It was that time of the year, I needed an adventure. I had been itching for an escape and a road trip along the Baja coast had been at the top of my bucket list for a long time. I consulted my good friend Google and began planning our trip around what would become my first experience surfing under a full moon. Browsing stories of perfect, moonlit waves in Scorpion Bay had me out of my chair and packing before the first leg of the trip was planned.
One month later, and about 500 miles south of home, we woke up at the beginning of the Baja peninsula. My Dad and good friend Connor were up early with an urgency to the hit the road. Quickly tearing down camp, we loaded up the surfboards and were southbound. We would eventually drive through 140 miles of unkept backroads, salt flats, and several more unknown obstacles along the beautifully rugged Baja coast.
The Mexican sun was shining and the stoke level was high.
On our way out of town, we popped into Victor’s for some legendary breakfast tacos then onto The North Road towards Scorpion Bay.
Not long after leaving San Ignacio, we stopped to help a local who waved us down from the side of the road. He was having car trouble and had been waiting hours for a passerby.
I then realized how desolate this adventure had quickly become.
We didn’t see pavement for another six hours. With another “Y” around every corner, we made a number of wrong turns. In all honesty, I sort of enjoyed the confusion and sense of being lost. It was a part of the journey. Besides, we had the best company, plenty of beers, and waves in our future.
Our paper map and trusty dashboard compass kept us headed in the right direction and by late afternoon we had reached Scorpion Bay. Having cooled celebratory beers to crack open at the campground, we parked the truck and soaked in the glory of reaching our destination.
In front of us stood the perfect camping spot; on the bluff, looking straight out at a second peak, and the entire lookout to ourselves. Each perfectly groomed wave rolled in with the south swell, breaking in a machine-like fashion over the sand bar. We set up camp, sucked down a few more Pacificos, and stared out at the ocean in awe.
When you’re away from the light pollution of the city, you get a taste of how beautiful the night sky really is.
That evening, moonlight glistened on each perfect set, illuminating barrel after barrel. We stood in awe for what felt like hours before I nudged Connor and told him to suit up. The next thing I knew, we were paddling out under the full moon. Connor pointed out at a black wall rolling toward us. We both turned and started to paddle, not knowing if we were too deep or too far on the shoulder. The wave picked us up and started to carry us towards the campfires along the bluff. I popped up and looked out at the long glimmering wall ahead of me and rode for as long as I could. The wave eventually died and I fell back into the water wondering when I was going to wake up from this dream.
Lucky for me, it was reality.