21 Photos: surf and slowing down in La Saladita, Mexico

Travel and lifestyle photographer Issy Croker is drawn to the overlooked and the everyday – finding beauty in local markets, backstreet restaurants and the faces of people who make a place tick.

My luggage was barely through the door of the adobe casita before I was reaching for my camera and heading down to the coast. I’d been quietly counting down the days to this Mexican escape and every minute felt too precious to waste. La Saladita, a quiet village on Mexico’s Pacific coast, had drawn me back once again. I wanted to capture the landscape and the unhurried rhythm of daily life that define this stretch of coastline. It’s a place that rewards those willing to slow down, with each day offering something different – shifting light, the people or the quiet moments that unfold along the shoreline.

Mexico has no shortage of beautiful coastal villages, each shaped by its own landscape and traditions. La Saladita is home to just a few hundred residents, a sleepy spot known for one of the longest left-hand point breaks in the Americas. The wave peels endlessly along the shoreline, drawing longboarders from around the world to share the water with locals who know every section of the water. I had ten days to settle into life here and it didn’t take long for it to start revolving around the ocean. My casita was just a five minute walk from the beach, with the centre only a little further on, making it easy to slip into the village’s relaxed pace. The only interruption came from the midday heat, which regularly nudged 40C. Before long, early mornings, ocean swims, cold Coronas and afternoon siestas had become part of my daily routine.

The first light of day, as the sun crept over the mountains to the east, cast the soft glow I’d travelled so far to photograph. Surfers waded into the clear water before paddling effortlessly towards the lineup, making the most of the calm conditions before the day began in earnest. The beach stretched endlessly in one direction, while the other met a rocky peninsula scattered with smooth boulders, shaped by years of Pacific swell. It was here, where the point wrapped around the headland, that La Saladita’s famous wave began its long journey towards the shore.

With my camera sealed inside its waterproof housing, I pulled on my fins and swam out. The water was so clear that every ride seemed to float above the ocean itself. Watching local surfers glide across the face of the wave with effortless style was as captivating as photographing them. Beyond the break, the volcanic mountains framed the coastline, their deep greens contrasting with the rich blues of the Pacific. One image – a lone surfer trimming across a wall of water beneath the mountain backdrop – became my standout photograph of the trip.

While the mornings belonged to the surf, the evenings became an opportunity to explore local life through its food. As the air cooled, La Saladita’s handful of restaurants came to life. Open kitchens and traditional cooking made every meal feel personal, while freshly caught fish dominated menus of ceviche, tacos, guacamole and hearty soups. Much like the village, everything felt unhurried. Families welcomed visitors with genuine warmth, creating an atmosphere that was as memorable as the food itself.

As the sun began to dip, the light softened once more. Rays filtered through the beachside palapas while fishermen cast their nets from the shore and the last surfers drifted across the horizon as silhouettes. This quieter hour quickly became my favourite time to wander with nothing more than a 50mm lens, capturing the details that gave the place its character. There was no need to search for photographs – they seemed to present themselves.

Photographing somewhere this close to the equator means learning to read the light. The warm, low sun at dawn and dusk creates the mood and depth that can be difficult to find during the harsher midday hours. Asking permission before photographing local people felt important, as did supporting the small businesses that form the backbone of the village. La Saladita remains refreshingly low-key and every meal, coffee or purchase helps support the families who call it home.

Leaving the main strip behind was equally rewarding. Hiring a motorcycle for the day made it easy to explore the neighbouring villages dotted along the coastline, each offering its own glimpses of daily life. These quieter moments were satisfying to capture: candid scenes, roadside encounters and landscapes that revealed another side of this stretch of Mexico. I rarely ventured anywhere without my camera, knowing that the most memorable images often arrived when I wasn’t looking for them.

I’ve returned to La Saladita time and again, and every visit leaves me feeling both fulfilled and reluctant to leave. This small stretch satisfies my love of surf photography while offering something beyond the waves – warmth, a slower pace and understated beauty that makes it difficult to forget. I have little doubt I’ll find my way back. For now, I’ll hold on to the quiet details that make La Saladita so special – the simplicity of life here, the kindness of its people and the moments that unfold when you take time to notice them.