- Day 1 Gualala to Salt Point
- Day 2 Bodega to Russian River
- Day 3 Drakes Beach to Lawson's Landing
- Day 4 Limantour to Bolinas
- Day 5 San Simeon to Piedras Blancas
This trip was going to be a little different than my last few adventures. It was going to be lonelier. It was going to be encompassing an area I have long considered to be one of the most amazing coastlines in our state based on its diversity and geographical uniqueness. Parts of it would be actually familiar from trips back in college or road-trips where I was on land looking out at the water. Some parts I was familiar from having paddled adjacent stretches with good friend John Hadley, who hosted me in the past to show off his playground 6 years prior. But with all this familiarity came a knowingness of what I was getting myself into. Unlike some other coastlines where I was embarking on the unknown, this one was known. And having seen huge waves, giant sea stacks, warning signs of what lies within at various beaches, and gaped from the various cliffs above at the vastness of it all, I was in for a doosey of a week.
Fortunately for me I was once stoked to have a killed land crew support team, my buddy Phil who I have been surfing with for over 20 years. While he isn’t a paddler, his understanding of the ocean is stellar and something I knew I could lean on. He was hesitant for my previous offers to join on these adventures, but somehow this one he was convinced to join. I told him we’d see unreal coastline and go on an epic adventure. Hopefully I delivered.
Phil and I rolled in the first night to my buddy John Hadley’s house. My previous paddling up here was with John and he opened my eyes to how the locals tame the coastline when the winds are over 40mph and 10’ seas. He is a legend in my eyes. Big waves for breakfast, closeout barrels for lunch, and a personality as gregarious and full of aloha to match. We feasted on bbq ribs and laid out the plans for day one the next morning. And wouldn’t you know, John agreed to join!
Having him there for the kickoff was a huge boost for confidence to get things started. This coastline is rugged. And having someone familiar with it to join that I have paddled these with in the past was great. I also got news that another awesome friend, Hussein Sayre would try and join. His videos for Focal Box Productions help put paddling in the realm of respect that it deserves but rarely gets. The fact that he is also a badass paddler is often overlooked since he’s usually pointing the lens on others. Starting my multi-day journey with these two was going to be awesome!
Day 1 - Gualala to Salt Point
The next morning we drove up to Salt Point which would be our finish line. Fueled by some great Danish and coffee that John recommended, we pulled into the state park and were met with south winds and a ton of fog. We intended to paddle south and finish here from Gualala river to the north 20 miles. But the south wind suddenly had us questioning our direction. Not to mention the fog always makes things a little spooky. As we hung out there to get the lay of the land, and met up with Hussein, the mood suddenly took a weird turn. We walked past a ranger who was on the radio notifying HQ that there was a scuba diver who had lost contact with his dive buddy for over an hour. They were using binoculars to try and locate him in the calm cove nearby. We each took turns scanning the water in hopes of finding him in good health. John and I had each started planning for some water-based recon on our craft if it would be helpful. The plan of paddling taking a back seat. As we discussed our paddle plan, and kept an eye out for the diver, he surfaced and made contact with his buddy and the ranger about 15 minutes later. While the fog was still thick, we each felt a warmth of sun and relief on our faces as this good news hit us.
We got in the cars, and caravaned north to town of Gualala and the Gualala River. Our journey ready to be embarked on. After scoping out the launch spot and gearing up, we waved goodbye to Phil who would be following alongside on land on Highway 1. The river was inland a mile and the sky was blue. But the second we got to the river mouth and ocean, the fog presented itself. We portaged across the sand spit, and timed the launch into the ocean and shore-break. I almost lost my shoe on the first wave I was going to go on, and had to backup as my foot sank. But next attempt was off. Hussein and John had no problems. We turned did radio check with Phil, who’s call name was Hint of Salt (he mistakenly bought the low sodium Hint of Salt Ritz Crackers on our grocery run and we never let him live it down) and headed south.
John was on SUP and while he is a super strong paddler, SUP speeds are slower than outrigger canoes. So he was working really hard to keep up with us. We didn’t mind the relaxed pace however and were jovially chatting as swells from the north met the manageable but present headwind from the south. All the while I was in charge of our heading as the coastline not visible and I had the GPS Garmin to make sure our way-point was where we were pointed.
I paddled past a few jellyfish for these first ten miles, but otherwise were nature-free. Around mile 10 we came up on Black Point which is where we were to connect on radio with Phil. Sure enough, we got great connection and confirmed good on our end. John, knowing I had company with Hussein, chose to head in here through the surf to meet up with Phil and call it a day. We got confirmation that Phil and him got contact and that in fact John scored a great wave ride in. Then the two OC1s continued our journey into the abyss. Sadly missing some gorgeous coastline of Sea Ranch and Sonoma County.
