In the late 1960s, my husband Jim and his college buddies in Los Angeles loaded surfboards onto a ramshackle pickup truck and headed south along the Mexican coast during spring break. stopping in Mazatlán, San Blas and Punta Mita. They slept in their van or under palapas on the beach – never spending more than $2 a night – and relied on local fishermen and vendors to supply them with fresh fish and fruit.

After hearing Jim’s idyllic surf stories for years, I suggested a road trip to revisit the haunts of his youth. We started in Mazatlán, at the mouth of the Gulf of California on the Pacific coast, where we now spend the winter months. Our goal was to find not only the cities, but also the exact stretches of beach where he stayed, where geography, winds and water currents converged to create world famous surf breaks.

Under cloudless February skies, dry desert air from the nearby Sierra Madre Occidental mountains heated the tarmac of the two-lane highway, creating perfect road conditions to get to San Blas. Along the road, the landscape changed from marshes and lagoons to plantations of mangoes, agaves and bananas.

The trucks moved back and forth, passing each other in an imaginary but mutually understood center lane. Roadside truck stops offered dried shrimp, shrimp ceviche, shrimp tacos and tamales, as well as jicama, jackfruit, coconut and water jugs.

We arrived in San Blas in less than four hours. Located in the state of Nayarit, north of Matanchén Bay, it is a sleepy town known for its history as a shipbuilding center and port during the colonial era; its naval base; its bird watching opportunities; and its insects (mosquitoes and no-see-ums), which swarm at dawn and dusk. San Blas is also famous in the surfer community for its sandy beaches and what was once touted as the longest surfable wave in the world.

It wasn’t difficult to locate Jim’s old surf break as the overdevelopment hasn’t marred the landscape of San Blas. We walked through the colorful arch of Playa Las Islitas and down a dusty dirt road along the mile-long beach lined with palm trees, thatched-roof shacks selling beach gear, and seaside restaurants. open-air serving grilled fish, ceviche, shrimp and beer.

Although the beach looks the same, man-made piers and a hurricane have filled the bay with sand, so visitors have to wade far enough to swim. The waves are now more suitable for beginner surfers or children. Surfers looking for bigger waves these days head to Stoners Point, accessible at the end of Las Islitas via an unmaintained dirt road.

Jim said he and his friends used to drive on the beach, taking turns picking up at the end of their walks of half a mile or more. “Those days are over,” he said. “But the beach is still breathtaking.”

The spectacular scenery doesn’t stop at the beach. At the top of San Basilio hill, the ruins of a 1770 fort, La Contaduría, offer a striking view of the city and the port. A few steps away, the romantic stone shell of the Nuestra Señora del Rosario church, circa 1769, provides Instagram-worthy backdrops. The ruined church also inspired the last poem written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “The Bells of San Blas”.

We couldn’t leave San Blas without an afternoon of bird watching. Our hotel concierge suggested the perfect guide: Chencho, 74, a native of San Blas who knew the estuaries, coastal mangrove coves and coves of La Tovara National Park as intimately as I know the routes to my places of worship. favorite swim. in the woods of my hometown.

We were able to approach and identify 28 species on our mangrove cruise, including familiar birds such as egrets, herons, ibis and anhingas, as well as species new to us such as the lesser vermilion flycatcher. and the primordial-looking boat. -beaked heron.

After three nights in San Blas, we set our sights on Punta Mita in search of the surf spot that at the time was celebrated as a classic Malibu-style point break, a long break wrapped around a small reef rocky. Jim called it “my own little Shangri-La”, a place where he and his buddies surfed all day and shared a palapa under the stars on a powdery beach at night. He proved almost as elusive as the fictional Shangri-La.

About a three-hour drive south of San Blas and about an hour northwest of Puerto Vallarta, Punta Mita — a knob-shaped peninsula at the northern end of Banderas Bay — has changed dramatically since 1969. Much of the sparsely populated fishing and farming community is now a gated private reserve of luxury resorts, private homes, golf courses and exclusive restaurants.

We wandered, disoriented and consulted maps online, hoping to match Jim’s memories with the altered landscape. We got our answer from the owner of Accion Tropical, a surf and snorkeling center located in the bustling village. The area we were in – a stretch of beach with bustling seaside restaurants, surf centers, craft shops, yoga studios and clothing stores – had sprung up in the early 1990s, when the government relocated residents from an area that is now in Punta Mita. .

The addition of rock jetties that stretch out into the sea, designed to provide a safe harbor for boats, has altered the currents. The result was a huge loss of sand that left a pebble and rocky beach in front of the previously perfect break.

No wonder everything looks different! Lalo Fernandez, the owner, suggested we visit the far end of the beach, near where the oldest restaurant in the area, El Coral, hosted its usual lunchtime crowd.

It was there, beyond the furthest jetty, that Jim recognized the place—and the wave. “I remember looking at the mountains and the sweeping beach and thinking it was such a beautiful place,” he said. Two 100ft Italian yachts were anchored offshore in what was once a remote and uninhabited spot.

Of course, it’s still a nice place. We celebrated with lunch at the seaside restaurant La Pescadora. Salty breezes chilled our sun-warmed skin as a whole grilled snapper marinated in smoked adobo arrived with heaps of rice, salad, fresh corn tortillas and fries with two salsas. We toasted with a Bloody Mary and Pacifico beer and declared the trip a success.

Today, surfers can be found much further south along the shore at Playa La Lancha. They park along Highway 200, grab their boards, and follow an unmarked path for a 10-minute hike through an overgrown jungle landscape. Eventually they arrive at a stretch of sandy beach with a point break at A and, if the swell cooperates, 6ft waves – their own Shangri-La.

Information: rivieranayarit.com