It was the summer of 1999 and I needed to plan a surf trip. My intent was to find an exotic place where my four friends and I could surf and hang out together. I looked into the typical places like the Fiji Islands, Bali, Costa Rica, Peru, Australia, Puerto Rico, etc. While doing a "Pacific Island Internet Search" I happened upon the "Island of Morro Negrito Surf Camp" and found cool pictures and a good description of the place. The cost ($500 +/- plus tips for camp workers) was much more reasonable than anything else I found and I was interested in the fact that it was new uncharted territory.

My friends and I (Four from San Francisco and one from Manhattan) are all in our 30's and really did not want the hassle of a bunch of kids and professionals to contend with. We all have surfed large surf, hurricane surf but none of us would consider ourselves polished surfers. We like to be in the water together, goof on each other and enjoy the environment. We were looking for the uncrowded lineup.

I contacted Steve Thompson, whose family is part owner of the Island of Morro Negrito off the North West coast of Panama. Steve was quite personable and did not hesitate to answer the questions and concerns I had. I asked Steve a lot of questions. The most important questions for my group centered around logistics, waves and accommodations. Steve explained that we would be dealing with almost 3rd world travel, waves that can be great and like anywhere have the potential (depending on weather) to be poor. Furthermore the accommodations are primitive yet if you consider the trip to be a camping trip your expectations should be fine. I do not mind rough hiking/camping situations so I found Steve's explanation of the place great since we were going to stay in concrete foundation, bamboo framed huts with coconut/palm tree branch roof systems. The food was said to be fine and served three times a day. Steve also offered many helpful suggestions related to airlines and gear.

We booked the airline ticket and sent Steve a deposit for a week in October 1999. Our plane ticket all ran $400 +/- and Steve's fee for transportation, food and accommodations was $500 + tips to employees (about $150 total +/-). My friends and I looked at it this way: about $1,000.00 +/- for a journey. We were stoked (to use an overly used and annoying expression).

We all arrived at the Airport in Panama with no problem. However, some of our gear did not make it including several board bags. We were obviously bummed but Steve and some of his friends/family/workers soon helped us with English translation and the airline said they would forward us our gear and Steve said he would make sure we got it when it arrived. I think the mistake we made was leaving on a Friday night and the airlines had to much gear to deal with and left it behind (Next time I will leave from San Francisco during the week). While at the airport, people were really friendly and expressed interest in where we were from. We ran into a couple of people who seemed to possibly dislike tourists or US citizens but that could have been my misperception. I enjoyed talking to some strangers in the small amount of Spanish I know and the people I ran across at the airport, in general, laughed and joked around with us. We all agreed to move onto the next leg of our journey which was to get in a van which would take us to a bus.

We helped load up the van (we are not of the mindset that we expect 3rd world slaves to do everything for us) and headed to the bus station. Once at the bus station, we realized that this was still a pretty much undeveloped place and we watched our gear and backs closely. This was my real taste of Panama and I romanticized everything. I welcomed the fact that, logistically, things were a little more difficult. I figured that if they were not that way every kook on the planet would be charging the place. Steve had already arranged for bus tickets. Our gear was loaded on, fairly carefully, underneath the bus, and we spent the next 5 or 6 hours heading north on an overly air-conditioned, but comfortable bus. It was dark outside, but I peered out the window and once in awhile I would catch a glimpse of the Jungle landscape which made me writhe with anticipation of what was in store for the next six days. I could also see valleys where thick meadows appeared like something chemically generated some 15 years early at a X party. I could, via my pensive stare into this flashing landscape, ponder a vision of "Planet of the Apes" soldiers readying their nets above to sweep through this grove with nets and catch unsuspecting beasts...the human. I could hear a shell horn blasting "UUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" Indeed, this land could have been traversed by Charlton Heston.

