Trying to avoid being cuffed and dragged away by Mexican police officer is the last thing you want to happen on a surf trip, this was the exact position we found ourselves in, A trip south of the border went from empty waves, cracking a few cold ones with the boys, to nearly being hauled off in a Mexican paddy wagon. Our trip originally meant to be a journey south to the famed Seven Sisters, a region of right-hand point breaks far off the beaten path. Our trip plan didn’t align with the swell and just barely missed the peak of a solid NW pulse. A quick decision was made by the crew to stay in Northern Baja to try and catch a bit of the fading NW swell whilst we still could still get waves.

A widely known section of coast, littered with peaky steep sections of beach breaks was our first stop. Although surfing in this area is much like the crowded spots that line the coast of Southern California, there is still an aspect of adventure knowing you aren’t on home soil. As the session came to end we packed up, shared our stoke from the morning and ventured a bit further south to Ensenada. A major plus to being in Mexico is the variety of exceptionally cheap beachfront motel options, a room here can cost as little as a case of beer back home. We shacked up for the night in a dingy coastal roadhouse, had a few cold ones talking about where the next day would lead us.

As night gave way to daylight, as it always does the sun peaked over the horizon highlighting the fading swell which could be seen from our far from luxurious balcony. Sights were set low as we drove to a Baja wave notoriously known to be as crowded as most of the waves in our northern homeland. There is a nearly 100 percent chance of an overdramatic and argo local stealing your wave right in the most pivotal section and proceeding to fall head first into the face. Although the folks who surf San Miguel can make your blood boil, the wave on a well lined up swell is much like Lower Trestles that’s been juicing on steroids for decades… Long playful sections give way to a steeper and hollower inside section that break right onto of shallow rock base.

Expectations were low, as the diminishing swell wasn’t giving us much to work with. However, once we got there to our surprise the wave had almost no-one in the line-up. The allurement of such a sight, consisting of head high waves, glassy conditions and only a handful of surfers drew us into the water and had us there for hours. Who knows how long the session lasted, all that mattered was the fun being had. Nearing exhaustion, we unanimously realized how rare an opportunity came and unfolded to us that day. As friends do after a great session in the water. A few too many beers were had. Being that we were in Mexico where the Tequila is more plentiful than water, a few too many shots led to a night of debauchery that almost led us to be thrown into a sweat lodge with bars. At that moment in time, everything that happened seemed like a good idea, as we broke things down later we saw the entire situation was just bad timing and shady people.

The following morning was off to a wonderful start, a mind-melting hangover that to this day I will never forget and an extremely pissed off Taxi Driver who was yelling Spanish outside of our window in a much more aggressive tone than what I had remembered the night previous. I saw an unopened beer, proceeded to skull it and make my way outside to try and figure out the situation at hand. My Spanish is a little broken, but between the three of us and a friendly hotel staff member, we realized that his 100 dollar taxi fee wasn’t paid. A few words were exchanged and the situation calmed down for a brief moment. Now, this where it all began to go downhill and fast. Between the 3 of us on the trip, we didn’t have one working money card, because the previous night one of the bars we were at happened to get their hands on the money in our accounts (A reason in itself to never bring anything more than cash with you to Baja).

Pure panic set in, all our money was gone, and we had no means to pay the taxi his due. The hotel staff explained to him our situation of how our banks blocked our cards and our money was missing, needless to say, he didn’t care at all and just wanted to get paid. Understandable. Our option was to go into Rosarito, find some cell service to call our banks or anyone to wire us some cash to pay for our midnight drunken ride. The taxi driver was mad, really mad. He followed us around and showed us more Atm machines but nothing was working. After an hour or so he wasn’t having it and decided to call the police, they showed up. The taxi driver had told the police we tried to leave without paying, among other things.

Our current situation was seemingly hopeless and looking directly into us being taken away into and tossed into a barred future. We explained we could trade boards and they didn’t have much choice unless we could gain a few more hours of time to get the money, the taxi driver and the police were hardly willing. My friend handed over a small quiver of boards to the taxi driver. We took down his phone number so we could call when the 100 dollars available to get our boards back. The three of us watched as he drove off freakishly fast with half our gear. Fast forward a few hours and multiple attempts to reach our banks with no luck I remembered I had a couple hundred dollars still in my PayPal from a recent print sale, but no way to access it.

The stars aligned as a moment presented itself, it was as if the sky had finally opened up and let a few rays of much-needed warmth enter the day. An American man pulled into the gas station parking right beside where we were sitting down thinking our next play. In a frantic move, I made my way over to him and asked if he had PayPal, which he did. I told him about our current situation and that none of our cards had been working at any Atm’s so could he please get money with his bank card after I made a PayPal transfer. He was more than willing to lend a hand, and in doing so saved us from rotting in a jail cell.

Without sheer luck of timing and whomever, you may be that bought that print, the outcome of our surf trip could have ended in much less than ideal scenario. That exact moment was one of the most ecstatic and stress relieving feelings I’ve had in recent years. That being said we were able to track down the taxi through a friendly local and get the boards back. So the trip consisted of money was stolen through fraudulent bank transactions, the police were brought in and threats of prison time were made. In the end, we made it out alive with nothing more than a hangover story that will live in infamy in our memories. A surf trips are meant to be adventures, this one definitely ended up being just that. An Adventure.

Photography © Austin Mullen follow him on Instagram.