I walked a few blocks from where the bus dropped me and saw a street lined by vendor stalls leading east towards the ocean. Recognizing that this must be one of the main drags in town, I headed down it looking for a place to stay.
About halfway to the beach I ran into Chris the Kiwi. He was walking along in a daze, and explained that he had just woken up and gotten a cheeseburger. He and Heidi had just had two ‘big nights’ in a row with their friends from New Zealand. He told me where they were staying and gave me directions, but I wanted something more beachfront. He looked haggard so I let him be on his way, while I continued to wander the beach town looking for a hostel.
Montañita is a small coastal town renowned for its surf breaks and hippie vibe. Several miles of sand beach heading north to ‘The Point’ provide consistent wave breaks that attract surfers from all over the world. As you head northward to The Point, the waves become increasingly large. I saw some green waves (unbroken waves) rolling in towards The Point that were easily 15ft high. The town is rather small, with most of the shops, restaurants, and bars located in a grid about 6 blocks north/south by 4 blocks east/west. More secluded hotels and houses are found on the outskirts of town, away from the bustling nightlife scene known for partying until sunrise. There is a markedly bohemian vibe: it feels like everyone in town is dreaded and tattooed, and nearly every building has some sort of tribute to reggae music or revolutionary icons. Marijuana is always in the air, and weed hawkers can be found on nearly every corner.
I moved on towards the beach fully clad in my Panama hat, backpacks, and food bag—obviously a newcomer to town. “Hey man, welcome to town. Need some weed?” a bare-chested, barefoot, dreaded blaxican inquired as I made my way down the street. I smiled and turned him down. It wasn’t a minute longer until I was offered again. I laughed. “My former self would’ve loved this place,” I thought.
I hit the boardwalk and headed north. A block on and I heard, “Amigo! Amigo, necesitas una habitación?!” A bearded gentleman was beckoning me from the front porch wooden lodge looking hostel facing the beach. I nodded and inquired what amenities the place had. He gave me a tour of El Centro del Mundo Hostel and offered a small private room for $5/night, which I gladly accepted. After dropping my bags and signing the registrar, the guy introduced himself as the owner, Mateo from Italy. We got acquainted and he offered information about the town in a weird mix of Spanish, Italian, and English. I told him I was going to head out for lunch, and as I was leaving he looked me in the eye and asked if I needed any “GannJahh.” I smiled and politely declined, explaining my shaman from Peru had instructed me to avoid marijuana. He patted me on the shoulder sympathetically, and took me to his room where he showed me a several souvenirs from his travels in the Amazon. My man.
I spent the afternoon exploring the town. Towards sundown I went to the beach for a swim. This was my first encounter with the surf, and I was amazed at the ferocity of the waves. At certain places on the beach the riptides are strong as the surf retreats back into the ocean. It wasn’t long before I was 100m down the beach from where I had left my sandals and towel.
After a nice long soak, I walked north up the beach towards The Point and watched the hardcore surfers riding the sunset breaks. Dozens of surfers dotted the ocean, sitting on their boards out past the main wave breaks. Many of these guys were very impressive, like something you’d see on a Hurley commercial, shredding to and fro at the crest of large breaking waves. “Much too hardcore for me,” I thought, “I’ll need to cut my teeth a half mile down the beach.” It had already been three plus weeks since I had last surfed in Chicama, Peru, and these were the biggest waves I’d yet encountered.
I made dinner at the hostel and had a nice quiet evening writing, reading, and going for a moonlight walk on the beach. My sleep that night was perturbed by the constant bassline of electronic music coming from nearby clubs.
I awoke early the next morning to the sound of power tools and hammering from just outside my window. I later saw Mateo in the kitchen while I made breakfast. He explained they were working on the foundation of the hostel and other improvements, and would be working every day until rainy season. “This place isn’t gonna work,” I thought, “I need my sleep!”
That morning I went out searching for a new hostel and found several decent places along a dirt road a few blocks northeast of the downtown area. I went back to my hostel and began to pack up, but was feeling lazy, so decided to stay one more night. Instead I went to the beach and had a piña colada made with real coconut!
I inquired about surf board rentals and when best time to go surfing. A guy explained high tide was coming in after lunch and would make the waves more subdued, which was best for beginners, low tide was in the morning and sunset which was best for surfers looking for big, steep wave breaks.
