Tall tales of swells calling Mundaka to be all time circulated as the 20 year storm bore down on Hossegor. On Sunday the decision to make the drive down to the Basque region and spend a night in one of my favorite little towns was made. That decision was very nearly put to rest by Mother Nature. I woke up with winds strong enough to topple pine trees and send economy sized garbage bins wheeling across the road. We were warned not to venture forth from the safe confines of our hotel rooms. We were told "get down here immediately". Mother Nature took a lunch break and hit the road. It was the fastest I had ever repacked my suitcases.
We arrived and it was the biggest Mundaka I had ever seen and this was my fourth year visiting the town. It was big but it too was lumpy. That didn't stop the numerous surfers, average joes the pros, locals and foreigners from having fun. One brave soul drifted with the rip out to the proper take off spot, took one wave and had all those lining the shore cheering. Instant celebrity.
Tuesday morning was a hoax. The swell had dropped over night sufficiently to turn the wave into an inconsistent fickle 3ft on low-tide. The norm for Mundaka.
I strolled the streets hipstamatic in hand just as I had done the previous night. Mundaka holds a special place in my heart and sours my feelings to see modern day developments taking hold of the small cobble stone streets. A beer, insalada mixta and cafe con leita con baileys at the casino. A beer at Bar Txopos. Hugs from Giuseppie. Photos of the town without contest paraphernalia and it was time for the drive down to Portugal.
It was a short visit. A visit that made me smile. Like old places and familiar faces I will return.
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