazing, and the few travellers who had made this place their temporary home were inspirational and not to mention entertaining. Days were spent surfing, eating an after surf brunch, normally 'huevos a la mexicana' (eggs mexican style my personal favourite) and sleeping on a hammock for a few hours to the sound of the crashing waves and hiding from the scorching midday sun. After this we'd be surfing again until the sun said goodbye and we could do it all again the following day. Nights were spent on the beach under the thousands of starts that lit up the sky, listening to the sounds of voice, guitar and bongo drums.  This really was a place where you became accustomed to doing nothing, learning to enjoy life simply, to take it slow- the locals really had mastered this.

Morning views from the room.

It was a place to hard to leave, but after a few barrels and amazing waves I could force myself to go knowing that I would definitely be back. 

Our way home, briefly stopped by a busted tire and a little waiting time in the middle of nowhere.