John coming in at Black Point
Another hour or so and we reached the Salt Point Headlands. Another 20 minutes and the GPS had us to a hard left into Gherstle Cove. And then, out of the fog we surfaced for John and Phil to spot us. After landing and loading our craft, we stood around, eating leftover ribs with BBQ sauce on our faces, and enjoyed the connection of sharing an adventure together. John and Hussein having forged a newfound friendship which they will undoubtedly connect again to score downwinders in the area. And Phil taking in all the paddling stories that I warned him about.
Coming into view of the land crew
Gherstle Cove. Couldn't ask for a prettier finish spot.
Eventually, we said our goodbyes, and I thanked my comrades who helped keep me safe and notch 20 miles of California Coastline. Phil and I drove up the road to make camp, make dinner, make a fire, and make plans for the following day of adventure. It would just be us now.
Day 2 - Bodega to Russian River - Flipping the script
As the previous day had been described as having south winds, it was a surprise to encounter them on day 1. The wind reports all had them coming the next two days. So while we forged ahead into them, I knew the reports were on to something, and had just failed to predict them early enough was all. Day 2 based on reports was going to be south winds and would be a trial run for me to see how the currents and ground swell would affect my speeds as I went into those, but benefited from winds at my back. Similar conditions the third day, the big mackin 28 miler around Pt Reyes were on tap and I was going to use day 2 as a test. I have not yet recovered from last years headwinds on my Lost Coast Journey with Dave Jensen and Paul Jacob. 7 hour paddle becoming a 9 hour paddle, and speeds dropping every mile. I did not want to be solo on this trip under similar circumstances. Day 2 was ‘only’ 12 miles and along very visible land crew access points, so even if things proved hairy and I made a bad call, it was a safe route to miss as I could come in early in various ELZs (Emergency Landing Zones), or simply pull the plug and turn around back to the start after a quick radio with Phil. Day 3 could have none of these options however. So today just felt like a good day to try things out.
I have been known to look at easy workouts and paddles and adventures with a skeptical eye. Too many times it’s the little way that gives me stitches. Not the big bomb. So while this gorgeous paddle from Bodega to Russian River was the pawn of the weeks chess pieces, I knew better than to slack off with preparation and attention to details. Phil’s first day proved great. And this second day was just as awesome. He helped me load up morning of, launch and carry equipment, and listen to me repeat notes on each page of our maps 3 or 4 times without ever calling me on it. When the morning paddle began, we saw a family at the Coleman Cove beach who had bought a crab at local fish restaurant and chose to release it. They named it Serenity. I posed for a picture with them and the crab, shared my journey with them, and knew I was going to benefit from their love of nature via proxy.
Posing with Serenity.
Unlike the previous day were GPS was the sole provider of where the heck I was going, today was clear skies and calm seas. I could see my finish line the last 2/3 of the paddle it was so clear. And so I took in the opportunity to enjoy this amazing coastline. Rivermouths, cliffs, sea-stacks. It was so calm I could actually work on my OC technique and play with speed instead of just being on survival mode. After mile 3 I was enjoying playful little runners provided by the 10-14mph tailwind, and despite the swell and current heading the other way, manage a nice 6.0 mph pace with very little effort, and in spite of my added 20 pounds of gear I always carry on these adventures. The paddle flew by and before I knew it Goat Rock and the Arch Rock was in full view. It was time for some fun!
Arch rock the its name is pretty self-explanatory. But for any fans of the 80s movie Goonies, it is much more! In the final scene, the backdrop of the ocean is filmed and a pirate ship…THE pirate ship sails by a huge arched rock formation a mile offshore. The place has been a checklist location for fans of the move since it came out. Iconic from land. And I was going to paddle up to and through it from the water! John Hadley had done it on SUP so I am certainly not the first, but on an OC? Who knows? 😊 So Phil and I got dialed in on the radios to make sure he had his trusty iPhone ready when I went through, and I was intent on using my GoPro to document paddling through it from my vantage.
Go watch the end of The Goonies and you will get it.
For those that don’t know, anytime you paddle through an arch or pier or structure, there is a thrill of adrenaline. It feels smaller. The waves feel reckless. And the time from start to finish is filled with “what the heck did I decide to do?” Even on a calm day, claustrophobia kicks in and the barnacle covered razor sharp rocks look closer than you expected. The water bounces from side to side and gets turbulent. Sit-on top kayaks, especially those made with durable plastic are perfect for these fun moments. Carbon Fiber fragile canoes with an ama sticking off to the side? Less than ideal. My friends Alan and Michael did a paddle through the keyhole arch of Anacapa Island a few years back. And the feelings described above were felt. So today was not unfamiliar…thrilling and fun.
I arrived at the scene and saw waves kinda rolling through but manageable and seeming to dissipate as they entered the arch. Barnacle laced rocks but what seemed to be a deep enough and wide enough chasm to skate through. So, without waiting for several waves like I should of, I saw what looked like the first lull and just went for it. Of course at the time it felt like a huge wave timed with me and caught me up in its net, sending me with hair flying through the arch, which somehow got much smaller as I entered. But no going back now! Gotta commit to the ride. So I kept pressure on the rudder to hold my line, embraced for possible impact, and shot the arch, hurtling out the other side with a “cheehooo”. Of course in reality it was not nearly that death-defying. And frankly, when you see the pictures from Phil on shore, the hole looks absolutely massive. Big enough to fit a 747. But at least from my GoPro footage, it seemed to replicate my version of the story.