At about 4:30 AM we arrived at this tiny group of utilitarian structures which contained a small Cantina and a bus depot office. This place had Clint Eastwood written all over it. I was half expecting Tuco to come running out, guns blazing and yelling "Hey Blondy...you gonna go to the grave with the name of that soldier in your brrrraaaaain." I could see across the street another ambiguous Cantina which we immediately, used our imaginations, took for a drug smuggling outpost. I think this is the point where I thought I might find Che Guevara and join his roaming revolution. Steve went inside the (in our heightened imaginary state) "legitimate" Cantina, adjacent to station office, and was soon accompanied by a Panamanian woman who, through Steve asked if we wanted anything? We soon were eating delicious omelets and drinking splendid coffee which was grown in the hills across the street. I asked the nice lady how much the bill was and she told me $3.80. I asked "for one?" and replied; "Todos." I gave her $15 and she said "Too much, too much." I insisted she take it and felt moved.

At sunrise two vans came and picked up all 11 of us. We had others in our group now whom we met at the Airport. The group, at this point, consisted of my posse, two cool couples from Virginia and Maryland, Steve, owner/guide, and his friend "the accomplished nurse" Rick. We were in the van of a truly cool local of Northern Panama who was cranking his Panamanian tunes. His girlfriend/wife? sat beside him and they both gave us subdued yet curious stares. Everyone of my bunks can speak a little Spanish, except Kellam who insisted on always saying "Buenos Nachos" at every opportunity. He always got a laugh out of the Panamanians who, in addition, gave him a "you stupid friggin grindo" glance. Now, in the van, we were able to see full on huts, local agriculture, and clumps of wild plants I could not begin to name. After about 20 minutes into our jaunt, we passed through a small Naval Station gate and were greeted by a soldier touting a Tommy Gun slung around his shoulder. The main structure, on a nearby hill, was a large wood framed structure with a grass or Palm/Coconut tree branch roof. He looked at the driver and waved us through. Soon, while driving through some hills, we could see, in the distance, the Pacific Ocean.

We soon stopped at some huts and in the Jungle and watched in disbelief as a midget came walking out of the one hut and gave us a smile and waved. We waved back and walked down a short path to the stream bed. We grabbed the gear and began walking it out to the boat. Steve drove his Landcruiser down to the boat through the stream bed which was was undergoing an incoming tide. Steve tried to make his way out of the stream without any luck. Then he floored it and came barreling up the hill like something out of the "Dukes of Hazard" nearly missing a tree and a hut. He came to a sliding stop and I said "In person you seem so timid but behind that wheel you take on a completely different personality." He responded with something like "Walk softly but carry a big stick."

After the vehicles were parked and we observed the half chicken, half duck in its natural habitat, we jumped in the boat and glided and then slowly motored through the mangroves. We passed a hand dug log canoe which did not look that weathered and, at various points, ducked under the canopy. Fifteen minutes later the ocean appeared before us. On the left was a big island, maybe 1.5 miles in diameter, to the right were three connected smaller islands and in the distance was a couple more islands of indeterminent size. We were horrified and elated by what we saw in the distance. Plumes of white could be seen on the horizon against the dark green backdrop on the outer islands. We knew that judging by the distance, which was substantial, that there was a swell and the potential was staggering. The islands had that prehistoric feel, similar to Hawaii. Some of the islands had small mountain peaks that looked like pyramids and they all had the appearance of being pristine jungle.

We rounded the island on the left and soon pulled into a protected natural beach. We helped pull the two boats up and watched as the Panamanian boat captain Yohinnus, anchored at the bow. We hiked our gear, into the light jungle, past two huts and a block building (no windows or doors) which served as a school for the ten families on the island. We walked past the Kitchen and gathering/Dining Canopy to the two structures (concrete foundation, bamboo framed huts with coconut/palm tree branch roof systems) where we would be sleeping. Everyone, but me, had "No seeum" bug netting which they tied to the roof structural system over there cots. I had the misfortune of a "missing bag" situation. I began to envision scorpions and tarantellas crawling over me at 3:15 AM. We did see one scorpion while we were there but he didn't attack us. We all sort of had this silent reflective time which I think sometimes happens to people when they are flushed out of their normal surroundings into a place that mystifies. We were told that the hut, where we were to reside, had been invaded by a monkey the previous week (probably a Howler Monkey) and that the monkey did not appear to initially know its way back out the shuttered yet open window. This added to my, although reluctant, legitimate excitement. We emerged from our huts to take in the view in front of our pad which was a small "left" point break which peeled across a beach ball sized rock bed/reef combination. It was about 2' but we saw the potential for a wicked peeling fast line of nectar when the conditions were right.

