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photo:Brad Anderson We are not offering trips at this time but contact us if you would like some help planning yours: you can reach Joseph at 619-203-1722. Please enjoy the rest of our site.
TODOS Todos Santos Tours and Surf ability levels Because of the nature of the conditions at Killers reef attracts the best big wave surfers from around the world because it holds a swell of any size.
Taylor Knox won the
In 2006 Brad Gerlach won the billabong XXL…. By towing into a 68 foot monster. http://www.transworldsurf.com/surf/news/article/0,,1184196,00.html.
Toby Cunningham, the 2003 Billabong XXL Big Wave Paddle Winner made his first voyage to Todos Santos Island with Joseph. http://www.towsurfer.com/ViewContent.asp?ContentID=602 Killers breaks on smaller days also. Starting at about head high and up you can push your limits as much as you want. The smallest days I call girl scout days but these can be the funnest with countless barrels to be had. There are other breaks on the Equipment On these trips you are expected to bring you own equipment but if you need help we can help you in this area. We can scour the local surf shops for the right board(s) and accessories so you are fully prepared for the prevailing conditions of the day. Basic Trip For your basic trip we provide round trip transportation from Average day An average trip to Todos Santos Island Goes something like this: Dream about the next time…. This is one long day!!! Rates 1-2 people for 1 day $790.00 3 people for 1 day $930.00 4 people for 1 day $1080.00 5 people and more….contact us for rates.
For those who have never been to Todos Santos Island, here's a couple stories to give you an Idea of what to expect. These are at the extreme ends of the spectrum of possibilities: one, the dream come true; the other, the nightmare come true. Nevertheless they are both true and if you book a trip you can hear a lot more and end up with a story of your own.
One Saint on All Saints Island (As printed in The Beach News Dec 19-25 ed.19??) Despite the heart-breaking number of surfers out at your and my favorite spot on any given day with any decent amount of swell, I recently learned that it’s still possible to get that unreal day at that unreal spot with no one out. This isn’t a story about a trip around the world to a spot that nobody has been before, but a tangible trip to a place that most surfers dream about, and fear. It’s the story of one saint on All Saint’s I was fueling up with some granola and a can of pineapple as I watched the mainland disappear into the fog. Looking into the mist surrounding the boat I pondered what the day might have in store, when the captain suddenly announced, “There it is! Do you see it? The Island.” Only then did he inform me that the compass didn’t work. It showed us heading northeast. “The whole time I no look this way or that way, just straight for the island.” The captain said. I smiled and asked him about the previous day’s surf. He told me that on Monday there were 45 guys in the water and the waves were 25 feet, with several broken boards. “Yesterday I had three cheekins,” he told me. “The waves were 20 feet. They see the waves and say, “We want to go home,’ so we left.” He didn’t have a body count for Tuesday. So Wednesday morning was a total turnabout. At A short time later we were watching as a set of 10 – 12 foot faces came rolling through and with great expectation I leaped into the warm water. It was fun, empty, overhead surf, real clean and the insiders were opening up nice. Ya know, those perfect overhead peaks that letcha catch ‘em real easy and when you get to the bottom ya just wait for it to stand straight up, then do a little snap in the bowl and soul-arch it just behind the curtain with a light mist on your face—ya don’t want to know how many of those I got—and the ones where the peak starts leaning toward the channel and you have to work to get into it just a little bit late, looking to see where the rocks are and racing for the shoulder, catching little glimpses of the lip passing over your head…yep those too...and the peaceful assurance that you won’t lose anything if you miss the first wave because there’s no one there to catch the next one either. Do you know the feeling? It feels good! I never dug a rail or wiped out, and only duck-dived four waves the whole day. Never lost my board and didn’t get a single ding, not even on the boat. It was as if nothing could go wrong. Eventually the stomach began to growl and a rise in tide made opportunity for a little snack. Before we left port I had the captain bring me some fishing poles, and while I ate we chased down a passing fishing boat for some bait. The fish were as easy to catch as the