Over the few days I got to know El Russo, I discovered his sea change story hadn't been as breezy as the coastal cliffs of Chapadmalal. His story told of heartbreak and loss which came to a pinnacle when his self built house with all his musical equipment and memorabilia was mysteriously burnt to ashes while he was away in Buenos Aires. He explained how some country folk took him in and calmed his fuming mind before he proceeded to work alone and shirtless through the freezing winter weathering frigid rain and sleet building a new life - which is his current silo made home.




We jammin!



I managed to borrow an old board from a neighbour and before long I was finally surfing th great Atlantic Ocean. I got some really fun waves in the glowing light blue then retired back to El Russo's settlement and hung around the warm fire. El Russo's love of music soon became obvious as after dinner we were drinking Argentine wine smashing out tunes with a full drum kit, numerous types of African drums, a guitar, bass and amp and a couple of acoustics at our disposal. We played as loud and as passionately as we could till the early hours of the morning before passing out in our tent with ears ringing.