Jackson Hole II: One Full Year

Matapalo: The Return

Gigante, Nicaragua

Ryan and Grey's House

The fishing village of Gigante supports around 40 fisherman and their families

My friend the white-face monkey who was a pet at one of the small village houses

One of the Gigante locals takes a curious look at my camera

The Giants Foot Peninsula that forms the south barrier of the village of Gigante

Heading out at Play Colorado two beaches north of Gigante

Just inside the barrel on a quick right

Should be higher on this backside drop, but im learning

Ryan, Davey, and Juancho all prepare for the pig roast feast
Dervis and I with the remains of the pig, some of the rest of him is on my plate

Cypress Asset Management

I spent the month of April working in Houston at Cypress Asset Managment

Leaving Peru for a Suprise Weekend In NYC

After a break from updates, I am back online to report a big change in the year off plans !

First, I have been accepted to the McCombs Business School MBA program at the University of Texas in Austin. I will be moving to Austin and starting school in early August.

Second, after Laura left Peru on March 16th I returned to Pico Alto Surf Camp (PASC) in Punta Hermosa to spend the week leading up to Semana Santa (Easter) surfing. The Semana Santa weekend is absolutely crazy, as everyone in Lima who can scrape together a few Soles and anything that can float, heads out into the water. I was able to surf a bit on Monday through Friday geting used to my new 6'4 Lost Speed Demon II surf board which I had purchased in Lima earlier that month. I caught great waves at the big breaks of Punta Rocas, Senoritas, and Caballeros and thoroughly appreciated the extra couple inches in length I went with in choosing my board. However, as the weekend arrived, some reef cuts and bad chest rashes from the board began to wear on me at the same time the waves got more crowded and difficult to compete for. I starteted to experience my first real surfing fatigue.

As crowds continued to swarm the beach, I was faced with being forced out of my room to accommodate previous PASC reservations. I made the decision to fly New York for Easter and my sisters birthday which were that weekend and which my parents had already traveled up for. I snuck onto a plane Friday the 21st without telling them and by Saturday morning showed up at their hotel room door as an unexpected Easter/Birthday surprise. It was an amazing week in New York seeing both my family, friends, and of course girlfriend Laura (who was equally surprised). Though it wasn't my original plan the month of March ended in a spate of much missed American luxuries: steaks at BLT Prime, sushi, a Rangers game at MSG, a matinee of Jersey Boys with the fam, and cocktails and the delicious 'devils on horseback' at SoHo hotspot Friedmans.

My time warp from the the third world to the big apple was such a whirlwind I scarcely had time to process or plan. I just knew my body was surf sore and that for the time being I felt OK about having my board lay dormant as I reacquainted with stateside life and made plans for the upcoming four months before school.


La Isla Beach experiences the crowds of Semana Santa

Villa Sirena and Los Organos Beach

Laura and I recovered from our Machu Picchu adventure at the Villa Sirena hotel in Northern Peru between Mancora and Organos beach. Our first 12 hours at our 'luxury' resort were quite memorable. We rolled in hungry after two flights and a 3 hour cab ride to find the place totally deserted and staffed by only a local groundskeeper. About the only thing that I was able to understand from him was that there was no chance of getting a meal at our hotel and that our one room bungalow was indeed not equipped with a fan.

This left Laura and I no option but to go forging into Mancora in search of sustenance. We found an 'Italian' place with an outdoor seating area that appeared to be Mancora's most tourist friendly establishment. As we begin to dig into our pizza and bottle of white wine, we quickly became aware that the good food and tropical ambiance was also appreciated by a thriving population of cockroach/beetle like creatures who dropped down on us from the trees above and scampered about over and between our feet. Like any good tourist adjusting to new surroundings we turned to the bottle, quickly killing the wine, then heading to the Lone Star bar down the street to finish of the night with shots. Ironically, the tequila and kolua mixers we selected as our shot of choice were called La Cucarachas. We made it back to our 'luxury' bungalow at around midnight where we gladly collapsed on the bed/mattress, the lone piece of furniture adorning the cement floor.

The next morning, through groggy eyes, we awakened to a gorgeous sunny day and a pristine view of our own private pacific beach. Chairs were lain out by the pool just inviting us to head over there, settle in with a book or a crossword, and order that first 8:30 AM cocktail. Well, we had made it just about to steps beyond our porch when the first swarm of sand gnats hit us. Within seconds they were crawling in our eyes, nose, and teaming inside my numerous surf cuts. Like any rational people trying to enjoy a vacation, Laura and I both intuitively transitioned into a policy of full strategic denial. After 6 minutes of trying to sunbathe/read/order breakfast while simultaneously serving as an insect sanctuary all such pretense evaporated in the face rapidly encroaching insanity. We sprinted back to our room/cell and mentally prepared ourselves for a tropical weekend spent hiding from the flies in a steaming hot cement bungalow.

The good part of this story is how it ends. The wind picked up within an hour and all the sand gnats disappeared. We ended up really enjoying the beach, the hotel and its staff grew on us, and at $25 per person a night we felt like we actually had found a pretty good deal. Its pretty tough to find a private beach in that range here in the states. Oh, and also we may have become slightly obsessed with one of our fellow Villa Sirena residents, who was about 2 months old, black, and named Moonie.