waves. The sinker would hit bottom and Back in the channel at killers things appeared to be a lot slower. Eventually a couple mushy eight footers came through, and I figured I didn’t have anything better to do so I paddled back out. Hitting the water must have turned on the switch because it wasn’t long before I was standing in one of those big open green-and-white barrels with one hand in the face and the other reaching for a distant lip. As I passed over the shoulder I let out a jubilant scream, looking toward the boat where the captain was sleeping and our hitch hiker, an islander we picked up while fishing, was dangling a hook over the side. In between sets I couldn’t help but chuckle and admire the beauty of God’s creation; the glassy ocean, the crystal clear blue water, the bright little fish swimming around, and even the detail of color in the rocks on the bottom. My blessing was in having it all to myself just for the day. I was in such ecstasy that I pretended not to notice when the captain pulled anchor and started doing circles, waving me to the boat. After all, he couldn’t leave without me! As the captain was cleaning my fish back at the dock I looked back on a dismal summer and tried to recall the last time I had such a fun day and gotten dry, stand-up barrels, and I remembered a day last spring with a couple of my friends…at All Saints Island. (Surfwriter note: Yeah Joey, but get to the good part, will ya?!) On Extremely large surf was ridden at other venues on the west coast on big Tuesday, with I was one of those “participants eliminated” that morning and here is my story. The Big, The Bad, and the Ugly By Joseph Descans As is with every one pursuing the elusive good days of giant surf, on
Although at that point in time it was normal for us to maintain a constant vigilance in observing the conditions in order to find the proper mix of tide, swell and wind to make for a good day at Todos Santos, I will admit that the $50,000 K2 purse significantly augmented that vigilance and if it were not for that golden carrot we probably would not have gone to the island that day. There would have been only marginal interest in a storm that surged into the wee hours of the morning. Sleep, study and sickness recovery would have easily won out over an arduous trek to Todos for giant junky surf. It would have been a day of rest for the weather radio. But because of the On Wednesday January 14th the first major swell of the season hit southern On Friday afternoon I was once again surfing Swamis in a much decreased swell but frustrated at my inability to utilize the most basic surfing skills; like paddling and standing on a surfboard. Suddenly, I had to use the bathroom, as in NOW! I rushed to the parking lot facilities and blasted out a burning mess before turning to see a toilet full of blood. This episode was repeated multiple times during the night and early morning hours. About midmorning on Saturday I got up to answer the phone. Seated quivering on a milk crate on the floor of my The next morning, with a broken spirit and body, I drove along Sunset Cliffs as some of the most beautiful waves rolled in to its reefs. Rob and Mike couldn’t find anyone to replace me, so they didn’t go. By Monday I was feeling better and I called Rob to try to get a ride on his boat for Tuesday but it was already full. There was a whopper swell on the rise with an equally impressive storm. It rained all day and the Northwest wind blew and the trip was in doubt from the beginning. Phone calls and weather checks were made continually throughout the day to try to estimate the next day’s conditions. Finally at Deceived by a lull in symptoms and lured by a $50,000 K2 Challenge purse Jon and I loaded a stack of surfboards on my truck and we headed for The saying of the day was “I’ve never seen that before!” A mystery peak in the middle of the ocean; waves barreling in front of and then sweeping over the harbor breakwater; small swells entering the Ensenada harbor…”I’ve never seen that before!” We chartered a local ponga, loaded up our stuff and headed for the island. The wind was offshore and as we climbed and descended the swells in the small boat it was obvious this would be an historic day. When we arrived at the channel near Killers Mike Parsons was already in the lineup and Allister Craft was jumping off the boat to join him while Taylor Knox looked on. The entire ocean was a moving, heaving, swirling, angry mix of swells, lumps, bumps and whitecaps. It was big, bad and ugly; the storm was over but the ocean was still in upheaval; apocalyptic. Occasionally a clean wind-groomed wave would rise and break in classic form creating a spark of hope that out of that mess one could actually find a rideable wave. Several waves