Last summer's surf trip to mainland Mexico resulted in several DogMan columns, one titled "Third World Surf." That column posed questions expressing the guilt of a Norte Americano who traveled to a third-world fishing village for a wave-riding vacation.

This column is a response to the original. I didn't let go of the questions that haunted me, but continued to ponder, discuss, and finally to plan. Full credit goes to Mr. Low Profile, my surf travel bud of longest standing, for the actions we took. You see, MLP read that column a year ago, took its message to heart, and began a dialog concerning its theme and issues. MLP was on that trip, and both of us returned to mainland Mexico in July of 2004 to surf again. MLP suggested we do something positive for the small subsistence-fishing village; this column documents the results.

If you read the column on PWR, or if you've read it by clicking here. you'll see the general question it posed is this: What, if anything, do we owe the places we visit, for the privilege of riding their waves, for our self-serving surf vacation? MLP suggested we do something specific and concrete, albeit symbolic to show our gratitude to the locals. As you might expect, we are not the first surfers to "invade" their village and "steal" their waves. But we may very well be the first to do what we did in response.

Mr. Low Profile suggested we donate medical supplies to the village. To this original suggestion for gifts we added children's clothes and brand new baseballs. These commodities are rather basic and easy for us to acquire; we only had to make some space in our luggage for them. But in a remote village far from any shopping mall and full of working fishermen, such items as sterile bandages, children's aspirin, antibiotic cream, cough drops, and children's apparel are truly useful and perhaps difficult to acquire. And everyone in the village seems to play baseball.

Three of us, DogMan, Mr. Low Profile, and MLP's brother, came laden with such donations. One afternoon, after surfing all morning, the three of us walked through the village to the local medical clinic. We donated our medical supplies to a beautiful young woman named Marina who works there. Using our broken Spanish, and her broken English, we made our intentions known, she accepted our offerings, and described her gratitude. On the walk back to our camp my feet barely touched the ground. Though our gifts were not extravagant, they were appreciated. It made the three of us feel much better about our surf vacation and ourselves.

Back at camp our Mexican host, Natividad, learned of our mission, and offered to help. We still had the clothes and baseballs. Nat'y took me back to the clinic, since it was the best local concern for distributing clothes to those who need such. This time I had with me two large plastic bags of clothing and a local who could translate.

There were two different women at the clinic. Natividad explained who I was, who my friends were from the earlier visit, what we had in mind, and why we brought the gifts we did. Then he took my picture posing with the women. Back at the camp again, Nat'y asked me to sign the baseballs so the local boys team would know who to thank when they used these spanking new hard balls. He promised to deliver them himself to the coach.

Even now, as I type these words, the glow and tingle I felt then returns to me. It was by far the emotional highlight of the entire journey. I cannot count all the waves I rode while visiting. I cannot pretend the donations we made were in any way of similar value. But this time the three of us gave something back for the wonderful experiences and memories we shared in Mexico. This time we made a conscious gesture in recognition that we have been favored and blessed by our visit.

It's just possible that some who live there will remember us specifically as the surfers who came with gifts to offer. We didn't just come to take. For the questions posed in the original column I now have answers. You can indeed make amends for the obligations you incur by traveling to third world countries for surf. We who are so favored can easily find ways to make life just a little bit more comfortable for those who live in the locations we visit. Does this assuage my guilt? You bet it does, but I believe it does more than this. I believe that helping others, even in small ways, is worthy. I feel a small but important connection with the pescaderos and their familias on the mainland coast of Mexico.

I hope to return yet again next summer to surf once more, and I'll be looking to repeat the single best experience of the trip. I'll be bringing small gifts to donate to the people who "own" the waves I love to ride.

CU Out There,

DogMan