After this fun, I headed north to go past Goat Rock and close off the gap of where I had finished a paddle years prior at Russian river. Then headed back south along the rock to my landing zone. Timed the sets nicely and came in cleanly to Phil, shortly before a couple shore break mackers made me grateful for my once-again lucky timing.
Because this paddle was a short one, Phil and I had the opportunity to play the rest of the day before the big’un the following morning. We packed up the gear, he walked me through what cool things he saw on land of Pliney beers and Fish n Chips in Bodega Bay.
We got to the Dunes campsite, setup his super tent and I rinse and charged my tech gear for next day, and then explored the area, going on a cool 4 mile hike. Weather had precipitation overnight and early morning. So we packed as much gear before bed to limit having wet things to pack in the morning. The site was close enough to the Bodega Harbor that we could hear its fog horn every 10 seconds. At first it was neat. Then it was annoying. Then, as I closed my eyes for the big day ahead, it began to be ominous. Why a fog horn? Are conditions going to be white-out again? Will I see the hazards that surely await me? Sleep turned to anxiety. The daunting 28 miles the following day around Chimney Rock and Pt Reyes Lighthouse and along the huge exposed sand beaches awaited me. Our tent was on a slope. And throughout the night, with the fog-horn always present, I slipped deeper into my thoughts (and my sleeping bag) as I rolled inch by inch down the slope. Until the alarm went off. And day 3 began.
Our pretty campsite at Bodega Dunes
Day 3 - Drakes Beach to Lawson’s Landing (Rounding Point Reyes)
This was the mama-jamma. The biggie. The one I had been dreading and drooling over for years. Pt Reyes sticks waaaay out into the pacific. And this hook if you picture it, has two points on it. The southern point is called Chimney Rock. I would be paddling south to north today due to conditions and wind. (flip map above) Launching from Drake’s Beach to this rock. The next one up is Pt Reyes Lighthouse. Together this stretch is along a huge cliff overlook into the pacific that runs north to south. For 4 miles. Then after reaching the lighthouse, I would turn north east towards Tomales Point, do a button hook right hand turn into Tomales Bay and into the sanctuary of this waterway to a campground a mile south of the turn to the east. All in all about 28 miles.
This was the day I was praying to be the calmest of the week, and was planning to swap the order of things to ensure it fell on a calm day. The stretch from chimney rock to Tomales Point really doesn’t have any safe landing areas. Once I made that turn I was either alongside 6 foot beach break on small days, or giant cliffs. Further north I would maybe find some calm cove or two but it was a 3 mile hike to any road or people and so was cut-off from any radio comms with Phil. So today, I was really wanting to avoid anything funky.
The locals were curious about the canoe on our roof
When we left the campsite at bodega dunes, and the haunting incessant fog-worn of doom, we rolled south to cow pastures and rolling hills. Into towns that had one block of buildings then back into groves of trees and farms. It took an hour to get to the town of Point Reyes Station where we found some Danish and coffee (our breakfast theme) and checked in on each-others’ morale. I remarked to Phil how the population around here was an odd collection of recreating kayakers and gristled fisherman. One taking pictures, the other pulling up a career on the end of a line. I looked in the reflection of the coffee store, and saw a blue beanie on a grizzly salty bearded unshaven man in his late 40s. I was the Gordan’s Fisherman. Not the REI clad adventurer. I chuckled at my appearance and Phil acknowledged that he wouldn’t stop a guy like me to take a tourist picture. We got back in the RAV4 with the check engine light burning a hole in my retina for a third straight day. “Come on Ravy, just get me back home” I said to myself. We drove onto the Point Reyes peninsula, and towards Drake’s Beach. A Huge tourist destination on sunny weekends. But this morning, an empty parking lot facing south and with a closed visitor center. We were at 8am. And pretty much the only humans around.
The surf looked manageable. That was good. But the wind was up. And the fog was too. I could not look into my direction and see much of anything. I knew where I had to paddle, to Chimney Rock but could only see the arching coastline disappear into a fog. Unlike yesterday, we got an earlier start this time which meant the fog and precipitation was present. While it didn’t rain much last night, the air was thick and heavy. And I desperately wanted to see chimney rock before I launched so I could at least get my bearings. I rigged up in the parking lot, staring at the surf the whole time. Item by item, covered by my gaze to make sure placed perfectly. Each layer of clothes, anointment of chaffing cream, lip balm and sunscreen (wishful thinking). Phil understood the mood. Whether I had overly conveyed my concerns to him for this day, or he just innately "got it", he gave me space but was present in a split-second every time I asked for his help with something. At one point, we both looked up in the direction of Chimney Rock and could just make it out. The fog cleared and showed us the sea mass and cliffs to its right and my mood brightened. Of course we also saw white water waves breaking around it, and that brought on different emotions. That said, Phil and I had a flutter of smiles and head nods. A few minutes later when I looked up again, it had disappeared once more. But at least I knew now where I was heading and sort of what it looked like.
