By Paige Wright

To get to Playa Venao from Panama City it takes about a four-hour drive through highways, small towns, dirt roads, and what would be grassy mountains. Roy, Natalie, and I left at three in the morning, causing me to sleep through most of this, and I woke up just as the sun was slowly rising from behind the mountains. The sight made me instantly regret sleeping through most of the drive but I was excited about what was to come. We pulled up to Venao just as the sun rose completely into the sky, and as I stepped out of the pick-up truck for the first time since I’d left the city I realized exactly why I had decided to come here in the first place. It was beautiful. No major roads or buildings in sight. Just a few tents, a small family owned restaurant, and the ocean. The mountains were surrounding the water on both sides and the sun was brightly reflecting off of the water. The only thing missing were the waves. “Low tide,” Roy mumbled to himself. The ocean was flat, so we’d have to wait just a little bit longer for the waves to pick up. About two hours later, I got out of my hammock and looked out past the beach. The waves had picked up to about five or six feet and there was hardly anybody out in the water. After looking at the waves for a good ten minutes, Roy, Natalie, and I grabbed our boards and headed on in. The water was colder than I expected, but the salt water felt good on my skin as I tried to duck dive under the waves. I paddled over to Natalie and for a while we just sat on our boards, watching Roy take wave after wave. He had so much drive and so much passion for this sport. We watched with wide eyes as he did airs and cutbacks on what seemed like, perfect waves. Now it was our turn to surf. It was my first time surfing in Panama and I was eager to see how different it would be from surfing Florida waves. However, I kept becoming distracted by everything new that was around me. I noticed a group of local guys surfing and whenever a good wave would come they would whistle to warn everybody. They would also tell me where I needed to be and what wave I should try to catch. I remember thinking how much nicer the locals where than some of the ones from back home, and that comforted me. It was getting late and more people started to arrive at the beach, setting up their tents and hammocks, getting ready for late afternoon. We had no idea it was getting as late it was, and we still had a four hour drive back to the city. As I watched Natalie and Roy walk back to the pick-up truck, I sat on my board, feeling unsatisfied with my performance for the day. I’d had a few good rides but that feeling of disappointment was still there. I couldn’t leave Venao surfing the way I had surfed. “One more wave,” I thought to myself. And as the next set came rolling toward me, I began to paddle as hard as I could, even though my arms were already like noodles. I stood up immediately and turned to ride the line, sticking one hand out into the wave beside me, feeling the water quickly pass beneath my finger tips. This was it. This is why I had come to Panama. Sure, the beach is nice and the people are amazing, but it was this feeling that I was looking for. That was the wave I had been looking for. The wave that would define that trip, the wave that I would dream about that night, and the wave that would make me want to return to that same spot. There are many things that can define good surf trips, such as the people you’re with, the places you go, and the waves you ride. But it’s that one wave that gives you that one feeling of total triumph over everything that really defines good surf trips. And although it may only last a few seconds, it will stay with you for a lifetime, and allow you to relive that moment long after you leave.