I just drove 2,100 miles. My destination was Gold Beach, Oregon. My purpose (okay, purpose may be a bit far reaching) was to windsurf the Oregon coast at Pistol River. If you don't windsurf you probably have never heard of Pistol River, but it is an amazing spot - remote, scenic, and when it is on, intensely windy. Unfortunately, I arrived in Gold Beach/Pistol River to the unwelcome chorus of "You should have been here yesterday." Prior to my arrival the Oregon Coast had witnessed two perfect weeks of wind and, intermittent, large surf. My time there consisted of four life-sucking days in the cold fog. I surfed mushy waves in super cold water, played a commanding game of tennis and beat the socks off a couple wily young teens at basketball. I also watched an odd, and slightly unsettling, fireworks show. The local civic leaders set off their display above the foggy skies of the Gold Beach marina. Each report was followed by an eerie, otherworldly glow in the cloudy sky. Think 1950's scifi effects. The crowd - essentially everyone in town - bundled against the cold, seeming more phlegmatic than patriotic. No one over twelve exhibited any sign holiday exuberance. Happy Birthday America, your tired, cold and blanket-covered masses would rather be in bed.
The upside of my trip to Gold Beach was seeing some old friends and acquaintances. Windsurfing the Southern Oregon Coast is a lifestyle choice for the hearty bunch of misfits who somehow survive there summer after summer. I'm amazed at comforted that this group still exists. Windsurfing a single day at Pistol River would be an over-the-top bucket list experience for just about anyone on the planet - think 40 naught winds and 15-20 foot surf - but this crew manages to do it day in day out year after year - unheralded, unknown and practically unseen. It was a letdown that I missed out on the Pistol River experience but...
After driving down from Oregon I arrived in Santa Cruz to find -trumpets please - wind and waves. Santa Cruz had been dead to windsurfing for two weeks, but this week the wind gods cooperated. I hit Waddell Creek for three consecutive days, with solid white caps and a healthy south swell. I sailed till I was sore, took a few waves on the head and, unfortunately, broke some equipment. Good times. The photos below where taken with my bar of soap-sized point and click, not the greatest but you get the idea. As for Pistol River...there's always next year.
