It was my first encounter with surf culture. I had driven with a friend from the Oaxaca City to Puerto Escondido, at the end of that day-long drive down to the Pacific we needed a beer. We found ourselves in this bar up on stilts overlooking the surf, where terrifying, big and impressive waves thundered in. Amazingly to me at that time there were surfers out there, and periodically the bar would erupt with applause, laughter or shouted abuse, depending on what was happening on the break. Within the banter and competitiveness there was an almost tribal feeling, yet they were an unassuming sort of few pretensions, and even though I was an ousider they were friendly enough. The next morning I got up at dawn, went down to the beach and shot this series of portraits, I went back to the beach that same evening, and left the next morning.