Below Sea Level: A Roark Strike Mission to Mexico
Words By Nate Zoller
There’s something about a hectic travel route - delayed redeyes, standby seats, tight connections - that makes arrival hit differently. The air smells richer. The heat hums off your skin. Even with sleep deprivation and foggy thinking, adrenaline has a way of carrying you further than you expect.
A couple weeks ago I saw a run of southern hemisphere swells lining up bigger than anything I’d seen that early in the season. I called Koa Smith to see if he was interested. He didn’t hesitate. From there, it came together fast. He brought in Shakir, his filming partner, and Max Beach rounded out the crew. Four guys. Light, mobile, easy to move.
We landed at the tiny airport fresh off a tweaked redeye schedule, grabbed our board bags, and were met by our longtime friend Gil—perfectly groomed white hair, smiling ear to ear. We dropped our gear and went straight to the beach, rinsing off the travel crust.
Down there, when a southern hemi swell hits, the energy shifts. Everyone’s scrambling, chasing whispers. Speculation flies between groups of hopeful surfers.
The wave we settled on wasn’t your typical definition of “perfect.” More like a slab of sand wedged against rock outcroppings. Warbly, ledgy, and hollow as it gets. Nine out of ten waves were completely unmakeable. But that tenth wave? Unreal. High risk, rare reward. The kind of odds that either scare you off or pull you in deeper.
For the first time on a trip, I wasn’t the first one paddling out. That was Koa. He lives for it—hunting these waves and figuring them out fast. Within minutes each session, he’d come flying out of below-sea-level tubes, backside, no grab, driving through dark sections at full speed. It’s technical surfing at the highest level, and it set the tone for the rest of us.
When the waves are this good, I stop listening to my body. The aches, the tight calves, the early signs of fatigue - they all get ignored. All I see is potential: an empty lineup, a pulsing swell, another chance. Max was the same way, wave after wave sending it on whatever the ocean threw at him. The three of us gave it everything we had during those couple days on the slab bar.
In a strange way, that feeling - that thin line between exhaustion and exhilaration - is exactly what keeps us coming back.
Bonus Watch
Curious what it’s like out there? Watch Koa Smith wrangle Mexican foamballs from his POV.