I had lunch and returned at about 2pm. I rented a 7ft ‘fish’ board for 2 hours for $8. Even at high tide the waves were pretty intense. Just getting through the break was nearly impossible riding over the waves or using a ‘barrel roll,’ so I had to try a new technique, the ‘duck dive,’ to go under the breaking waves. I didn’t know how to properly execute the duck dive and had a lot of difficulty, getting blasted by waves repeatedly. After about 45 minutes of getting pummeled, and only getting through the break a few times for failed runs in which I wasn’t able to stand up, I resolved to stay in the whitewater and practice popping up on the ‘fish’ board. I had many good runs in the whitewater and retired to the shore exhausted after another 50 minutes. The waves had moved me a half mile up shore from where I had rented the board.
After returning the board, I enjoyed another piña colada while having a mapacho and watching the beachgoers. I returned to the hostel and met Nico and his two amigos from Argentina on the front porch. They had a half dozen coconuts they retrieved by throwing rocks at coconut trees along the beach. They were hacking into them with a machete. “Awesome! You guys are righteous,” I congratulated them. Nico gave me a coconut to drink the water, and instructed me not to forget to scoop out the flesh.
After showering, I headed back down the beach to watch the sunset and the hardcores surf The Point. I tried to gain some insight into their technique by observation while enjoying a mapacho and beer. Problem was they made it look so effortless. It’s like a noob golfer trying to learn by going to a PGA event.
After sunset and the twilight grew to darkness, I headed back to the hostel after gathering some food for dinner. I found a fishing pole on the front porch, and the Argentinos in the kitchen with four fish they had pulled from the ocean and were filleting. “Awesome! You guys are righteous,” I congratulated them again in admiration. Nico had a three piece fishing rod he carried in his backpack, and regularly used it with pieces of hotdog to catch dinner along the coast. With free fish, rice, and veggies, they made a tasty meal that probably cost the three of them about $0.50 a head. I admired their resourcefulness and praised them for being like the travelers of 150 years ago. They brushed it off like it was no big deal, and explained they had been traveling South America living like this for over a year.
After another simple, clean dinner I watched YouTube videos on how to properly duck dive, and how to manage big waves. Later I settled in writing, resolved to take it easy again that night. The bass of the nearby clubs called to me, but it was still only Tuesday. “Eaasssy Rodney,” I told myself (Super Troopers).
I awoke again to the sound of power tools. Ugh, that’s it. I made breakfast and packed my shit together. I paid Mateo who was sad to see me go, and headed towards Hidden House Hostel which I had scouted out the day prior.
On the way something called me to stay Laurroulet Hostel, across the street from Hidden House. It’s a Chilean hostel where Spanish was the norm and English was the exception—more of the total immersion environment I was seeking to improve my Spanish. It’s hard to learn Spanish when English is the norm at backpacker hostels. I was able to get a huge private room to myself for $10/night.
This hostel was like a big family. Almost all the guests had been staying there for more than a month. Mauritio (~40) and Sebastian (mid 30s) from Chile owned the place. Virginia (25) and Marielle (27) from Argentina were volunteers who did the cleaning and cooking every day, house mothers if you will. Camillo (27) from Chile was also a volunteer who did more handyman type work around the house. Then there was Carlos, Fernando, Alvaro, and Miguel from Colombia, David and Bayron from Argentina, Noam and Yoni from Israel, Nadine from Germany (all ~25), and a cast of rotating characters.
I met most of these characters while making a late breakfast in the kitchen. I immediately hit it off with Nadine because she barely spoke any Spanish and was excited to have someone she could communicate with in English, which she spoke near perfectly. We arranged to go to yoga together later that evening.
After breakfast, I headed to the beach and rented a surfboard. I went out and practiced duck diving under the waves, which I was able to do quite effectively after a learning phase. I was still having trouble getting up on the green waves, and spent the latter half of my session practicing in the whitewater again.
I headed back to the hostel to meet Nadine and we walked down the beach to find the yoga studio. We had a rejuvenating hour long English yoga class. Afterwards we walked home along the beach in the twilight. Nadine is an interesting girl. She was supposed to return to Germany after her initial 3-month trip ended a couple months prior, but decided to stay in South America until she ran out of money. She found a gig writing for a German publication about sustainable ecological projects in South America, and was now funding her travels writing an article a week.
After returning to the hostel and showering, I headed out for dinner. I decided to try a pizza joint that was filled with people. Must have decent pizza if there’s that many people here, I reasoned. Wrong! Cardboard crust…again! Must be a regional taste thing. But it is just not appetizing if you’re from Chicago, a place renowned for pizza. I need to stop making this mistake. Avoid pizza in SA!
