Surfs up dudes....

.....God I hate the word 'dude' but anyhow, the surf was indeed up. Just enough for Mike and I to catch some waves, little tiny weeny beginner ones. We had headed for the surf again and after a bumpy, sports bra kind of ride, from Huaraz through Canon del Pato, we arrived after dark, (thanks to being pulled over by the police for a chat - no bribes though), in a little fishing village called Haunchaco. The attraction here is not only its surf, which around the point was a lot bigger for those who can, but the fishermen. Or more correctly, their boats. They're like a surf kayak made out of straw, similar to those on Lake Titicaca and have been made like this for over 2000 years apparently. So the fisherman paddles out through the waves, catches his fish then surfs back in. They're still fishing like this, but now for what appears to be a rather boring ride, tourists can be paddled out, paddled around for a bit then ride the small waves back in.
We opted for the adrenallin rush of surfing with boards. So booking ourselves in for a lesson with Eduardo, (North surf school, who also teaches orphans to surf to keep them out of mischief, and has a little bambino of his own on the way - got to give the guy a plug, he wants to go to Australia to surf but would need to scrimp and save for a year just for the flight) a brilliant instructor, we squeezed into our wet suits and headed for the beach. Two hours later and after much amuzment to the locals on the beach, I had the hang of it, sort of. I was able to stand up, and ever so slightly manouvre the board. Not too bad for not having been on a surf board for almost 4 years, when I couldn't stand up then either. Mike, the natural, stood up on his first go, then his second, lost it on the third but was back into it by about the 6th or 7th wave. We hung out in the water until it was almost dark and we were exhausted. Ah, I love the surf - especially when there are no sharks!