Heres the view from our porch of the Villa Sirena pool and the ocean beyond

Laura and I enjoying the beach


Our neighborhood taxi

Thats me surfing . . .errr floating in the waveless expanse that was Organos Beach


Even if I didn't catch any big waves to show off for Laura, I can always impress her with my super cool surfer pose

. . . and then Laura left me for a dog and its name was Moonie

Whats more fun the a Peruvian French Bulldog !

Not quite Hercules but pretty cute

Machu Picchu with Laura

I can now happily report I have received my first visitor of the trip. After four months apart since we had seen each other in NY, Laura made it down to Peru for an amazing 10 days. I had been looking forward to our trek along the Incan trail to Machu Picchu forever and it still didn't disappoint. We flew to Cuzco from Lima where we stayed for one night before leaving for the trail. The trial itself is a 4 day 3 night hike through the Peruvian Andes amidst numerous sites of ancient Incan ruins. We shrugged off the rain, embraced the eccentricities of our oh so special SAS hiking group, and just generally enjoyed each other and our mountain rainforest surroundings. We were with a group of 16 other people that was supported by around 20 porters, cooks, and guides who kept us comfortable ensconced in wilderness luxury despite the wet and cold conditions. We were served hot meals on the trail for lunch, had our tents set up each night when we arrived at camp, and were awakened every morning with warm washing water and hot mate de coca tea.

Without further ado, some pictures . . .


This rat looking creature is called a Cuy and is and Incan delicacy. I was kind of grossed out, but Laura just couldn't get enough .

On of the two giant Spanish cathedrals in the main square in Cuzco

Laura and I, dry and all smiles, right before the start of the Inca trail trek

Notice the small size of our backpacks in the previous picture, its because the above army of porters were shlepping all our gear. They all lived near to Machu Picchu and spoke Quechua a language derived from the Incans.

Laura told me she wasn´t going to leave Peru without seeing a llama; unfortunately this herd came cruising across path our second day on the trail

These ruins (much of which are actually rebuilt) are in WinyaWinna the last Incan ruin site before Machu Picchu. The terraces you see were for growing crops while the house like structures provide shelter to Incan pilgrams on there way to Machu Picchu.

Laura is inside one of the Incan ritual baths, you can see these square structures stair step down and water would flow down through all of them so the Incans could cleanse themselves prior to arriving at Machu Picchu. When we were there, however, there was not so much water flowing but there was beer as evidenced by those rouge bottles that made the shot.

This shot from WinyaWinna shows the amazing Incan stonework. Each stone was split, cut, and smoothed to precise specifications to fit exactly with other stones so that all the construction would be motor free. These structures are amazingly strong and have survived numerous earthquakes.

Trying to sneak up on a llama and looking a little sheepish

The classic view of Machu Picchu as you approach along the Incan trail below the Sun Gate. We had about a 10 minute window from the clouds and were lucky enough to snap a few photos.

A shot of the two conquistadors after concurring the trail.

Pico Alto Surf Camp, Peru

My first stop in Peru was Pico Alto Surf Camp (PASC) in Punta Hermosa which is about 45 minutes south of Lima. There are about 17 surf breaks within a small 8 km stretch that you can easily walk or take a moto taxi to from PASC. The camp is run by a guy named Oscar Morante Jr whose father, Oscar Sr, was a surf legend in the area. Oscar and his staff were super nice and took me and the other Brazilian tourists staying there to a number of off-the-beaten-path surf breaks all over the coast south of Lima.

I stayed at PASC for 8 nights at a whopping 25 dollars per night which included 3 meals a day. I also had my own private room with a TV, a DVD player, and a computer with internet across the hall. We were served home made lunches with rice, marinated meats, and great spicy sauses. It was amazing, especially after a full morning of surfing the cold waters and strong currents that I found ever present in Peruvian surfing. It was a big adjusment from my Costa Rican experience. The surf was just much bigger, with longer paddel outs, more current, and less clean waves where positioning and take off points were not so obvious to me. Peru is a bit of a rough and tumble surfing world. You are paddeling out, pushing trash out of your way as you go, and taking in the dusty desert skyline and hazy outline of nearby Lima. However, when you do finaly get in on one of Peru's big rolling waves, the ride is so much longer then those in Costa Rica, you remember why people come from all over to surf here.


Views of Senoritas and Caballeros, the two breaks I surfed the most


Some of the Brazilians prepare for a surf session

A view of a break called Puerto Viejo south of Punta Hermosa and Lima
'Me and my surf buddy Alex, who was nicknamed Cachito which means a bit or a morsel
Oscar Jr. , the Godfather of Punta Hermosa and one of the nicest guys I met while traveling

Me with two of the night club promoters of Hapas which was the big weekend discoteca in Punta Hermosa

A Train, a Bus, and Buenos Aires

After six weeks in Bariloche we finally escaped. We took the Patagonia Train from Bariloche to Viedma which was a cool 24 hour trip. We had a sleeping car and got served traditional Patagonian fare by waiters in tuxedos in the dining car.

In Viedma we caught another 12 hour bus to Buenos Aires. In BA we checked out the graveyard of Eva Peron, ate at some Parillas, and went to some bars and night clubs. It was a fun time. A few pictures are below . . . now off to Peru.


The old train we took from Bariloche in the Patagonia to Viedma on the Atlantic Coast

Sean and James make eyes at each other in the train dining car

Trying out my artistic black and whites at the Buenos Aires graveyard with Eva Peron's grave

The view down the street our hostel was on in B.A.