After dinner, I returned to find Fernando and Camillo collecting donations for a beer fund. I chipped in and they returned shortly later with a bunch of beers. The motley crew at the hostel hung out in the kitchen and living room sharing beers for a few hours before heading out at about 11:30.
The group headed to Cocktail Alley, a street lined up and down by dozens of bar booths with tables and chairs in front of them. Music blares while people dance and mingle in the street.
After taking in some street music on Cocktail Alley and having a couple drinks, the group went into Caña Grill, a popular bar with a sand floor and live music. We all went into the middle, kicked off our shoes/sandals and had a dance fest in the sand while passing round bottles of beer.
Later we went back out to cocktail alley for fresh air and more drinks and ran into friends of Virginia and Marielle, other Argentinos volunteering at a nearby hostel. They had just bought a bottle of rum and litre of coke and were heading to the beach to have a hang out. We joined them and had a pow-wow of about 20 people sitting in a circle on the beach. It was perfect, starry, moonlit beach weather with waves crashing 50 feet on. The rum and coke, along with joints, would come around periodically while the South Americans broke out into song after song in Spanish.
After about an hour, the rum was gone so the group headed to a salsa bar on Cocktail Alley. I watched Carlos the Colombian salsa with gusto, amazed at his command of his partners and the dance floor. I tried to get my salsa dancing on with Virginia and Marielle. Spoiler: I was not too good. I just like to shake my hips and feel the music. I can’t deal with all the steps and structure of salsa. Nevertheless, I had a great time.
I was out to about 4am. Several people from my hostel were staying out later, but I decided 4am was good for a Wednesday night and walked back with a few others, happy to finally get to bed.
The next day I was predictably hungover. I spent the day resting, making smoothies, soaking in the ocean, writing, and reading before turning in early to recharge before Friday.
Friday, after some writing and a late breakfast, I went to the beach with a couple Argentinos, Colobianos, and Nadine. We played soccer on the beach, took turns on a rented surfboard, and got high all day while passing around communal beers.
That evening after dinner, the group sat around on the patio drinking beers. Joanna from Sweden was a new addition to the group. She was keen to hang with Nadine and I—the English speakers. Sebastian (one of the owners of the hostel, a crazy fuck) showed up with about six bottles of rum, whiskey, and vodka, and the party really kicked into high gear.
The group headed out around midnight to Lost Nightclub. After a beer or two there, we moved on as there wasn’t many people there. Sebastian explained that Lost gets really going around 2-3am. We wandered the streets drinking and dancing. The streets of downtown Montañita are like Mardi Gras on a weekend night.
We eventually made our way back to Caña Grill for another dance fest. There I ran into Chris and Heidi. Heidi was dancing without crutches. She had made a full recovery from her surgery. I was glad and we hung out for a while having a couple drinks. They introduced me to their Kiwi friends they met up with in Montañita. I must say I was turned off by their friends. These three did not share the good vibes that Chris and Heidi gave off. They had a negative, low energy vibe about them, like drug addicts. After meeting them, I gave Heidi a hug and excused myself to get away and hang with the group from my hostel.
After a while, some of our group found our way back to Lost Nightclub. Now this place was cooking with a dark, underground, rave-like scene. Sebastian bought a bottle at the bar, and started passing out drinks. I immediately started dancing with a blonde girl from the US. Three minutes later we were making out, and the Colombianos standing 10 feet away at the bar let out a roar of approval. This made her self-conscious and broke up our little make out fest. She excused herself to the bathroom, while I chided them for interrupting while receiving high-fives. Carlos, Noam, and I went squeezed through the crowd to the center of the dancefloor, right in front of the DJ. Soon Noam and I were grinding on two South American girls like champions. It was intense debauchery of the most fun. We laughed and high-fived a couple times in the madness.
Eventually, I found Carlos, Fernando, Nadine and a couple others at the bar. They were leaving, and reluctantly agreed it was time to go. We stumbled to the door and a bouncer opened the door to sunlight. I had no concept of time after being in that rave atmosphere and was shocked it was already 6am. Everyone else was shocked as well. We stumbled home and had a few cigarettes and spliffs while commiserating about our drunkenness and the ones that got away. I finally got to bed at 6:40am. When in Montañita…
I awoke the next day at about 1pm. I splashed cold water on my face for a while, then walked to the tienda (shop) to get some eggs and veggies. I went into the kitchen to find the team carrying on as though we weren’t out all night. “How do these South Americans do it?” I wondered. I made breakfast and laid around for a while before taking a siesta until about 6pm. I got up, slammed a litre of water, and walked to the ocean. The day was overcast with a breeze. I took a dip for about 15 minutes in the ocean—just what I needed to wake me up and get me going.