As previously stated, several of our boards (and my bag of what I thought to be necessary gear), were who knows where, but Steve said he would continue to call the baggage claim phone number. Steve had a cell phone, he had designated for the island, and assured us he would make every attempt to help us get the gear and he did. Later, in the week, arrangements were made and the stuff was picked up at a designated spot just inland. Luckily Steve had several extra boards. He generously stated that we could have our pick of the lot. Instinctively, I chose the ugliest, most beat up, yellow, previously broke in half and subsequently put back together, less than plumb (like two halves of an egg shell haphazardly snuggled together) Al Merrick high performance 6' 10" apparatus. Oddly enough after picking it up, I liked the way it felt. We were all anxious to get in the water.

Mike, the camp resident guide sat us down in the gathering hut and showed us a fairly well scaled hand drawn map of the main island and its surrounding islands. He rattled off the names of the islands that have names and simply referred to the recently named "breaks" on the islands which, as of yet it is my belief, have not been named. Mike explained, with the candor of a board member, that

"the point is a fast pitching left, Rivermouth is a giant collage of waves which, on a good day, break as

far as the eye can see and result in potential 200 to 400 yard rides. Nestles off of Silva (the outer island

which resembles Tavarua) is an exploding cloud break which has potential to be 20' plus and

accommodates lefts and rights. P Land, a fast tubing left that starts breaking on a dangerous 25' square

table top reef and wraps around the island and it is theorized that it connects with another impressive

break called leftovers"

and so on until he described 8 or 9 potential breaks in the area. It was noted that those are the known breaks so far and it is believed/anticipated that others will be discovered. Safety measures were discussed and warning was given not to roam around on some of the islands because cat prints had been seen on one of the islands. Rumors like "it is believed that one of the islands is owned by some wealthy eccentric New Zealand conservationist who has stocked the island with exotic animals including poisons boa constrictors, pythons, and jaguars." We took heed. Another policy of the camp was to do early morning jaunts to the outer islands, weather permitting, and head back in the early afternoon to avoid the wind swell which tends to develop in the afternoon. You would not want to be out in that ocean after the wind has been howling for a while.

Next we found ourselves walking down the path towards the beach. We encountered several school children walking towards the school and they smiled and I believed that they must have found it strange that we would come to their home island to venture out to the adjacent islands to surf. We passed a island cowboy riding his horse with a machete dangling from his mount. It seemed he had nothing to worry about with his setup including the possibility of confronting a big cat, wild boar, or irritable bull defending his heard. We jumped in the two boats and headed for the point around the corner from the base camp.

We were to surf off the point on the main island the first day. We happily found the point to be head high and peeling left over a shallow rocky point. We jumped in the water after blinding ourselves with gobs of sunblock. It was bath water. After surfing in cold water in the red triangle for two years without even a Hawaii trip to knock of the ice cycles, I was ecstatic. My first wave resulted in my feet immediately slipping off my board and racking myself with the rail of my board as I tumbled over the falls. I did not realize how much those booties I had been wearing gripped the board (or plug in some other excuse). On the second wave, I pulled my right rail and found myself screaming down the line. The board was perfect. I had been surfing in CA on a fun shape which had some size and faired well in the big mushy walls of Santa Cruz and San Mateo Counties, but it would have been outclassed on this break. Everyone else was elated with the rides they were getting. When paddling back out, I could clearly see the others taking off and getting nice rides. It was not big but it was perfect for the first day. I pulled into 3 or 4 rides in a row and found myself sweating on the paddle back to the takeoff peak. Coconut trees swayed in the breeze along the expansive coast of this island. The land mass of the island was big enough to support a good amount of run off and there was a large area to explore. Mike pointed into a clearing in the trees and mentioned that there is a stream there and about a 3/4 of a mile back in the jungle was a 30' cascading waterfall. We headed back to the camp, unpacked and then grabbed some longboards and paddled out into the small break in front of the place. One of the guys took a snorkel and mask and dove in the same break for lobsters which are abundant at times. We had a nice dinner prepared for us, some kind of fish and rice, which tasted fine. We had a couple beers, which were provided at $1 each (I pay at least $3 in SF) had some laughs, and went to bed early.