Launch at Drake's Beach before the paddle around Point Reyes
Phil and I carried my loaded down canoe to the beach and picked a spot that seemed the most benign to launch into the surf at. Gear check…GPS, radio, second radio (my battery was lower than expected the previous days so John loaned me his so we had 3 now). Watch, GoPro Camera, Personal Locator Beacon, safety whistle, compass, food bag, first aid bag, canoe repair bag, hydration. Jeez, you would think I was packing for my whole family to go to Alaskan wilderness for a week. It was just a paddle. But I choose to have more gear than needed. “If I have it, I won’t need it” is my motto. And the added weight doesn’t bother me since I am not racing. I looked up again, the rock was almost visible. Just flirting with my yearning to see it. We did a radio check, and I launched, with Phil staying on the beach until I was out of site, then on a beeline in the car to the chimney rock overlook to get radio contact when I went by.
The wind this day was as expected. Headwind to start. Then would be ama side (the worst) until the lighthouse. Then in theory, a tailwind. I would be heading south west, then north, then northeast. My speeds into the wind were as expected. Slower but not horrible. Today was only supposed to be 10-16 mph in the morning. And while not ideal, not horrible. And if reports held, they would dissipate throughout the morning to be 8-12 later. As I paddled towards the way-point I had in my device, the rock began to materialize like a star-trek episode with the transporter room beaming in the rock. Seeing it was heartening. And the waves around it were clear to me as well. I had a half hour of paddling towards it to stare at the reefs and rocks and time their passage. I had no desire to go further off course or out to sea than I had to, already feeling exposed and vulnerable. I was hoping to go just outside of the rock and inside of where I was seeing waves break. I continue my approach, and when I arrive I took a moment to assess, and radio check with Phil.
“Cali Paddler to Hint of Salt do you copy?”
“pant pant pant Hint of Salt here. I am running along the trail to get to the overlook. Its further from the car than expected and you made better time than I thought.”
“All good man. I will hold my position until you get a visual on me”
A few minutes went by. Me holding my spot, still in the protection of the outcropping, having not made the turn north yet. Having not gone into that “exposed outer ocean part that while only 30 yards in front of me felt completely remote and vulnerable. I searched the rock, and confirmed that maybe just maybe from my angle, it looked like a chimney.
Phil getting a visual on me at Chimney Rock Overlook
“Hint of Salt to Cali Paddler, I have a visual” the radio chirped loudly. Phil was now directly above about 475 feet above. “I had to go past the fence to a well worn unofficial trail to see you but I can confirm visual. And it doesn’t look like a chimney”
I saw his bright neon orange hat and was grateful for the companionship. We chatted briefly and he confirmed my planned path inside of some breaking wave rocks looked safe. I would proceed to make the turn, and then follow along the land until the lighthouse where he would trek down the 313 steps to get a visual on me again.
I made my way north and navigated the waves and was thrilled to be seeing this direction was looking relatively calm despite the wind blowing left to right and waves hitting giant cliffs and rebounding back at me. I had envisioned this stretch as super spooky and challenging. And while the wind was in fact from my left and leaving my ama vulnerable to lifting and making me unstable, it was very very manageable. The cliffs were towering above me. Steep and full of erosion spots with landslides evident. At sea lever were a couple of coves with sandy beaches. The fog was above me and thick, but my eye line had a clear view for probably 1 mile. The beaches had brown ovals that occasionally shifted. The seal rookery I had read about. Don’t intend to beach anywhere around here. And certainly don’t want to mess with those locals. Up in the distance, I saw what I hoped was the lighthouse. If I could just get there and around the point I would feel so much better.
I continued along. Taking in the moments. I stopped and did some GoPro videos and narrated what we were seeing. I kept my eyes on the prize ahead. The lighthouse. Known to regularly get winds over 40 mph and they close down the stairs from the top when conditions are gnarly. Today however was not that day. I was within a mile of what I thought was the point when I saw a structure halfway up the cliff. Somehow carved and built into the side of the rocky cliffs. Could it be the lighthouse? It was! I turned on the GoPro and did a quick 360 paddle to show off the coastline I had paddle, where I was headed and what I was beside. I radioed Phil. I was at mile 7 now, and making good time. My speed on this second stretch was really good, no longer dealing with the headwind. I did not hear anything from him and tried again.
“Hint of Salt here. It is totally socked in up here. They closed the stairs to let me go down to the lighthouse. Its so foggy I can’t see the water. Just can hear the waves and see grey.”
