A SURFERMAG.COM EDITORIAL EXTENSION FROM ISSUE 40#11

Surfing in Acapulco with Jaime Glenn

You need to know something about Surfing Jaime has all the information for you and all the good spots. Plus he is a film maker, writer, video production director, photographer and just an all out fun guy.  To learn something about his serious side here is an article he wrote about Surfing in Mexico.

by Greg Waters 

                                               The Mysterious Death of "El
                                                 Campeon" and the Rebirth of
                                                    Surfing in Acapulco.

story and photos by
Jaime G

EVENCIO AT BONFIL.
 
 

Across the aisle of the bus going back to Acapulco sat Javier
Hernandez Castaon, also known as "La Charra," the only Mexican
surfer to compete in the 1998 Oxbow World Masters Championship at
Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca. Javier exploded out of his T-shirt after
surfing 15 days in a row with the largest congregation ever of
ex-world champions. The last time his surfing muscles had puffed out
so much was half a lifetime ago. Over 40 (and perhaps over the hill),
stroking into some of the world's most powerful waves is not exactly a
vacation.

For Javier, the only disappointment of this 'happening' was the
absence of his generation of Mexican surfers at this once-in-a-lifetime
event. I felt a twinge of sorrow for Javier as we headed back to our
homes in Acapulco. His dream was over.

JAVIER AT THE OXBOW.As the bus rolled on, I reflected on
the Oxbow contest. What an event. For a few days, the idle poor were given a chance to
mingle with the idol rich. Javier was as star struck as I, and I figured he was just another gawker with a camera. Javier led me around the judges' tower to show me the billboard-size
elimination brackets.

I took a  picture of him pointing at his name. "La
Charra" had outsurfed at least half of his heroes. We strolled back to
the palapa pavilion where the legends waited idly for their heats. I
meekly asked him which one was Nat Young. "The one with the big
dick," answered Mr. Young, as he wormed his way up to the front row
of chairs to sit with the other superstars (Jim Banks, Buzzy Kerbox,
Ian Cairns, Rabbit Bartholomew). Nat must have heard me. I took that
opportunity to whip out my collection of photographs of the largest
waves to ever hit this beach. Nat and Banksy plowed through my
pictures of El Nino in '82/83. The little child had flashed us its first
major tantrums and flushed us all out of the water. I couldn't help but
fantasize about these guys out in that surf, back in their heyday.

JIM BANKS AND NAT YOUNG 
CHECKING OUT THE PICS.

Back on the bus, the essence of corn farts, sweaty straw hats, new
leather and damp burro saddle blankets pulled me from my thoughts.
It was going to be a long ride back to Acapulco, so I settled into my
earphone music when Javier handed me an old audiocassette of some guy
hollering into a microphone. The cacophony of ambient sounds is as
tense as a drum roll, as trophies are being presented after the 1983
Mexican National Surfing Championship held at Puerto Escondido. The
voice commanded the restless crowd's attention. It thanked the
sponsors, the burro-crats, the lady with the beautiful eyes and the
luck of fantastic waves.

Listening to Javier's tape was like watching a movie with my eyes
closed. The distorted macho voice could hardly be heard for the
anticipation of the upset victory. Finally, the runners-up were
congratulated one by one. The voice quelled the discord by declaring,
"If anyone objects to the judges' decision, step forward right here,
right now and protest." There was silence. His tone quickly turned
apologetic. "Surfing, like life's destiny, depends a lot on luck...the
winner's trophy this year, by a margin of six points, and if anyone...
may you forever hold your peace! The new champion is Javier
Hernandez Castaon!!"

BUZZY KERBOX, JOEY BURAN AND JAVIER.

Now the recording sounded like a bunch of pushing and shoving. Loud clapping in unison
could be heard and cheers and chants of, "beso-beso, beso-beso, beso-beso" (an almost
jeering command to kiss) like Mexicans do after every wedding.

The microphone sounded like it was being trampled by a swarming riot. It was crammed into Javier's face as the chants of "Beso, beso," rumbled on.

I handed the tape back across the aisle to Javier, smiling
congratulations and shaking my head in disbelief. He asked me if I'd
ever heard of EVENCIO and his disappearance. I nodded "yes," but a
silent (but deadly) bus full of onlookers and eavesdroppers was no
place to hear the best and final version of this intriguing mystery.
Evencio's supreme talents in the water have not been exaggerated
over the years. The mystique of his death, however, has reached
mythical proportions. Like an interactive story, the participants chose
an ending that suited their world view, religion, philosophy, intuition,
or imagination. Call it multiple choice.

