A long time ago, in the early part of a certain November, hundreds of young men and women traveled to a small and unknown Caribbean seaside town to witness a gathering of their Champions of the Waves.

 The town was Rincon and the event was the 1968 World Surfing Championship. It is rightly said that Rincon was not even on most maps of Puerto Rico.

 Those of us who lived in Rincon during November of 1968, observed the steady arrival of American teenagers, seemed to quickly adapt to the surroundings and proceed to have good, clean American fun. The adult townsfolk who did not approve of this invasion were subjected to disappointed glances from their teen and college-age children, who upon seeing all these young people moving about and successfully organizing themselves without constant parental control, noted what they observed for future use. By '68, The Beatles had instilled change in the youth of Rincon, but the arrival of those youngsters shifted that change into light speed.

 Once the event was over and all the visitors returned to their lives, the Rincon they left behind would never be the same. As a student in the capital city of San Juan, I had kept my boring hometown somewhat of a secret. After word about the contest had spread, I returned to the University of Puerto Rico to be considered cooler than I already was, just because I was from Rincon and got to go back on weekends and vacations.

 Forty years later, Rincon has become a must-go surf venue and while the mighty waves still roll towards our pristine beaches, the town has undergone a transfiguration that has made it into two separate destinations: one for surfers, another for non-surfing tourists. In some ways, Rincon is still off the map and collectively behaves like the crew of the S.S. Minnow: marooned in paradise, but having enough fun to not worry much about it. Maybe that’s why the first celebration of the fortieth anniversary of the ’68 contest happened in California.

 The changes since ’68 are self-evident to those that visit our town and view the pages of Rincon-PR.com. Of course, as in every ocean paradise, there’s always the other side of the coin, albeit not as tarnished as the ones in other beach towns. Rincon is a great place to live in and visit and though it remains misunderstood as a “cheap destination” by the travel industry, I like to say that Rincon is natural and authentic. Rincon is for those that find it, love it, to stay or return.

 In Rincon, we still remember those champions and the hundreds of teenagers that made their way to our beaches- and into our hearts and imaginations. Those who were here in ‘68 had better experiences and memories than the youngsters who attended a rainy rock concert in an upstate New York farm in ‘69. Many have returned to stand on the same beaches and paddle out to similar waves. They’ve also had the good fortune of sharing Rincon with newer generations- their sons, daughters and lately, their grandkids. Here, the Legend of ’68 is passed on though personal accounts and faded photographs on the walls of our guesthouses, inns and personal websites.

 To celebrate those days of pure fun and excitement, I’m planning to simply dig my feet in the sand of the beaches where it actually happened, look out to the waves and rewind my mind to those great days, forty years ago.