broke far outside the natural Getty and rolled to the inside section, which was normally the west peak, and then barreled outrageously. The west peak usually starts breaking at about 30’ on the face. Jon Worked quickly to get in the water, but I took my time. Mike successfully rode a couple ugly waves while I prepared. I relieved myself once again before entering the water. Soon after I got in the ocean a clean wave rose in front of me which looked like I could catch, but I saw several sequentially larger ones behind it and decided it wasn’t wise to get in a hurry. Aaron Chang was photographing from the water on the inside. Occasionally a wave would get him. We could tell which ones would do this and watched pensively until we saw him emerge from the surface and then, relieved by his appearance, we laughed. Jon caught one clean wave and made it. I was happy to see him from behind sailing out onto the shoulder. After about half an hour I saw another wave I could catch and did so. I stood up and managed two big lumps before plowing into the third and plunged awkwardly into the face of the wave without really penetrating the surface. I knew this was bad and braced for the absolute worse but amazingly popped through the back without consequence. I noticed no wave behind it and gleefully chuckled as I climbed back on my 9’6” and began paddling out. The elation lasted only a few seconds. Allister Craft was waiting for a wave at the west peak straight out from where I paddled. As he gazed intently toward the undulating horizon he suddenly jerked to his belly and started paddling frantically. Seconds later the cause of his fervor came into view; when I saw it I knew it was the biggest wave I had ever seen at Killers* and calculated that the lip would land exactly where I was at in a few quick seconds. I gave myself a 10% chance of survival. As I slid off my board I saw Allister stand on his and dive into the face of the wave. An eternal silent moment passed as I struggled to escape the impending doom. Swimming toward the reef the silence broke abruptly as I heard the lip hit the water a few feet away and my board simultaneously cracking. The deepest whhhuuumpf I ever heard or felt sent shock waves through the ocean. Just outside of the impact area, I could feel my guts rattling around inside my ribcage. I once read a war story in which someone talked about experiencing the compression from a bomb and at that time I struggled to comprehend, but I now have a better understanding. The whitewater pulling my board slowly drew me out of the blue and into itself and I endured its wrath before rising to the surface to see a second wave. My board was still in one piece. Wearily I went under again and relaxed to conserve oxygen. After the second beating I mounted the remaining two thirds of my surfboard and limped back toward the ponga. On the boat I traded my former 9’6” for my 8’6” and headed back toward killers. When I approached the waves from the inside my new board felt uncomfortably small and I increasingly felt the futility of a second attempt. As I pondered heading back to the ponga waves over 50 feet broke outside and far out of my view. I only saw the massive whitewaters rolling toward me and again I was diving for the bottom. One of the whitewaters dragged Mike near me and our boards became entangled. He shouted for me to untie my leash but having already lost one board I wanted to save the other from certain destruction on the rocks so I left it tied. The two boards dragged me toward the island with succeeding whitewaters. When the waves subsided mike retrieved his board from the end of my leash and headed back out. Taylor and Jon’s boards were broken on that set. Jon said that when he dove underwater with the first wave he could hear his leash make a high-pitched whir as it stretched and then snapped like a gunshot. With his life buoy disconnected and heading for the rocks he faced the remaining waves on his own. As I hobbled back to the ponga after the last beating dysentery waxed strong in my body. For the next hour as we retreated back to the mainland I hovered in a nauseous state somewhere between passing out and throwing up. I wished one or the other would relieve me but I never did either. Back on the mainland as I sat slumped over the counter of one of the local food stands I slowly began sipping a bowl of siete mares soup. I nursed the liquid into my belly and it nursed me. By the time I finished the large bowl of soup and fishes I was remarkably revived and less than an hour later Jon and I were riding shortboards at San Miguel. In contrast, those playful waves were a welcome ending to an unforgettable day. * Surfer June 1998: 6-7 (47’).
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