The trophy would NOT go (for the sixth year in a row) to EVENCIO
Garcia Bibiano. EVENCIO was, and is, Mexico's greatest surfer. A very
popular and gracious sportsman and gentleman during his reign. The
national championship went to Evencio's best friend since childhood
(and practically a brother to him).

EVENCIO was not the best man that day. Oddly enough, he had not
even placed in the top 10.

-El Misterio-

On November 3, 1985, in plain view of more than 1,000 spectators on
the beach, EVENCIO Garcia Bibiano vanished not into thin air but
dissolved instantly into the sea. Many will tell you, as if present that
day, "A great shark snatched him right off his board in mid-air, leaving
only a munch-mark on the board (a simple case of hysteria mixed in
with the true account of the shark attack on another local, Ariel
Maldonado)." An old friend said, matter of factly, that EVENCIO
morphed into a dolphin and is still out there protecting us, patrolling
the deep blue seas.

"EL CAMPEON." PUERTO ESCONDIDO

Very straight faces have told me, "A submarine
kidnapped him away" and "A mermaid seduced him
away," or, "He performed a Houdini-like escape from
pregnant girlfriends and newborns waiting for him on the beach." A conspiracy had scuba divers hired to kill him.

Some have insinuated that EVENCIO had begun to dabble in drugs,
downing Oaxacan mushrooms; and just before his death, "cho-chos,"
an amphetamine.

In the morning, before the contest, EVENCIO or "El Campeon" as he
was known, was seen with the gringa, Maria, who owned a sandal
factory. According to an old lifeguard, they were seen embracing in
public just before the competition. She had been coming on a yearly
basis and, supposedly, was on the verge of arranging sponsorship for
EVENCIO and was going to take him to Hawaii. One of the more
convoluted perceptions has EVENCIO doing some kind of "Great Escape"
as an insurance scam.

But in front of thousands of scrutinizing fans who idolized his every
move?

The mystery all began at the Bonfil beach break, near Acapulco, with
only seconds remaining in the last heat of the qualifying contest for
the upcoming national championship, to be held in Puerto Escondido. It
was sadly close to some lame Hollywood script. Unfortunately, this
story was all too true.

JORDY DE LOS PAVOREALES AT THE BONFIL.

EVENCIO died riding his last wave. The contest was over.
No trophy celebration. No bikini contest. As usual, it
was a foregone conclusion, he was so far ahead in
points that the last wave was inconsequential.
 

Nevertheless, he took off on a dumpy little left wave, frontside, which
closed out as he apparently kicked out. "El Campeon" toppled slowly
backwards behind the wave. The board flew up in the waning offshore
breeze and landed nearby, not exactly on top of him, though. It was
unclear whether he was kicking out, or intending to bounce off the lip,
or re-enter over the falls of the final spilling section of the pointless
wave. EVENCIO was well ahead of his time in surfing style, and any
maneuver was possible. He was the first to consistently perform
acrobatically: aerials, floaters, carve 360s or spin in the foam. And
EVENCIO was a master of the classic style of big-wave riding. He
fearlessly charged at spots such as Puerto Escondido, Revolcadero,
Barra de Coyuca, Petacalco, El Rancho and Rio Nexpa.

"El Campeon" never used a leash. And if one expected a fancy answer,
or some deep significance in not attaching himself to the surfboard,
Evencio's explanation was simple: leashes were too expensive. After
so many years as a kid learning to surf without a leash, I suppose he
felt hobbled, especially when he rode switchfoot. "Besides, when he
fell off his board, he was such a fast swimmer." recalls German "Ye-Ye"
Palma, original surfing buddy and brother-in-law. "He was Aqua-Man."

At the water's edge, a youngster retrieved the riderless surfboard. He
screamed for EVENCIO. By now, a couple of minutes had already
passed--though no one will admit it. The attention of the crowd
diverted to others surfing back to the beach. Once the realization set
in, a frenzy ensued. A sea of humanity searched and searched for The
Champ, anyone with a surfboard, anyone who could swim, even those
who could not swim, women and children wading, looking and looking
desperately.