The next morning at sunrise, we had some breakfast. All the meals were prepared by two nice Ladies who

live on the island. Mike pointed out that there was quite a cloud mass on the horizon which meant, more likely than not, that the seas around the outer islands would be quite rough and dangerous for the camps 30' long boats. He suggested for us to go to one of the breaks around the island and the general consensus was "Rivermouth." We motored around the island and upon seeing "Rivermouth" our jaws dropped. From the distance, it looked like a series of giant white caps. However, upon closer inspection, you could see what seemed like a field of waves. At first they appeared to break without method. But we discovered that they were breaking in the middle of the rivermouth about 1/4 mile out to sea. It was foggy but the sun began to come out. We looked up at the sky and saw a strange phenomenon. There was a rainbow encircling the sun. I had never seen a rainbow surrounding the sun. It was beautifully bizarre. Next we saw a gigantic rainbow which seemed to touch down exactly where we were about to surf right smack in the middle of the rivermouth where a fine line was drawn between the out going brownish river flow and the blue/green tidal inflow. The whole scene was awing. In addition, in the distance, you could see the inland mountains and the waves that were breaking before us disappeared into the river up into the island. I could see the mountains in the distance and I knew the waves had to stop somewhere but, as far as I could tell, I could only see the backs of these beasts meandering off into an infinite horizon. We dove out with our boards and paddled a great distance to what was a mobile peak which seemed to shift 1/4 mile perpendicular to the river. I recall us getting close to the muddy water flow and sitting some 10 yards away from it and thinking "I don't want to sit in that." I was 10 yards from it and I could see chocolate milk to my right and I was sitting in California Jade. All we heard was the rumbling thunder of the waves. You had to shout slightly to be heard yet the waves were not intimidating. The amount of water moving around you was. The waves averaged 10' and they were easy to ride. They first started crumbling and the white water would gently push you into a face. As you rode the wave, areas of it would speed up and slingshot you through sections and even throw a lip over you until it mushed out slightly only to reform again to allow for the optional continued ride inside and subsequent longer paddle. You found yourself saying "I don't think I want to ride this too far since I already can't see anyone." The entire rivermouth on the non muddy side seemed to be a series of catwalks one could systematically traverse while paddling back to the main take off points. You could almost avoid the punishment of Poseidon's fury by peering ahead and watching the steady marching waves. Mike, the resident surf guide, had been out of sight for a long time. At one point, I took a long ride, maybe 200 yards, and the wave lulled and reformed in a weird way. Suddenly the same wave, a right I had been riding for sometime, decided to lull, wall up again and started breaking left. I rode it in a speedy fashion for a while and found myself way inside near the brown line. I get the willies easy and decided to paddle like hell. I soon found out that paddling straight back out was impossible and found that paddling perpendicular to and away from the center of the rivermouth resulted in a quick escape from the never ending impact zone. I saw Mike ahead of me who proclaimed to be tearing it up on the inside. He was. This area lacked the size of the outer break area, but had some speed and was fun. I looked inland and still could not see where the waves stopped breaking. I caught one with him and then headed back out to where everyone else was. Sitting back at the outside peaks, we shared some embellished ride descriptions and noticed that something was circling Brian who was sitting nervously on a long board. We couldn't tell what it was. Either a small shark, a small gator, some kind of large fish (like maybe a huge carp) or maybe a monitor. Who knows? It creaped me out to the point where I carried a Gerber knife in my trunks pocket the next day. That river could have had any imaginable animal/fish in the world in it. We were definitely in the "Petri Dish of the World" and that critter in the water around Brian could have been anything. Funny thing is, nobody was scared enough that they wanted to abandon the rides and fun we were having. Mike had told us that some people, visiting the island previous to us, had seen a group of harmless gigantic whale sharks there basking in the sun with their mouths open. Everybody just seemed to stay a little closer together until soon the time between sets seemed to decrease substantially. Finally after catching a long ride inside, the others and I realized we were paddling for like 20 minutes and not getting anywhere. I couldn't see anyone, but they were all in the same situation in a field of waves. The fear of getting sucked up that river caused me to arch my back a little more a dig in. After another 20 minutes I could see others and the boat in the distance. The boat captain was not about to get to close to the gargantuan break and sat out well beyond the mouth of the river. We did not blame him. Bringing that boat to close would have been sketchy especially if the engine were to get suddenly flooded. One or two of those waves would have buried that thing. Mike later said "that was the best I have seen Rivermouth break."