I went home and did some yoga and pushups in my room to get my blood flowing more. I showered and was feeling better. I went upstairs to find the hostel deserted, except the Israelis lying in hammocks smoking spliffs. I headed out for dinner, and had a nice traditional meal of grilled fish, rice, beans, and salad. I had some helado (ice cream) to top it off.
I wandered back to the hostel to find several people on the patio with beers. They greeted me cheerfully, asking if how I was feeling and if I was ready for more fiesta. “Tal vez un poco,” (maybe a little) I responded coyly. I was feeling better than earlier, but still pretty rough. I was thinking I might go out for a little while, but nothing too crazy. I smoked a mapacho and halfheartedly sipped a beer with the team.
After a while the Argentinos made a bunch of burgers, of which they insisted I have one. One thing I will say about Argentines, they are always wont to share. Whether with (yerba) mate or the food they are cooking, they will nearly always offer others a helping, almost to the point of insisting they partake. A culture of sharing. I like that.
At about midnight the group finally headed out. We went to Cocktail Alley and bought beers and mingled in the streets. After a few drinks I was feeling like a champ again.
At one point David, Carlos, Bayron, and myself got separated from the rest of the group wandering downtown Montañita. We made our way into Hola Ola, a happening nightclub/bar. We had a few beers and did some dancing. I met an incredible, tall girl from Belgium and danced with her. After a while her friend pulled her away and I met up with the team. They were ready to try another place.
We went over to Lost Nightclub, but were unhappy to find it was a $15 cover. They refused to pay and as we were walking the streets I saw a group of three latina girls sitting on a curb, looking unhappy. I approached them and chatted them up in my best Spanish. I had them smiling before long. They were from Guayaquil and in Montañita for an Independence Day weekend vacation. I hit it off with one girl, Arianna.
We all took a walk along the beach, and went to check out some of the beach bars. We went into a couple different places, before finding one that was happening. We all shared beers while grooving on the dancefloor. Arianna and I were dancing together, vibing. I don’t know what happened, but one of the Arianna’s amigas slapped David and stormed out. Her friend followed, and Arianna grabbed me by the wrist and we went to see what happened. Her friend said David was being inappropriate with her (LOL – los Argentinos!), and wanted to go home. Her friend agreed, but Arianna worked it out with them to stay out with me.
Her amigas departed, as did my amigos, and Arianna and I went back inside. We had a beer and danced, before going for a walk on the beach. We sat in the sand and talked. Pretty soon we were making out and caressing. She kissed like a madwoman! Sucking and biting on my tongue and lips with fiery Latin passion. We carried on like this, intermittently talking and making out for a while. Soon we were laying in the sand, looking at the stars and making out.
After a spell, she said it was time for her to go, and I walked her home. We sat on the steps outside her hostel for about an hour talking, smoking, and kissing. She explained that she enjoyed my company, but I was a traveler and would be leaving soon, so couldn’t invite me up. I understood, but still persisted some trying to change her mind. Eventually, we exchanged info, and kissed and squeezed goodnight. I walked home while smoking a mapacho.
I was impressed that I carried on with Arianna in Spanish (she spoke barely any English) for more than three hours, and only had to use the dictionary on my phone 2 or 3 times. I guess I can speak well enough when the motivation is right. By time I laid down in bed it was already 6am. Where does time go in this town?! And I thought I was going to take it easy tonight
Sunday I woke up to eat, but then slept until late afternoon. I went for a swim and then watched Ex Machina (good sci-fi movie!). Virginia and Marielle made dinner and made sure to share some with me. That night there was a fire on the patio and the Colombians played guitar, bongos, and maracas singing Spanish songs. It was a lovely evening—quintessentially South American.
After eating breakfast Monday morning, I packed up and paid for my stay. Even though I loved the surfing and vibes, one week in Montañita was enough for me. After saying goodbye to everyone at the hostel, I made my way to the bus stop at about noon. As I approached a bus was pulling away coming towards me. I flagged it down, “Puerto Lopez, sí?” “Claro.” I threw my bag in and climbed aboard for an hour and a half ride north along the coast.
Puerto Lopez is a small fishing village on the Pacific. It is frequently referred to as ‘the poor man’s Galapogos,’ due to nearby Isla Plata (Silver Island) on which there are some of the species that also inhabit the Galapogos Islands. While it is regionally important as a port for commercial fishing and there is a lot of development near the malecón catering to an influx of tourism, Puerto Lopez is still a small, out-of-the-way place.