Javier remembered a cloud of suspended sediment formed by a rip tide
blossoming in the area of the fall. Binoculars spotted something
resembling a head, or coconut, bobbing behind the plunging breakers.
A skiff, already on patrol, approached it only to find an oblivious diver
spearfishing palometas. The diver later recalled feeling something big
barely touch him as it went by under his fins. (Was it a huge shark or
Evencio's unconscious body drifting by in midwater?).

"The water
was so clear
that day you
could see
the rippling
sand on the bottom," remembered one observer, who wishes to remain
anonymous. "People were infuriated when I paddled and actually surfed a wave while looking for him. I was just trying to cover more area, faster. "How could you?" they screamed in frustration.

On the beach, the hysteria spread with men, women and children in
disbelief--many cried out loud. Others staggered around in shock. The
waters of the Bonfil (good son, in French) had taken away Mexico's
all-time greatest surfer. Many will tell you proudly, "'El Campeon' died a
winner and will forever remain a winner." "El Campeon" was more than
a nickname. Among his peers and acquaintances throughout the
Revolcadero village and neighboring Puerto Marques, it was, and still
is, his name.

Javier spent five days and nights in constant vigil on the beach
waiting, looking and hiking up and down--hoping to find his friend. A
close family friend, Arturo Monroy, drove his jeep back and forth for
weeks. The desperate surviving family consulted a bruja,
(sorceress-witch) who had a vision that his body was stuck in a
sunken tree at the bottom of a rivermouth. On this advice, the family
drove daily to Barra Vieja where the Tres Palos lagoon empties into
the ocean.

There was no EVENCIO. No sign of "El Campeon." Hundreds looked for
him. "He wore red surfing trunks and a bright orange Lycra shirt," was
the mantra of those who searched. Clear water, clear skies of the dry
season, boats and planes and helicopters crisscrossing all over the
place. Nothing.

A smattering of unsubstantiated leads took the family up and down
the Mexican coast. A small piece of red sailcloth washed up on the
beach at Puerto Escondido brought the family south. A month later,
they drove to Marquelia near the first major point south of Acapulco
to identify a drowning victim in red shorts. It was definitely not him,
though it has been said that the remains were utilized for life
insurance purposes (the Mexican government had refused to indemnify
the Garcia family for lack of physical proof. According to others, the
government never paid the insurance claim, even though EVENCIO was
a federally employed lifeguard).

-La Herida-

There never was a
burial ceremony.
Needless to say,
there was no trophy
ceremony for the
runners-up that third
day of November .
Thirteen years later, at our first meeting with Monroy, he brought the folder
full the certificates of appreciation for organizers and volunteers of the fateful contest. Monroy gave them to Javier in order to pass them on to long lost friends. "Javier still has the horn," said his wife, Rocio Valverde. "He really took it hard. He actually got sick from all the stress." Rocio remembers Ariel Maldonado and others getting drunker and drunker at the first all-night vigil. "They hollered at the black ocean: Get out of the water, Cabron! We know
you're out there! Come back."

It took an entire generation of Mexican surfers to get over this
trauma. Maybe this will help explain why Javier was the only Mexican
to surf in the Oxbow Masters recently. Many quit surfing as the, "I
told you so" mentality was overwhelming.

"We were freaked out," explained Javier. "But we went on to the
Nationals that year, only two weeks after the incident. One of our
guys surfed well. I laid off for seven years. This has been a major
comeback for me. I thought about EVENCIO the whole time I was in
Puerto."

The hidden fears of this wonderful sport were aggravated permanently
by the fear of the unknown and general lack of closure. The mystery
of Evencio's death left the wound wide open. Forever.

Evencio's father prohibited Evencio's children from surfing. A couple of
years ago, I chatted with a beautiful teenage girl at the Bonfil beach.
She said that she loved to surf and denied having any fear of the
sharks or the big waves. Her nickname was Peca (freckle) and she
eventually informed me that EVENCIO, "El Campeon," was her father
(his wife and tiny kids, by the way, never attended the contests and
so they were spared from witnessing the horror).

After the tragedy, it was open season on surfers. Rationalizations
of Evencio's death ranged from the superstitious to the ridiculous. Some
naive elders would say, "You see what happens to those alcoholic,
drug-addict marijuanos." Or, "It's God's little surprise for bums and
rip-offs, especially those who, who cheat on their wives!"

 
 
 

EVENCIO'S DAUGHTER, AMELIA, WITH
RABBIT'S BOARD. NOTE BUGS' SIGNATURE NEAR THE FINS. HE
GAVE THIS BOARD TO JAVIER AFTER THE OXBOW
EVENT.