My view was still below the cloud cover so I gratefully had perfect vision of the waves he was hearing. Nothing sketchy and nothing that concerned me. Amazing what visuals do to calm the senses. Sad that I would not get a picture from above from Phil with the lighthouse in the foreground looking down towards me, or perhaps with the Farallon Islands in the background, I took solace knowing I was getting GoPro footage from below to share. Reaching back to press a button to start recording. Then pressing it again to stop. Hearing beeps each time to confirm the action. (Little did I know I was somehow switched to photo mode, and simply taking stills of my pushing the button. Sigh.)
Sadly my GoPro switched to photo mode but at least I have proof.
Phil and I wrapped up the VHF contact. He would head to South Beach next, a parking lot along the long stretch of sandy beaches. I would round the corner and see what await me. Going around points always gets the imagination ramped up. What would I see? What would conditions be like? Well as I turned the corner the fog almost immediately disappeared. It was like the point had created a giant net to capture all the wind and fog and I was now in the lee. And much to my surprise, there was a fishing boat directly in my path! Not sure who was more surprised to see who. Me faced with civilization, or them with a 20’ canoe appearing out of the fog. But I made a point to paddle past them within earshot and get eye contact. They gave me a nod of acknowledgment, and their surprise dissipated as quick as the fog had. I cracked a joke when I went by, “Do you happen to have any Grey Poupon?” Those fuckers didn’t even crack a smile. One of them said, “huh?” and so I repeated the line from the 1980s commercial where a car pulls up to a fancy limo and asks the question, where the window rolls down and replies, “but of course” and hands a bottle. This time they heard me and were either completely un-amused or too damn young to have ever seen this iconic ad. They went back to their fishing and I was left missing the company of the seals on the beach I had paddled by. At least they laughed at my jokes.
The haunting Farallon Islands in the distance.
The good news however, to offset my bombed human interaction was that my course head was clear and completely beautiful. I spent some time looking around at the point. Had I paddled south as I was originally intending, I would have been staring at this landmark for 3+ hours. I had envisioned that for weeks. But here, with the conditions I had been given, I was suddenly leaving it in my literal wake. I loved how it looked. But was even more thrilled with how everything in front of me was clear and calm. The coastline here does a very strong arc. I can follow the coastline closely and me turning left ever so slightly for the next 18 miles. Or I could make a tangent to land way way up ahead, and my way-points on the GPS of Bird Rock and Tomales Point. Putting me 1-2 miles offshore but create a shorter total paddle distance in the end. With the outer sea calm, and surf reports of 6-8 foot this day on heavy breach break waves, I had no desire to flirt with the Surfline and make the distance longer than it needed to be. So I made the decision to take the direct flight.
About 25 minutes in the conditions started to get a little funky. I looked over my shoulder, and the fog bank that had stopped at the lighthouse seemed to be north of it now. In my direction. I sort of felt like I was trying to outrun it. Every 5 minutes I looked back and saw it was running faster than I was, and getting closer. I had another 30 minutes before my next check-in with Phil at South Beach, so just did my best to net some good speeds and connect with him before the weather caught me.
I lost the race.
Around 10 minutes later the fog, or so that is I thought it would be, had reached me. The temperature dropped and as I looked around I realize this wasn’t fog but a squall, as I could see sheets of precipitation coming down. Usually in the situation the winds get nasty. I have done many winter downwinders where that is the case, so I braced for what could be a funky stretch. However the rain came without much more than a few upticks of wind. And the wind, as had been expected was a tailwind. So my speed was assisted from 6 to 6.5 and 7mph at times. The squall passed me by and the sun came out again. I watched it now in front of me, like the lead dog on a sled team mushing the water in front of me. I was chasing it now, with its departure carving out sunny blue skies for me. Gosh I got lucky on this day with conditions!
When my GPS indicated I was at the rendezvous with Phil I did a radio check. I would just make out glints of glass windshields and some trees at the parking lot he was at. He was unable to find me however. I told him I was extremely further offshore than initially planned, and he elevated the binoculars to try and find me. After a few minutes of scanning he saw me. “Hint of Salt to Cali Paddler, I think I got visual of you and that orange hat. You are way out there and tiny”.
We had one last radio check 45 minutes ahead at North Beach. After that one, I was pretty much on my own. No roads would follow along anymore. Only trails. He would be cutting way inland to go back the mainland off the Point Reyes National Seashore grid to the final landing spot. The next part, I would be on my own. But the conditions were great, and way way way up ahead, I could make out a white mountain of snow. Or as I knew it to really be, bird poop on Bird Rock where I would be almost at the terminating point of this stretch. But as I have learned on these trips, just because you can see something doesn’t mean it is close. And for the next ~2 hours and 13 miles I started at the same landmark.
To my right was gorgeous prairies. Abbotts Lagoon was up there somewhere, but too far to really discern. I picture all the Thule Elk that live alongside this part of the coastline and the 2 times I have explored it decades before. Once with my UC Davis Cross Country Team in 1997 on a run. And again in 2008 after I quit my job and went on a solo 6 week road trip before I became a self-employed graphic designer. I thought then about how the water was rugged and captivating. Such important times in my life then. And now, here I was traveling along this same geographic oddity but on the water, far beyond the confines of trails and land. It was full circle, but completely different at the same time. Being alone here in my thoughts to reflect. Chasing little runners of wind swell. Eating dried apricots on my breaks. And grateful for the time to look sideways at the coastline, instead of fixating on the rock in front of me.