After getting off the bus, I walked towards the ocean in the hot midday sun. After looking about for a while, I settled in a dorm room at Fratata Hostel for $8/night. I went out and got a smoothie before finding a travel agency and booking a day tour to Isla Plata for the next day for $40. I found a supermarket and picked up some goods to make a healthy dinner and help me recover further from the weekend bender in Montañita.
I awoke the next day at 6am, meditated, had breakfast, and packed my daypack before walking to the pier to meet my tour group at 7am. There were about 20 people in the group and I was the only native English speaker—everyone else was either Dutch, German, or South American. We boarded a 40 foot powerboat and cruised for 2 hours, about 24km or 14 miles, to Isla Plata.
While approaching the main beach on Isla Plata, we were immediately greeted by several green turtles and we fed them lettuce and celery.
We jumped off the boat into knee high water and walked up to the welcome area of Machalillia National Park. Our guide led us on a two hour hike in which we saw blue-footed boobies, albatrosses, frigates, and several iguanas.
After the tour, we boarded our boat and went to a nearby cove on Isla Plata to snorkel over a coral reef. I snorkeled for an hour seeing several exotic, impressive looking fish. At one point I was immersed in the middle of a school of hundreds, if not thousands, of small shiny silver fish. It was incredible and quite trippy.
On the ride back to Puerto Lopez, the boat stopped about a mile off Isla Plata to whale watch. I was again graced with amazing, close-up viewing of a pod of humpback whales. A couple of times a whale surfaced only 20-30 feet from the side of our boat. I got to see another massive whale fully breach, and a couple smaller whales were putting on a show jumping regularly.
While cooking breakfast the next morning, I spoke with an Argentine girl who told me about a beautiful beach about a 30 minute bus ride away, Los Frailes. It sounded nice and I decided to go early that afternoon.
After a leisurely breakfast, I took a cab to the bus station. I learned it was a 10 hour ride to Quito. However, they had an overnight bus leaving at 8pm that night. Perfect.
After packing my daypack, I hopped a bus to Los Frailes. I got off at the entrance to Los Frailes National Park with an attractive South American lady. After signing in at the front gate, I started walking the dirt road towards the beach following about 30 feet behind the lady. There are three beaches at Los Frailes, but only the main beach is swimmable and the other two are only reachable by hiking. The lady stopped at a trail sign, and asked me if I knew where I was going. I said I intended to hike to see all three beaches, and said to just keep following the road if she wanted to get to the main beach. She elected to come along with me.
We started up a trail while chatting and getting to know one another. Andrea was 37 from Buenos Aires, Argentina. She worked in customer service for LATAM airlines and got to fly for cheap. She had taken the bus from Montañita and was almost at the end of her vacation in Ecuador. We were quickly acting friendly, and having fun speaking in a combo of Spanish and English.
After about 30 minutes we made it to the first beach. Simply breathtaking.
After enjoying the views, we carried on and made it to the next beach after another 15 minutes. Again, one of the most pristine beaches I have ever seen. Largely untouched by humans.
Andrea and I finally made it to the main beach. We laid on the beach together for a while, and took dips in the pure blue water to cool off.
At 4pm they closed the beach. After spending the afternoon together, Andrea and I had gotten quite familiar, and there was a growing mutual attraction. She arranged to stop in Puerto Lopez with me for dinner, then take the bus back to Montañita later. I was suddenly regretting having booked the bus to Quito.
In Puerto Lopez, we had beers and a seafood dinner on the front patio of a restaurant on the malecón as the sun set. We talked about our favorite music and movies, and were really vibing. I revealed that I had a bus to Quito to catch, and I could almost see the disappointment in her face. I offered to change my ticket and leave tomorrow, but she insisted I go as planned. We exchanged info and I vowed to see her when I made it to Buenos Aires. We said goodbye and had a lingering hug. We had such a wonderful day together, I still wonder if I misplayed this and should have stayed.
I rushed back to my hostel and hopped in the shower. I packed up and caught a mototaxi to the bus station. I arrived right at 8pm and rushed to buy a water and board. The bus departed about two minutes after I settled into my seat. I tried to read, but was still thinking about Andrea. Before long I dozed off as the bus lumbered through the Andes towards the capital city, Quito, Ecuador.
Street art from Montañita:
Street art from Puerto Lopez:
