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Some people come and go in a surf camp, but now and then, someone leaves behind a deeper impression — a quiet legacy that keeps paddling alongside you, wave after wave. For us at the surf school, that person is Luciano. Or as most of us know him: Lucho.
Originally from Argentina, Lucho joined our little surf family with the kind of calm energy that only comes from someone who truly belongs in the water. He didn’t need to talk much to be heard — just his presence in the lineup, his smooth style on a wave, and the way he carried himself around the surfboards and sandy floors of our surf school said everything. Lucho wasn’t just another instructor. He was the essence of what surf culture is all about: simplicity, flow, and a deep respect for the ocean.
You’d find him early in the morning, always barefoot, checking the swell with a cup of coffee in hand. He never rushed. He moved with the same rhythm as the tide — observant, patient, connected. And when the time came to paddle out with guests, it was never about showing off or dominating the waves. It was about helping people feel what he felt — that quiet joy when you’re balanced on a board and the ocean carries you forward.
For many of our guests who came to learn how to surf, Lucho was their first real introduction to the surfing lifestyle. And what an introduction it was. He had this way of making people feel comfortable instantly, no matter their skill level. Whether you were a complete beginner in a group surf lesson or someone staying with us for a full surf camp experience, Lucho made you feel like you belonged — not just to the class, but to the sea itself.
There’s a special kind of magic in teaching people how to surf. It’s not just about pop-ups and board control. It’s about helping someone shift their perspective, let go of control, and learn to move with nature instead of against it. Lucho understood that deeply. He didn’t just teach — he guided. He inspired. And he made it look effortless.
Forever in the Line-up
Even now, after some time has passed, his energy still lingers around the camp. Guests who return often ask about him. “Is Lucho still here?” they’ll say, their eyes lighting up with memories of early surf lessons and long chats after sunset sessions. Some remember the way he corrected their stance with just a few words. Others remember the way he waited for them after a wipe-out, grinning and patient. Everyone remembers the feeling — the way Lucho made surfing feel personal and possible.
And then there’s the video. Yes, that video. We stumbled upon it not long ago — a deep-sea creature with a transparent head and slow, steady movements captured by oceanographers. Instantly, someone in the surf shop laughed and said, “It’s Lucho!” And honestly? It kind of is.
There’s something in that surreal little fish — so calm, so strange, so perfectly adapted to its environment — that reminds us of him. Not because he was weird (though he had his moments), but because he was rare. Someone who didn’t need to be loud to be known. Someone who always knew where the swell was coming from. Someone who could see through the noise and find peace in motion.
At our surf camp, instructors come from all over the world — Argentina, Spain, Australia — and each brings something unique. But Lucho brought soul. He didn’t try to be anyone. He just showed up with his board, his smile, and his deep love for surfing.
We still share stories about him when we gather around the table after lessons. Sometimes it’s a joke he made, sometimes it’s just the way he surfed a particular right-hander. And every time a new guest stands up on a wave for the first time, we imagine Lucho giving a quiet nod from wherever he is now.
If you’re reading this and you’ve ever had a lesson with him, you already know. And if you haven’t — well, maybe you’ve still felt a little bit of his energy in your board, in the water, or in the gentle push of a surf instructor who truly loves what they do.
Here at our surf school, legends don’t disappear — they just paddle out a little farther.
Keep reading
Meet the people who teach on Famara beach today on our team page, read Andrey’s essay on why surfing swings between happiness and frustration, or come and feel it yourself in a beginner surf lesson.