-Vida en la Playa-

EVENCIO was an outstanding lifeguard. He single-handedly rescued
countless of victims from the ocean. He was a professional. On the
tower, "El Campeon" ignored the constant distractions brought on by
his fame and easy-going personality. He was a serious guy; he hardly
ever joked around.

The flow of touring surfers always came looking for him, inviting him to
surf different places or to go out at night to the discos on the Costera
(hotel row in town). That sort of lifestyle would have ruined most
people. He never drank. He was very "fresa" (strawberry); a local term
for "clean and sober." To EVENCIO, surfing was never a "scene" or some
rebellious trip. It was a sport, just like boxing was to WBC World
Champion Marcos Villasana (who lived just down the road from
EVENCIO). Surfing to EVENCIO was just like soccer is to Jorge Campos
(who grew up in the next village, and who still surfs at the Bonfil).

"El Campeon's" dream was to travel to California and Hawaii and
compete with the best the world had to offer. In the meantime, he
was content surfing alone every morning on the stretch of beach from
the Copacabana to the "Revol". This was his everyday commute to
work--ripping peaks all the way to the Princess Hotel or the rincon
(beach corner) at the Revolcadero.

Rapidly, the local beach people where being forced from the beach.
Villagers and neighbors of EVENCIO were being ousted by the federal
government to make room for the tourism real estate boom. EVENCIO
was homesteading a new place for his family of five, a few miles down
the beach at the Copacabana. Their time would come too, as the
government was claiming property and selling it off to the highest
bidder.

Evencio's marriage was
going fine prior to his
death. Although, like any
teenage couple, they had
to overcome some growing 
pains along the way. He balanced the responsibilities of supporting a family while holding down a highly prized job and surfed every free moment of his life.

Rodrigo Huerta, local surfer and newspaper publisher, remembers, "I
was promoting surfing events and starting surf clubs all over the
place. And I always took EVENCIO with me. We were trying to legitimize
the sport, make it something worth striving for," said Huerta. "So we
solicited government permits and funds to sponsor trips and prize
money. We cleaned up the "surfer bum" image while managing to have
a good time. Families came out together to see us surf. EVENCIO won
almost every contest. He got special permission to leave work to
compete as far away as Ensenada, Mazatlan, San Blas, Rio Nexpa,
Zihuatanejo and Puerto. I organized the first national championship at
Petacalco in 1978, which EVENCIO won," reflected Huerta. "After his
disappearance in 1985, the whole thing sort of fizzled out. Many quit
surfing--even talking about it. Evencio's father hated me for the
longest time; he just recently started talking to me again. I can
understand. 'Gotta blame it on something."

"Ye-Ye" remembers Evencio's dad dissecting an old, leaky rubber mat
left behind by a gringo. "He learned to make them so that the boys
could rent them on the beach. We were self-appointed lifeguards
when we were punks. "EVENCIO must have saved thousands from the
rip along the point," explained "Ye Ye" as he thrust his finger in its
direction. "Often, tourists were sucked out by the dozen. "El Campeon"
would haul them in one by one. Sometimes, we got huge rewards,
sometimes just a Coke, most of the time nothing except for a 'thank
you.' On really slow days, EVENCIO, Javier and I would mess around in
the foam of the surf. Eventually, we got up to our knees and even
stood up on the stubby rubber and canvas mats," said an excited "Ye
Ye." "As we got older and our moms weren't looking, we paddled out
into the big swells, flopping in on our bellies. We tried anything that
floated, even scrap wooden boards. Then, gringos started showing up
with surfboards. That's when we really started learning fast." The
amigos would take turns when the gringos came in for a break, to rest
or eat. Over the years, surfers came from as far away as South
Africa, Hawaii, California, Texas, Florida and Carolina.

EVENCIO. ON HIS WAY TO WORK.

The kids who grew up on those beaches in Acapulco most 
often dropped out of school and went to work on what used to be their
very own beaches. What seems like little, they have had to fight for
violently: maintaining concessions for restaurants, selling souvenirs and renting beach toys to tourists has become a daily battle with corrupt officials trying to take over their turf. Just a month ago, heads were bashed by sticks
and stones as the police left their guns in their holsters. Local
headlines and bloody photos showed three near-dead cops laid out on
the street side by side. The local instigator was jailed, but promptly
released when threats escalated. Javier even has a fresh lump on the
top of his head and cracked ribs from an altercation on the beach
where he and his sons rent Boogie Boards. The fight broke out when
they were accused of stealing tennis shoes--a ploy to bump off the
competition for beach territory. It is "dog-eat-dog" even among the
locals.

