CONQUERING PUNTA DE LOBOS

All it took was a call from Robby Swift telling me that the swell-of-the-year was hitting in a few days. I was on a plane the next morning bound for Santiago, Chile to try to windsurf one of South America’s most iconic big wave spots – Punta De Lobos.
Story By Jason Polakow Photos Alfredo Escobar, Diego Figueroa, Nico Orrego & Pablo Berrios

(This story originally appeared in the October 2012 issue of Windsurf Magazine. Print and digital subscriptions for readers worldwide are available HERE.)

No windsurfer had ever sailed this heavy surfing location before. It was the perfect antidote I needed to jump-start my heart after a flatline start to the Hawaiian summer and a failed trip to Fiji earlier in the year…

ROCK HARD
Chile is home to some of the largest swells in the world. That, coupled with freezing water temperatures, makes Chile a magnet for the fanatical few that are willing to endure the harsh conditions to get a true taste of cold water adrenaline. It had been a 30-hour plane trip and a night’s rest before I got my first glimpse of this famous wave. The landscape and the way Punta de Lobos breaks are truly amazing. The land juts out to a very narrow point practically looking over the top of the break. It feels like you could jump off the point and with a few short strokes be sitting in the line-up. Two large majestic peaks of rock, known locally as the ‘rocas’ sit just to the right of the take-off zone. Large sea birds continually soar around them before perching themselves on top of these majestic pillars with the perfect view of the line-up. With all this unique landscape set around one of the best big wave left-handers in the world Punta De Lobos is a photographer’s dream.

I was totally mesmerized as I walked to the end of the point. Glassy 15-ft sets seemed to break right in front of me. It’s as if you’re in the line-up. You can almost feel the adrenaline going through the surfers’ bodies as they scamper over the set waves. I watched as they paddled into huge bombs, making the drop and then disappearing past the two ‘rocas’ pinnacles for the briefest of moments only to reappear on the wall of the wave streaking down-the-line and disappearing into the bay. Every surfer out there was either a Pro or a Major Player within the surfing world.

ASSUME NOTHING
As I watched this perfect left-hander go off I could not help but feel a little intimidated by the whole scene. With so much surf culture surrounding this area, you can’t help but feel a little out-of-place. Surfers at times can be very protective of their local spot, so then to add some windsurfers into the mix could make things a little dicey. With everything that was going on, I didn’t really even think of windsurfing until Robby tapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘going to be hard I think mate’. At that moment the magnitude of what we were trying to accomplish came into perspective. Neither of us had seen this place break before and our assumption that we could just show-up and start sailing seemed more and more unlikely. Robby started talking to some of the local guys that he knew and to my surprise they were quite happy that we were going to try to sail the wave. My demeanor changed right there from ‘let’s get out of here’, to ‘hey, maybe we can do this’. There was a helicopter flying around watching the surf and one of the local guys even called the pilot asking if he could land so that we could talk to him about taking photos. Unfortunately he couldn’t take his side doors off, which was a necessity for the camera crew. Everyone was very accommodating and friendly, a far cry from some of the locations I have been to around the world.  In southern Australia one time a guy with a gun chased me out of the water and told if I was to come back I’d be a dead man.

If we were to sail this iconic spot, it wasn’t going to be about whose ass we kissed, but rather, if Mother Nature would deal us a kind hand.

LEAVING IT TO LUCK
By 2pm there was still no wind and decisions had to be made. An entourage of photographers, videographers, jetskis and other people gathered around us wondering what the call was going to be. I set Robby aside and we both knew time was of the essence. If we waited any longer we were dead. We were literally down to a 3-hour window of opportunity. The plan was simple, to launch the skis, get into our suits, rig the gear and sit in the line-up and wait for a miracle. The miracle came through with a little puff of wind around 3:30pm. The lightest of breezes rippled through the line-up. We started to motor slowly out to sea, past the line-up of surfers and then jumped into the water. Robby was first in the water. I sat and watched as he just floated there like a buoy in the water, stationary. I knew right then and there I was going to have some problems catching waves. Robby, living in Chile now, had all his equipment with him while I had only a limited choice.

SCREAMING LEFTS
I joined him and together we drifted towards the take-off zone. It’s always a little nerve-wracking when you’re at a new place and unfamiliar with the break. Do the big sets break further out? Can I make all the sections? All this pours through your head. If you wipeout your day could be done and with the precious daylight we had left, none of us could afford to make a mistake. After about 10 minutes Robby was on the first bomb wave. I watched in excitement as his mast disappeared from view and then moments later spray would pour off the back of the wave. I heard a little squeal from the little piglet as he exited the wave and I knew right then, it was on. I tried frantically for 30 minutes to catch a set wave, but even on Robby’s borrowed 85L board it was difficult. Once you jumped-off the ski and drifted into the line-up you would only get one chance to catch a wave before the ski would have to pick you up again. The current proved a significant problem due to the wind being so light.

BEAT DOWN
Robby and I made a plan to jibe off the wave after we passed the last rock tower, due to the wind being so light in the bay. It seemed the perfect solution as I watched Robby come out 3 or 4 times on the ski shouting with joy.  I started edging closer and closer to the impact zone and eventually I pumped my way onto my first wave.

I was joined by local big wave surfer Ramon Navarro who had also paddled into the wave. Together we rode the first wave, giving each other a little Shaka towards the end of the ride just to say that everything was cool.  I turned off my first one like Robby, but I had planned to see the huge, wide set wave breaking just in front of me a little wider! I lay in the water next to my gear as 20 feet of white water bore down on me. I concentrated on breathing deep and long and tried not to panic. At the last moment I stood on my floating sail and dived as deep as I could. Icy cold water engulfed my body and I got tumbled around like a rag doll. Normally I would wear a flotation device when the surf gets over 12 feet but airport security in LA had confiscated my CO2 canisters, so I had nothing to wear. While under water I heard my mast snap like a toothpick and I knew I’d be down for a while. When I got to the surface I immediately waved for the ski to come get me. As I lay there waiting, I thought to myself that my day might be over. Flying all that way for one average wave was not what I had hoped for. Sometimes you get lucky and sometimes you get unlucky when riding big surf.  When the sets are that big and you’re that close to the impact zone you catch what you can when you can regardless if it’s the first wave of the set or the last.  Robby had been picking-off set waves and then jibing-out with no close-outs behind him. It wasn’t anyone’s fault – I just got unlucky, plain and simple.

CATCHING A DRIFT

The rescue ski took me back to the beach and I started to rig a new sail as fast as I could.  At times, while rigging, I could see Robby carving off the tops of the waves. It was pure torture for me and I wanted to be out there so badly.By the time the ski got me to the outside break the wind had picked up enough for me to sneak into a few rides.

Robby was all over it, snagging every wave as we shared and ripped them apart together. Even with the increased breeze we still needed jetski assistance to get back to the line-up. I would be sitting on the back of the ski holding my gear watching Robby drop into a bomb hooting and shouting at him. We started doing some crossovers, where one of us waits on top of the lip until the other bottom turns under the other. I hadn’t done that since Jaws a few years ago.

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