Eventually that rock came. I had been making great time now, and my total trip speed was over 6mph. The initial headwind speeds were swallowed up by hours of speedy paddling. I was so glad to have gone this direction now. The hard parts behind me, I felt very much like I was paddling downhill on today’s journey. I got to Bird Rock and the sounds of the birds was in fact very mesmerizing. Their language didn’t make sense to me but it was calming. My presence was disruptive to their conversation and I did my best to get not interrupt with my presence. That said I was no longer far offshore. I could see the water color was no longer a dark great but a clear blue. I could see down at kelp and rocks. All around me was a new environment. I could make out the tip of the land mass up ahead now. Tomales Point.
The trail I had hiked before terminates at the apex of Tomales Point. A peninsula of land where the ocean was to the west. Tomales Bay to the right. And to the north 6 mile ahead was Bodega Head. A stretch I paddled with John years before. The trail comes right up to the end and the ocean wraps around the point. I saw hikers on the land at the finish spot of their hike. Many sitting down taking breaks to enjoy their efforts. Some with their legs angling off ledges with the water and some rocks below. I was pretty close to them at this point, and many of them saw me and waved. I secretly wished my former self was up there to see me now. It would have been such a cool conversation to celebrate what each of us was enjoying in different ways but seeing the same views. Me on land feeling like I was on the edge of a precipice back then. Career-wise and land-wise. Yearning to get as close to the edge as I could. And now, me rounding that same precipice. Paddling beyond where I was able to go before. Beyond where any of those current hikers could reach. I felt very grateful to be where I was. And only because of my previous view, did I really embrace my current one.
Approaching Tomales Point.
As I finished rounding the point I found myself in the realm of breaking waves. John had told me that this “spot really goes off” and while it was summer and a calm day, there was still waves. And I was unfamiliar with all of the spots that break. I watched as I slowly crept around and did my best to pick a course that wouldn’t leave me breaking my canoe on the rocks with the hikers capturing it on video. That said, I found a spot in between two breaking waves to pass through. Or so I thought! Sure enough the two waves were just the beginning of the breaking waves and they met in the middle by the time I got to it. I found myself suddenly on the wave and completely wishing I wasn’t. I did my best to paddle hard and outrun the wave but was too fast and it caught me. I somehow manage to hold my line and not pearl (nose-dive) in the now shallow and very rocky section of the ocean I was in. Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped and I was in deep water again. The wave disappearing and my vibe going from butt-clinching to, “I had that the whole time” confidence. I tried to paddle nonchalantly so any spectators would think I chose to do exactly what I had done. Like some local surfer taking off deep at some secret wave. I can promise you now however, I got lucky.
Tomales Point
Once in the bay, I was two miles from the finish. The water was so so clear. I hugged the cliffs of Tomales Point on the right and looked at all these little beaches and coves full of untouched sand. I took my GoPro off the canoe and held it underwater to capture the calm and serene seaweed flowing like hair beneath me as I skated over it. Much like a big anticipated summit of a mountain, I was now in the decent phase. Not wanting to rush my departure from the top, instead wishing I could stay here longer. Eventually though, I headed towards the south. And crossed over to the east side of the bay. The south wind now in my face. My speeds slowing as this headwind made me realize my speeds the last several hours were not because I was strong or fast, but totally wind-aided. I passed some kids fishing on the beach. Some boaters doing donuts to impress their passengers. And saw Phil on the beach up ahead lined up where I was to safely come in. “Hint of Salt here to Cali Paddler” my radio chirped. “I got a visual”.
I had rounded Point Reyes.
Day 3 – the night that followed.
While the trip was not done, and the following day I had the most conditions I would encounter for the week, in terms of wind, (reports were predicting 15-24mph), there was something of a huge exhale after rounding the point and clicking off the longest of the trip, most remote, most extreme surf etc etc blah blah blah. I never go into a paddle thinking it will be easy but I gotta tell you, Phil and I both were ready to let loose a bit after this one. We packed up the gear at Lawson’s landing, and a friend of John’s saw the outrigger on the roof and talked to us about paddling for a bit. It was about 3 in the afternoon and I had been on the water for 5 hours but I was feeling frisky and jovial. I took my time breaking down and rinsing the items. Soaking in the accomplishment. I had scored such ideal conditions for the majority of it. Gotten so fortunate with our timing. It was far from easy, but just to put it simply, it could have been so much harder. And I was so grateful for what it was. As we started the drive to our accommodations that night, back to Point Reyes national seashore to the Limantour Lodge, we stopped a few times to take pictures of huge boulder formations. Cool decorations of collected items on Dillon Beach in front yards. Stopped in the down of Point Reyes Station and found a surf shop. And wouldn’t you know it, it was owned by a paddler with the Tamalpais Outrigger Canoe Club. And they had two paddle friends walk up while we were there to chat with as well. Phil had learned now that paddling dominates all paddler conversations. But at the surf shop we also talked a little surfing. We cruised to a deli, grabbed a delicious sandwich, headed to the market to get some Pt Reyes Blue Cheese which is one of my favs, and then headed to the lodge.
