So I’ve spent a fair amount of my days wandering this vast space looking for that elusive perfect wave. Fifty years on in my life, coming closer to elder status and moving further away from my youth, I now feel the need to share all this knowledge with the youngsters around me, maybe give them something that they could pass on in due time. And just maybe they could help me see some new things in an old place.

Kiteboarding in Southern California has grown exponentially since I first started taking photos of it in 1998. Back then I would have to hunt down kiters to get photos. My, how things have changed! Some spots have reached capacity crowds and some have even had restrictions placed on them. I don’t think that will ever happen in the northern half of our State––all the natural restrictions are already in place. Difficult if not foreboding access is a huge factor. Much of the area is far from the roadside and just plain out of sight. Sea and weather conditions can be a challenge. This whole stretch of coast takes the brunt of storms generated deep in the Pacific Ocean. And then there are the locals––sharks on land and sea that don’t particularly want to share these resources. Is it really worth dealing with all of this? Take a look at the photos, read about our latest adventure and decide for yourself.

At this stage of my life, I am extremely picky about who I travel with. Paradise with punks does not appeal to me. If life on the road has taught me one thing it is that the right crew is as important as the right shoes. Peter Trow is a great roady. He’s got the right attitude and the same sense of adventure that has kept me on the road all these years. Plus he rips any size wave anywhere in the world. I asked Pete to assemble a strike team to do a low-key kiteboarding insertion into an area known to the locals as the Mendonoma Coast. You won’t find that name on any maps or signs but in loose terms it defines the coastal zone from the north coast of Sonoma County to the south coast of Mendocino County. As the imbedded journalist on this sortie, I would be responsible for documenting our discoveries and reporting them in a manner respectful to the current regime. Is this beginning to sound like some sort of military stealth operation? In many ways, it was.

I told Pete to meet me at Fort Point, in the shadow of the Golden Gate Bridge just after daybreak with a map, a cup of coffee, and an open mind. I would review the troops, make any personnel adjustments as necessary and then entertain their vision of how this whole thing should go down. In a sign of the times, the real troops – U.S. Army Rangers in full military garb- kept a wary eye on us as we plotted our travels. Little did they know that they were looking at some of the best kiters in the world about to embark on a historic journey to tap the legendary wind and waves on the rugged coast to the north. Little did we know what a fun time was ahead.

Pete chose few, but he chose well when it came to who was on this trip. I was very glad to see Ammy Naff, a woman known to excel in extreme conditions. He also chose Josh Mulcoy, who is no stranger to the wild waters of Northern California. His fame in the world of professional surfing preceded him and his popularity on this trip would compel us to call him The Mayor. Josh brought along his video pal Mad Dog, appropriately named for his aggressive and relentless filming technique. Rounding out the crew was Kirk Peterson- the pride of Petaluma- his hometown that we would pass right through on our way north. Soon he would be nicknamed The Rodent in recognition of his strange sleeping habits. Later in the trip, Nick Geranio would swoop in from the skies in his helicopter and give us all an unparalleled view of the action.

So on a crystal clear California morning we set off across the Golden Gate without the foggiest notion of exactly where we would end up. Up the 101 freeway about 50 miles we made a cut for the coast that took us through the sleepy downtown of Kirk’s childhood. Kirk had grown a bit and so had Petaluma. We slowed our pace as Kirk pointed out every landmark of his youth that had been torn down after his departure – sad but true.

Upon reaching Highway 1, our first view of the blue Pacific was at Bodega Bay. We decided to press ahead to the town of Jenner, located where the Russian River meets the ocean. Knowing that a long winding road called Dramamine drive lay ahead, we decided to have lunch at the Jenner Inn. Our waiter was interested to hear about our plans to kitesurf this coast but was not forthcoming with any information that would make our search any easier. This became a recurring theme on the trip and the message was subtle but always clear- respect the locals and respect the locale. We made it clear to all that ours was a mission of exploration, not exploitation.

The area north of The Russian River but south of Manchester Beach is known as the Redwood coast. About halfway between these two landmarks is the town of Gualala, which is perched on the inland side of the Gualala River, nearby where it empties into the sea. By virtue of its midway position and its friendly saloon, we made the 102-year-old Gualala Hotel our headquarters. Our first day was very frustrating in our search for a good place to kitesurf. Just like many previous trips I had made to the area, hours were spent searching for access to the multitude of points and bays on the jagged coast. To be honest, I knew a sure bet could be had at a spot called Schooner Gulch, but I wanted our troops to suffer a little bit just to toughen them up. By the time we scrambled down the steep cliffs near the gulch, the wind had picked up to a gusty 18-25 knots. The surf was very small but everyone had a lot of fun pioneering a kiteboarding spot that has probably not been ridden before.

By the time we got back to the saloon at The Gualala Hotel, word of our adventure had spread like wildfire. Josh who was already a surfing legend, spent the better part of the night shaking hands and spinning tales about how great the kiteboarding was on the Redwood Coast.He made so many new friends and met so many that he never knew he had, that I offered to help run his campaign for Mayor of Gualala. If beers bought votes, Mulcoy for Mayor would have been a landslide!

The next day, Pete decided to call in some air support. Our buddy Nick flew his chopper up from San Francisco Airport, did a quick aerial survey and gave us all the info we needed to make a pinpoint strike for another session on the water. Ace videographer Mad Dog and I went up in the helicopter to get some overall views of the action and scenics. What lay before us was a spectacle the likes of which I have never seen in all my travels. This magnificent coastline was aglow with endless possibilities for kiteboarding and exploration. Hovering over the countless surf breaks like a curious seagull, we noted all of the potential spots. What would have taken us weeks to explore by conventional means, we checked out in a matter of minutes. Thank you Nick, for the ride of a lifetime!

The following day we went straight to a spot we knew would have all the ingredients necessary for some insane wave riding. Macking swells with a nasty cross chop earned the name Lumpys for this location. Sometimes you got the wave, sometimes the wave got you. After all full day of cracking some very thick lips, our crew was ready to head home.

Before we made this trip, I thought I knew this coast pretty well – at least well enough to call it an old friend. Well I guess old friends can still surprise you and teach you a few things you never knew.