The boys begged. They borrowed. Repeat visitors often left their
battered boards. EVENCIO and the boys were becoming very good at
mending broken boards. Soon enough, they were winning surfboards in
contests."Ye Ye" never had much luck in the contests, though he was
one of the best. He was invited to surf in the Oxbow Masters.
Unfortunately, just a week before the event, 'Ye Ye' was hit by a car.
A broken collarbone kept 'Ye Ye' out of the water.

-La Jornada-

Recently, while
reflecting on
EVENCIO and
the passing of
time here in
Acapulco, we decided to take a long hike down memory lane. Javier led
the way, with the only surfboard, as we followed without
surfboards--just as it would have been in the past, I am told. Crossing
a dry, sandy creek bed and poking through some bushes, we
approached an old, lonely concrete house. On the porch, a very old
man was melted into a hammock. "I want you to meet my
grandfather," said Ye-Ye, "He's the first one to live here, and they still
can't get rid of him--he is the last holdout." I started shooting photos
while they visited. He doesn't notice as his cloudy, white-blue eyes
were fixed on his grandson, a grandson old enough to be a
grandfather. Javier whispered to me that I was quite possibly looking
at the oldest man alive. Just before we moved along, I handed the
oldest man a palm-size recorder. He knew what to do. "My name is
Sabino Palma Rodriguez. I was born in Tres Palos in 1882, and because
I was a Maderista, I was mistreated by the Zapatistas and forced to
leave town because I supported the President of Mexico at the
beginning of the Revolution," the old man dryly whispered. "I joined the
army in Acapulco and became a neighbor to Puerto Marques in 1918. I
obtained a legal title to my land where I live here in the middle of...(he
mumbles something) maintained by my little trees. An orchard of
mangos, tamarinds, cocos and bananas. And the government has not
paid me for my property, which goes all the way up to there (he
points eastward). I've been fighting over this for two years...nada
mas." We said good-bye. The gentle, elderly man was close to
120-years-old.
 
 

JAVIER, EL VIEJO AND 'YE YE.'

 
 

Continuing on our journey, we snaked our way through the
bush on the trails of centuries past. Puerto Marques was named after
a pirate who worked the area, and, with its many nestled coves and
bays, an ideal hangout for buccaneers. The area also was and is an
ideal place for baby surfers to grow up. Approaching the ghost village,
vacated by its residents at the hands of the government, Javier
pointed to where his house once stood. "The best years of my life," he
reminds himself softly, referring to his surfing days with EVENCIO in the
early '80s. It was from this tiny tropical village that the young men
were hitting their prime: surfing and raising families in an idyllic setting.

What they could not afford to buy from the store far away was more
than compensated for by hunting and fishing. Javier pointed across
the streaming canal. "See that row of stumps over there, that was a
pier. EVENCIO and I duked it out there once. It was the only time,"
explained Javier. "Over there," pointed La Charra. "They filmed
Tarzan." Johnny Weismuller lived out the rest of his life in this jungle
on the beach. He was buried in a simple grave in Acapulco.

Javier remembered seeing Howard Hughes: long greasy hair, long
fingernails clutching big wads of tissue paper so as not to touch
anything directly. During his last years, Hughes rented the entire top
floor of the pyramid-shaped Princess Hotel and the entire floor below
as an empty buffer.

In the shadow of such luxury, EVENCIO, Javier and "Ye-Ye" grew up in
the corner of this beach created by a jungly promontory that juts out
to sea, several hundred feet high. Their homes made of palapa and
hueso with dirt floors. Back then, only the fishermen lived on the
beach. Everyone else preferred living near the highway. Since the
beautiful people of Hollywood and the international jet set began to
congregate here, everything changed. In 1964, a daughter of the
famous movie producer, Darryl Zanuck, married a local beach boy and
brought the first surfboard to Acapulco. Surfing was an elitist sport
back then. You had to have a car to get to the beach. And if you
lived on the beach, it was most likely that there was no money for
surfboards. Only vestiges of the original Revolcadero village remain as
hurricanes, major floods and government intervention erased history.
One storm washed everything out to sea, including collections of
surfing trophies and photo albums. Boats were left hanging in the
trees. Javier's only salvage was a silver medal for the state
championship of Guerrero.