Living the good life at Limantour Lodge
Don’t let the Limantour Lodge name fool you. It used to be a youth hostel back when I stayed there in 1997 as a UC Davis Cross Country runner. And while its now renamed and fancier and pricier, it is still pretty much a hostel. I took a hot shower when we got there and it was glorious. Rinsing off the salt and dust and road weariness from the hour long drive. We then settled into some chairs outside with perhaps the greatest (sarcasm) celebratory meal and beer you have ever seen. Phil cracked open a 40oz can of Mickey’s. I went with a similar sized can of Steel Reserve. We busted out the fancy and delicious Blue Cheese, and paired with Hint of Salt Wheat Thins. Needless to say, the beers were making sorta funny jokes funny. And actually funny jokes fricken hilarious. We sat in adorondack chairs, looking into the beautiful mountains, sipping malt liquor, and talking about how awesome the day and accomplishment was. The next morning, my head was killing me.
Day 4 – Limantour to Bolinas
Today was gonna be a blast. Even though the wind was going to be cranking by early afternoon, it was lined up PERFECTLY for where I was heading. And it was all in the lee of Point Reyes headland, almost like a kiddy pool compared to the other side and all that energy. Or so I thought. In actuality, and I know better than discount any coastline at this point, I was still in NorCal and the wildlife up here was next level. I would have zero radio contact with Phil today. He would have to head inland to highway 1 and head straight to the small hippy town of Bolinas where I’d finish. The coastline was only accessible by hiking trails 10-20 miles from any paved roads. I would be seeing gorgeous coastline, and the key word was seeing. Right from the start, with the wind being up, I was able to see 10 miles in every direction. Chimney Rock to the north today was visible despite me being further from it. But I could tell by the ocean texture that it was waaaaay more ruckous out there than I had to deal with. Did I mention how lucky I was the previous day with conditions?
Carrying canoe and gear to Limantour Beach
Today we went to a couple parking lots to find the best launching conditions. Remember, even a 3 foot shore-break wave can be debilitating. And the hike form the lots to the beach here was pretty far. About a 8 minute walk. We settled on one and geared up and hoofed the canoe in pieces to the sand. The trail was too tight with growth to carry the canoe rigged. There were 3 fisherman here. Each about 50 yards from each other. Lines in the water. Too far to talk to one another. And it seemed an odd way for friends to hang out if they were in fact together. That said, not wanting to get in tangled in their lines or their personal space, I chose 50 yards to the north of them and in a nice smaller wave spot. I managed to launch again easily through the surf by taking my time to time the waves and with Phil helping me see the sets as they came in. He knows this side of things as well as anybody, having been my best surf buddy for 20 plus years. And he undoubtedly helped me have clean entries and exists all week long. Once past the surf, and a quick radio check, I paddled north and west for about a mile or so. I wanted to make sure I was even with where I start the day prior to make sure I didn’t leave a gap in my California map. Plus I was lining up the already evident wind I would be catapulting into when I made my turn. One last radio check. And good bye until the finish. Then I took a few strokes towards the south where I was going to having coastline on my left, a few offshore sea stacks, cove beaches, cliffs and waterfalls. And 4 hours of downwind surfing on my canoe that would rival anything I have had in probably a year or so. Man was I off to a good start. My speeds the last few days were 6-6.3mph. Today I was easily in the 7s right from the start with more wind expected to build each hour.
I spent this time working on my surf technique. Seeing waves not just in front of me to lock into, but beyond. Elevating my gaze. I experimented with different lines and how the results favored some more than others. Taking notes as to what my canoe liked, and what allowed me to paddle the least and just cruise. The coastline showed some sadly barren areas in the first area where the Woodward Fire in 2020 burned almost 5000 acres. Several years ago my Santa Cruz Paddle with friend Scott had to creatively change routes and directions due to a fire in that beautiful coastline. This view now was just another reminder of how fragile our state is with the threat of wildfires. And while I was grateful I was not encountering plan adjustments on this trip, I was aware of how other parts of the state were likely battling blazes. In the meantime though, I was not battling anything. I was flying!
Speeds in the 7 and 8mph now. Already notched 1/3 of the days 20 miles and could in the distance ahead start to see the civilization of San Francisco city. Well beyond where I would be stopping for the day. I was so focused now on the waves and occasionally on the coastline, that I was not paying attention much around me. So it was by pure luck, that I decided at this moment to take my GoPro off and flip it to show the view behind me as I was surfing that a humpback whale surfaced a few dozen feet in front of me. And so for the next few minutes, I had the camera on for the narration of pure fear and respect and adrenaline as I was suddenly in the middle of probably 10 whales in a half mile radius of me. Of course the camera resolution is not high, and was set to wide angle so things look small and far away. And I was rarely pointing it in the right direction. But the experience from my vantage was spectacular.
