I’m standing with my surfboard on the beach in Pichilemu, Chile. It’s January—the height of the Southern Hemisphere’s summer—the sun is out, and there’s a near-constant breeze rolling in off the Pacific Ocean. A series of black-sand coves frame the main attraction in these parts: Punta de Lobos, a left-hand point break that curls gracefully (in gentle conditions) around an outcropping of jagged rock.

1. Women lead the way in the world’s
next great surf spot
Along Chile’s vast, rugged coastline, female surfers shine in competition
and conservation.
I’m standing with my surfboard on the beach in Pichilemu, Chile. It’s
January—the height of the Southern Hemisphere’s summer—the sun is
out, and there’s a near-constant breeze rolling in off the Pacific Ocean. A
P H O T O G R A P H B Y M A T I A S D O N O S O
Paloma Santos catches a wave off Puertecillo Beach, near Pichilemu, just one of the spots
drawing adventurous surfers to Chile‘s undiscovered coast.
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2. series of black-sand coves frame the main attraction in these parts: Punta
de Lobos, a left-hand point break that curls gracefully (in gentle
conditions) around an outcropping of jagged rock.
This scene could be in Maui or Southern California—except the trees are
pine, not palm; the water hovers around 60ºF; and there’s hardly anyone
around. Sheathed in a 4/3mm Quiksilver wetsuit—appropriate for “winter-
worthy warmth”—I haul myself onto my board and start paddling out with
equal parts thrill and terror.
With roughly 2,500 miles of north-to-south coastline, Chile is truly one of
the last frontiers for surfing. Visiting surfers will find mile after mile of
unexplored and empty beaches and waves, backed by a smattering of
welcoming fishing villages. The cold water, remote location, and lack of
tourism infrastructure has meant that Chile has remained off the radar for
most globetrotting surfers, who head instead to places like Ireland and
China if they’re looking for adventure, Bali and Hawaii if they’re not.
(Learn about surfing’s surprising history.)
But the past 20 years have seen a notable increase of interest in the sport,
and with the development of a surf culture that is uniquely Chilean, there’s
also been a greater emphasis on community and sustainability.
Homegrown surfers are some of the most audible voices lobbying to
protect the raw gems they know they have, and in more recent years, those
voices have become more and more female. In a country which, pre-
pandemic, was in the midst of social change, women are riding a swell of
© NGP, Content may not reflect National Geographic's current map policy.

3. community activism, at the forefront of both a developing political
movement and the advancement of a sport.
Undiscovered waves
The unofficial surf capital of Chile, Pichilemu is a small, former fishing
hamlet of 15,000 inhabitants located roughly 130 miles south of Santiago.
Its resident wave—the left-hand Punta de Lobos, meaning “Wolves
Point”—can produce waves upwards of 20 feet.
In 2017, after a successful joint effort of fundraising and campaigning by
the non-profit Save the Waves Coalition, outdoor gear company Patagonia,
and a locally established nonprofit called Fundación Punta de Lobos, the
coast was dedicated as the seventh World Surf Reserve, protecting the
break and surrounding area from future development.
And in 2020, the Chilean government approved the creation of Piedra del
Viento Coastal Marine Sanctuary. The sanctuary protects 10,000 acres of
coastline north of Pichilemu and is the first protected area in Chile to take
wave protection and surfing into consideration, preserving six notable surf
breaks.
P H O T O G R A P H B Y M A R T I N B E R N E T T I , A F P, G E T T Y I M A G E S
Chilean surfer Antonia Vidueira competes during the semifinal of the Maui and Sons Pichilemu
Women Pro Chile 2016 competition.

4. Other small, developing surf towns, such as Matanzas, Reñaca, and
Totoralillo—all north of Pichilemu and outside of the protected areas—are
also growing in popularity alongside Pichilemu. And though the
conservation projects are on a smaller scale as of now, so is the
development. These places can easily be compared to California in the
1950s, when bobbing boards in the water were still a novelty and jerry-
rigged thatched beach huts hawked rentals and lessons to the few that
came seeking the laidback surf culture.
(Winter surfing is hot. Can it survive climate change?)
It’s all new here, but “there’s so much potential [for surfing] in Chile if we
can manage to protect the source of it all,” says Ramón Navarro, the name
most often associated with Chile surf, both as an athlete and as an
advocate for its protection. He was the first Chilean to become known in
the international competitive circuit, as well as the on-the-ground guy
leading campaign efforts.
Mainstream surfing in Chile traces its roots to the 1970s, when youth
started seeing Brazilian tourists bring boards over on holiday, searching
for new waves outside of their country, where the sport was much more
established. Before that, it had been considered the realm of rich kids, or
just simply unattainable, as there was nowhere to buy a board.
Female surfers wait for waves during the semifinal of the
Maui and Sons Pichilemu Women Pro Chile 2016 competition.