Back at the camp, we whined about the noodle arms effect and chowed. That afternoon Mike and I hiked up to the waterfall along the coast of the island which was comprised of large round stones. You had to concentrate on every step. The rocks were dry and easy to grip but if you didn't concentrate you could easily tweak an ankle. The rocky beach walk was something I welcomed. Mike did it often and considered it a sort of meditative therapy. Growing up in Southern California certainly provided him with some reasons to consider a sobering walk though the stones which subsequently appeared to be a key ingredient to an ongoing individual renaissance or spiritual enlightenment. Mike was enthusiastic about showing me the waterfall and after turning into an opening in the jungle, we traversed through my first rainforest action. It was fluorescent green everywhere. We hiked adjacent to a clear clean stream which led to the waterfall. Coming up on a waterfall is always a trip. I have found several of great beauty in the White Mountains, Big Sur, along the Klamath and Cal Sam, but this one was so fresh, since the water did not originate from a great distance. The water tasted great. It is a cascading waterfall with terraces upon which you can sit or stand and get a much needed pounding back massage from the water flow.

Each night we would basically eat a dinner consisting of fish & rice, pasta, chicken, beef or some combination there of. I wished at times that I had my snacks that were tucked away with my lost luggage but I was fine and realized that I had everything I needed. If I needed some sun block or whatever someone would share, understanding my lack of equipment. I could have bitched the whole time about not having my gear but I think it was meant to be that I only have essentials. It was wild to fall asleep to the sounds of the jungle and the roar of the surf passing over the rock bed.

On one morning the conditions were right and we decided to go to "Silva" the outer circular shaped island. Just before we got in the boat, we saw dogs and pigs on the beach gathering around a huge sea turtle which was making its way back to the ocean after apparently laying eggs during the night. We were now on our way to "Silva" and from a great distance we saw bombs exploding off the west side. As we came closer we saw how truly magnificent this island was. There are serious rocks and reef surrounding it and white sand beaches with coconut trees criss crossing each other in thicket like patterns. We continued around "Nestles", the huge cloud break, which was breaking 15' to 20.' It looked rideable to me but it wasn't until we paddled out that I realized I was in over my head, literally. As we rounded the island we saw "P Land", the barreling left working and "Left Overs" which was going off as well. The eastern side of the island was calm and I wish I had had my snorkel and mask because it was probably a cool dive spot. Around the South end of the island was a nice break which I can not remember the name of that started breaking near a shelf fairly close to the island and formed into a nice big easy right which stood up for a long time gaining and decreasing in height but maintaining a certainly ridable strength and eventually breaking until dissipating far out in the ocean away from the island. We all said lets go out on that but the discussion then turned back to attacking "Nestles" the Monster. We were all nervous. We paddled over to "Nestles" with great caution. Eventually we all took turns trying to catch that wave. I tried twice. The first time, I got up, for a 1/2 second, and the lip landed over me and I kind of dove through it

escaping its wrath. A little while latter I tried again, free fell for a couple stories, and tried to land on my board. I missed and got taken down deep. I recall climbing my leash, then my board and when I almost got to the nose of my board I finally surfaced in a panic with more bombs coming. I kept diving as deep as I could under them until a lull when I paddled like a maniac for the horizon. That was it for me. The crest on this wave appeared to be about 50 yards across, yet it wasn't a close out or a big barrel. It has a top section of the wave that curls and throws about 6 feet right over the top and lands about a 3rd of the way down its face. This wide section of lip makes it difficult to predict where to take off. My friends Kellam and Chris each got one ride (or escape from a good beating). However, I watched as each one of my friends, including John who is pretty cautious, tried two or three times to catch this thing. Normally I would be laughing when I see one of them go cartwheeling down the face of a wave, but this wave was frightening. I would imagine that Nestles would be less intimidating for someone who rides outer sunset or some other large (what I call) professional break. One set pounding there could take you all the way into the island which we anticipated to be, like I said, rocky and sharp reef. I was glad to be out of there after trying to surf it for 20 minutes and trying to, what I considered at the time, survive for 40 minutes. I do not suggest that it was a bad break to try. All of us could and should be able to survive in that break. That place is just a little too harry for me. I actually was having a hell of an experience just sitting in it and taking in this unbelievable spectacle including the panoramic view of the island.

