Day Three:
Jim was right, the waves were huge. Enormous, black, moving fast and breaking with tremendous force about a mile off the coast. We were an hour north of Tamarindo, and there was a broken fence with a dilapidated shanty on the far side of the rocky beach where the jeep was parked. I looked at Jim, his face tan with pre-mature wrinkles and a 2 day stubble of pepper black and grey hairs.
He seemed content to watch the waves roll in, not really blinking, eyes fixed to the binoculars. "Shit" he muttered, "this is epic"
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