Surfing Chicama: Should You Take the Boat at the World’s Longest Left?
Editor's note: This is a contribution from an up-and-coming surf writer, Taylor Damron.
After 12 hours of travel, you’ve finally reached the desert moonscape of Puerto Malabrigo, home to Chicama aka “the world’s longest left”. It’s a beautiful sunny afternoon, a light offshore breeze applies a bit of texture. You jump from the van to see wave after chest high wave peeling into the bay. There’s no one out.
A bleached blonde and sandalled somebody scrapes up to you, croaking out a hello, as he squints into the sun with bloodshot eyes. You can barely contain your excitement and the questions roll out.
Where is everyone? How has it been? Is it as good as it looks? How long have you been here?
Laughing, he shrugs answering your questions in reverse order: I’ve been here much longer than planned. It is as good as it looks and it's been even better the past few weeks. And finally, no one’s out because everyone had a long morning session in the boat. Then he asks you the question that will nip at your heels the rest of your stay.
Would you like to join the boat for the afternoon session?
The boat?
To boat or not to boat. That is the question.
I just returned to California after spending a month in Puerto Malabrigo where I fell head over heels for this 2 kilometer left. I asked myself this question almost daily. And it became a surprisingly moral one; of Surf tourism and its impacts, of inequality and resource allocation, of etiquette and values.
The boats in question are zodiacs-motorboats-that for the equivalent of two bowls at Chipotle, you can reserve a spot in for a 3 hour session. The ‘surf taxi’ will pick you up on the beach and ferry you up the point, dropping you right in the takeoff spot to rinse and repeat after each wave. It’s the equivalent of a maritime ski-lift, saving your arms but unlocking a soreness in the legs rarely encountered in the water. If an average wave is 10-20 seconds long, a lined up set from El Point to the beach will run you for a minute to two. When coupled with this curbside pickup, the surf taxi increases time on wave exponentially. Reps on reps on reps and by god is it a good time.
But as everything does, it comes with a price.
After a while taking the boat started to feel like stuffing my face at an all you can eat buffet. It felt good while it was happening but I couldn't help but feel bloated- and a little guilty afterwards. I would remember the glares of those who neglected to join the boat, instead opting to fight the current, and walk beneath the orange cliffs back to the lineup. Their gazes burning holes in my back as the boat dropped me, and my troop of fellow paying customers, up the point and into ‘priority’.
According to a few local friends, the practice started sometime between 2010 and 2015. As happens in the emergence of any new market, there were no rules. Here was an opportunity to build a steady business in a place with few opportunities to do so; a fully booked schedule meaning two sessions a day, 7 days a week, with an average of 4 surfers per boat. This is big money for a small town like this. It's the kind of strong and consistent income that can bring a new level of comfort and security to a young person, a family, and even an entire community.
This is the bright side of surf tourism. Money brought by visiting surfers enlivens a sleepy town. Young people who would have left for bigger cities with more jobs, opt to stick around, and participate in the industry. Many of these businesses are owned and operated by locals, evolving from a one man show of equipment rentals and surf lessons, into full scale operations with boats, a handful of drones, and rooms to rent. And budding business brings attention- and more importantly funding- from local and national governments. 25 years ago most of Malabrigo lacked running water, let alone electricity. Now, almost everyone has a smartphone and some form of internet connection. Recent government funding built a beautifully paved malecon(boardwalk), complete with shaded verandas, benched lookouts, and a surf museum. Street lights lit the path through the evening, providing a place for locals, and tourists alike, to hangout, listen to music, and drink Trujillo’s. In the town square, there is an extravagant (yet empty) fountain where dolphins jump from one side to the other and 15 foot tall Caballito’s de Totorro stand guard on all sides. None of this is possible without the money, or attention, that surfing brings to town.
But there are tradeoffs. As mentioned, there are no regulatory rules of governance or process. Boats are frequently overpacked and competition between services is high, causing disagreements within the community. On big swells, surf forecasting brings all eyes to this endless left and the crowds descend. Boats zig zag back and forth and inexperienced captains chop up the lineup and drive too close to surfers. Some will drive straight through a set wave on the way to the takeoff spot. There becomes a constant leapfrogging of priority, as packs of surfers are dropped further and further up the point to ensure their position for forthcoming sets. Being paying customers, these patrons bring a new level of entitlement to the lineup. One earned without consideration of who’s had the last wave, who’s been waiting in priority, or paddled their ass off against current, and swell, to catch the next one.
Once the genie’s out of the bottle it’s hard to put him back in. Where you might have been a happy camper with a two hour session and five to seven of the longest leg burning waves of your life, you’ve been shown an alternative-an invitation to the wave feast. All you have to do is spend a couple extra bucks and considering how much you spent to get there, it's hard to say no. FOMO aside, access to a boat is abundant and relatively cheap if coming from the US (consider a rough Dollar to Peruvian Sol ratio of approx. 1 to 3.5). Fellow visitors invite you to join a session, local drivers pass out business cards like candy, and hostel owners are actively organizing groups. It’s hard to miss, nor do you really want to.
But, just because you can buy a bunch of cheeseburgers and have them delivered to your doorstep doesn’t mean you should. There’s something to having to work for what it is you desire that we seem to be forgetting. Especially in surfing, where a singular wave can take a hard fought and miserable session and make it all worthwhile. It’s a twisted little example of our generation’s greedy immediacy. When money buys shortcuts, more appear.
Surfing, at its base, is equal opportunity. Removing skill level from the equation, if you can get to the beach, and you have the gear, you have the same opportunity to catch waves as everyone else. Once in the lineup, the catching of waves is determined by ability, a meritocracy. Throwing a for hire motor boat in the lineup throws a wrench in a level playing field. Destabilized, the feeding frenzy begins and out the window goes any idea of etiquette. Surfings very own tragedy of the commons.
To boat or not to boat.
It’s a complicated question and not one I’m trying to answer for you. Nor do I necessarily think there’s a cut and dry, right or wrong answer. What’s important is to consider the various factors at play and not to come blindly, but with conscious thought and a mind open to the nuance of the situation. As surfers, we travel to these places as guests and our presence has impacts. So wherever you go, whatever corner of the world you may find yourself in, take a minute to consider what it means that you’re there and how you’re going to impact it while you do.
And always, always, tip your boat drivers.