Latter that day, Eddie, one of the local 8 year old kids took us on a hike through the rain forest in search of monkeys. We were tripping, falling down, slipping at every turn in our Tevas while Eddie cruised along at twice our pace without a minor stumble. Every once and a while, he would turn to us and place his index finger across his mouth and listen. We could not hear anything, but he did and we followed him. Soon, he pointed up into the double to triple canopy and we saw branches moving high up in the trees. Eventually we saw some silhouettes of the fairly large moneys in the upper canopy and they were making noises. Apparently, sightings of them is extremely rare and we thanked Eddie and gave him a pocket knife, $5 and some candy bars. I feel like some colonist in saying this, but at one point we made some paper airplanes and the local kids went nuts. At first they accidentally smashed them and then they learned how to fly them with a level of caution. They played with them for a long time and even after the planes were basically paper wads, they continued to laugh and toss them around.

The rest of our stay resulted in one more slightly less spectacular, but fun day, at the Rivermouth and two days of surfing at Silva, the outer island, at P Land and another break which was great because we all had plenty of fun rides in the sunshine. During one early afternoon, we saw what appeared to be a blue whale spout and breach off the North side of Silva. The fact that the blue whale is nearly extinct, and we saw one, was incredible. That thing was huge. We also went to one sketchy cove break situated between two large rock formations. The waves there were head high. It was a messy take off compared to other breaks in the area, but still a challenge to get a decent ride which was possible if you could make this weird section. The cove possessed a weird bowl effect inside which trapped me for a while when I was trying to take some pictures with one of those cheap disposable underwater cameras which do not work. Everybody got worried about me when a relentless set of about 10 waves came through. I huffed and puffed my disoriented self back to the boat eventually. The swell again appeared to pick up and intervals between sets decreased so we headed back to camp. Overall, we found that while on the island, there were fun waves to be had at some breaks and quite difficult breaks as well. I am certain some adventuresome people get skunked, have poor waves or a lot of rain while staying on the island but we didn't. There were lulls in the surf and we whined about the humidity a couple nights but again that was part of the journey. We could have been sitting in crowded surf somewhere, but we weren't.

On the boat ride, on the first leg of our journey back to Panama City, I had the opportunity to speak, at greater length, with Steve Thompson the proprietor of the camp. I asked him how he came to find his piece of paradise in Central America. He explained that he had spent a great deal of time in the area when he was a missionary I am guessing some 20 years earlier. I knew before this conversation, simply from his dignified composure and actions, that he was a man of deep convictions. I respect that and can easily recall that I had witnessed him perform many small yet important kind gestures. He went beyond what was required of a person running a business. Steve met a local Panamanian girl (years earlier) and they are still happily married today and have some kids which live part time in San Diego and part time in Panama. Through his wife's contacts, some research, exploring and a yearning for quality uncharted surf he and his wife found the island and arranged for a partial purchase to some land rights on the island. Upon surveying his domain, it is easy to understand why others might be jealous of him. Yet he is one of those people that exemplify everything good about the human species. It would be easy to be critical of his operation, I suppose, if you were to compare it to other, deeply financed, surf camp operations in other parts of the world. However, for a frustrated surfer like me who is locked up in an office all week with a phone, drawing table and computer, I found the camp to be just what I needed for a 35th birthday.

Indeed, one of the most refreshing parts of the trip was a hot bath back at the Hilton in Panama City. My friend Kellam(whom we appreciate greatly from time to time) "upgraded us," using some sort of Corporate Big Shot card, to suites in the hotel. It was not long after we checked in and bathed that we found ourselves in the hotel bar talking a Big Game about the events of the week. The trip had been something my friends and I will always remember with awe.

Frederick Reardon

http://www.steelfurniture.com

Steve Thompson
www.surferparadise.com
Panama Surfing Adventure