RIO NEXPA.

The
present
generation
of surfers live away from the beach--scattered in the hills where the government reimbursed the beach people with land not quite so lucrative. Javier just finished construction of a concrete addition to his adobe with the money from a few gaping barrels at the Oxbow. He won't have to climb a tree to see the approaching swells with binoculars anymore.

Reymundo, one of his brothers, an excellent surfer back then,
remembers getting chewed out by EVENCIO for not going to a contest
in Puerto Escondido. EVENCIO had placed second at the '84 Nationals
and insisted that El Rey was much better than the guy who won.
"That's the way "El Campeon" was," recalls "Ye Ye." "Besides sharing
boards with us--most of all, he fired us up to surf, cheering us on,
complimenting our waves or maneuvers. He never bragged or even
described himself on a wave. He inspired us to compete, in the good
sense of the word."

EVENCIO was strong, in character and physique. Barely five-foot-six,
he had thick, wavy brown hair that bleached to orange at the
tips--even blonde at times. He was a couple of years younger than
Javier, so he would be almost 40 now. He died when he was about 25.
Ye-Ye adds, "He was aquatic, a fantastic swimmer. A true surfer
spirit. He was a quiet person. Mellow. He had lots of friends, they
were always looking for him to surf with or to go fishing." I left him
with the recorder and when I returned a good while later, "Ye-Ye" had
been repeating over and over, "EVENCIO was buena onda (good vibe).
Lo maximo (the max). Everyone looked for him to go surfing, to go
fishing at the lagoon." Ye-Ye concluded somberly, "We were brothers."

-El Renacimiento-

Javier, Evencio's best friend, remembered that about nine months prior
to his death, EVENCIO had suffered a hard blow to the head by his
surfboard. Just before the contest, the severe headaches had
returned. He had ignored a doctor's advice not to over-exert himself
physically. So Javier thinks that his amigo suffered from an aneurysm
and a subsequent brain hemorrhage during his last ride. After that, it's
anybody's guess. Did a shark get him immediately, or later on? The
radio broadcasted that it was a heart attack. "El Campeon" was one of
those rare surfer-athlete-acrobats that always seemed glued onto his
board. The way he fell back in slow motion, it just wasn't like him.
Very mysterious.

Acapulco, the birthplace of Mexican surfing, has a long way to go to
be put back on the surfing map. The area has been avoided after
years of "The Surf Report" warning of rip-offs and sharky waters. And,
yes, there were many sharks. Before it was outlawed, shore fishermen
exploited the waters with explosives- killing fish easily with bombs and
collecting the stunned floaters as they washed in with the waves.
This technique inadvertently became the underwater dinner bell for
sharks from miles around who quickly responded to an easy meal. The
rest of the sharks have been over-fished by local boats as well as
Japanese fin collectors.

The waves in this region of the Mexican mainland are exceptional.
South of town, endless miles of world class beach break await the
keen visitor. On the hike back, Javier's booming voice echoed in the
canyon. "Tubo! Tubo! Tubo-o-o! Lobo! Lobo-o-o! Lobo del Mar!" He
was trying to rile up old surfing buddies to go surfing again. Their was
fire in his eyes. He once again held a lust in his heart for surfing.

The mystery surrounding Evencio's death, as well as his absence
from the area, are still hard pills to swallow. However, the locals are
finally moving on. Javier's two sons have grown up, and they often
surf with him. His older son placed second in the recent EVENCIO
Memorial Contest. Javier has two new boards, thanks to Nat Young
and Rabbit Bartholomew. The local surf club is starting all over again,
with its eye on the next world championships. At the first meeting of
the Asociacion de Surfing del Estado de Guerrero, Javier was greeted
as the "living legend." They have turned the corner. Javier's
appearance in the Oxbow Masters was the first positive to come from
Acapulco surfing in quite a while. "We have our identity back,"
explained Javier. "For a long time the talk was all about the mystery.
We have moved on."

EVENCIO AT PETACALCO.

For more information about 
any of the photos in this piece or to correspond with
Jaime Glenn his email is: jaimeglenn@yahoo.com
Greg Waters

News From Jaime 2005 from Mexico Surfing
 

All Rights Reserved Jaime G1999 @