One whale about 3 or 4 times was feeding nearest to me and would surface and his blowhole would spray up in the air so close I could smell the exhale. It smelled like the ocean and fish. When he would surface I would think he was already big, then when I thought I would see the tail to finish his body length, his or her dorsal fin would show. And I would realize I had only seen half of this huge humpback whale and then treated to the remainder. So big! So close. Birds were everywhere now. Indicating to me a clue as to where the whales tend to be. Whales. Fish. Seals. Birds. They all seem to hang out together. Off to my right out to sea I heard the sounds of breaching whales and would look just in time to see the splash of them as they smacked onto the surface of the water. I was still getting blown by the wind but had stopped paddling because the path directly in front of me was occupied. And if a whale so much as sneezes it could flip me. Much less having one land on me and sending me to Davey Jones’ locker at the bottom of the Pt Reyes Sea. Eventually I put the camera away and started to plot how I was going to try and proceed, and what path I could take. Around this time to my right where I had seen 5 or 6 whales dancing up and out of the water I saw a behavior that blew my mind. I giant whale had dove headfirst into the water but their tail was up in the sky and being held there like a mast on a ship. Maybe it was balancing while it ate. But for 5 seconds or so the tail just ... waved to me. Then it flopped into the water and made a loud thud. I saw it do this a second time about a minute later. Only this time while it was in the air I saw a very big animal jumping out of the water at a super high speed. Almost like it was getting chased and trying the hell out of Dodge. A seal? A shark? A dolphin? Whatever it was being chased by I don’t know what, but it made me think the whale behavior I was seeing was even more intentional. Whatever was going on over there, I suddenly went from curious to wanting to avoid. And so I took the cue and started my exit from Whale-ville.
This humpback whale was feasting for a good 10 minutes while I watched in awe.
At this point I realized that I had accidentally stopped and saved my watch workout for the first part of the paddle. And a new one needed to be started. Bummer to have the paddle data be broken into two blocks. But it served as a good reminder of the reasons why I stopped my watch, as I had almost run into the path of whales. Tap-Tap on the watch. Tap-Tap-Tap went my paddle, and I was immediately surfing again. 8mph for the next few minutes, and scanning not just for waves, but for spouts and bird activity to ensure I didn’t collide with anything.
About 30 minutes later I saw on the coastline a beautiful looking waterfall. (Turns out it was called Alamere Falls). Imagine how cool that is. To see water felling into the sea. And here I was watching it from the water it was entering. I marveled at how the energy traveled. Nature was on full-display again for me. The coastline rough and green up top, rocky and sandy below. Untouched. Dense vegetation. The coastline stuck out a bit here and I was not longer out in the outer ocean but close enough to dance around rocks and seaweed again. The surf was as raucous as ever with the wind at its strongest. I could see up ahead my course was going to end in the next hour or so, and the wind would be pushing me into shore if I don’t surf right and tack against it. My speeds were in the 9s regularly now. And while my line was not exactly lined up, I was playing with fast speeds. 9.4. 9.6. 9.9. Could I score over 10? Let’s muscle a little bit on this next one and YES! There it is 10.1. 10.4. At my top speed I grabbed a 10.9mph. The waves were exhilarating. My gear bag of food and water untouched as I didn’t want to stop and eat and miss any of these fun waves.
I had one last stretch of fun in front of me, then my last really tough challenge of the trip would come. Duxbury Reef.
The start of Duxbury Reef. It continues on for over half a mile.
This large exposed shale reef extends a full 950 meters of the main beach, and runs south east in a long rocky outcropping that makes my route extend way way way beyond where I would turn to get to Bolinas. It also is visible, or not based on the tide. So the lure to try and cut early can be tempting as one ‘thinks’ they can make it through, or have come to its end. Just like the rest of the geography in this region, Duxbury Reef makes one scratch their head in wonderment. And I was finishing my run and ‘thought’ I had seen it from a ways back. And its termination. HA! No that was just the rocks around the headlands. Equal to all the other points I had rounded which took me further down than I expected to have to go. As I started to round those however I saw white water stretching further south. WAAAY further south. Oh, so THAT is the reef. Did I mention it stretched over a half mile? The wind now was pushing me onshore instead of straight down the coast due to me having kicked inland that last few miles. I was now getting pushed onto the reef by side waves. Having to tack back out away from the reef to ensure I did not get pushed into the rocks covered in kelp and barnacles. But not too far out and overshoot. This delicate dance was made a little more complicated by the exorbitant amount of kelp I had to navigate through. At one point I had to back-paddle to find a better path which was comical at best. The fact that I had on my huge surf rudder, which was appreciated for the previous parts of the run was not proving to make things even more challenging.
Eventually I tracked the final 10 minutes south and rounded what I thought was the end of the reef. I had the last little bits of challenge for my day, to pay for all the nature and surf I enjoyed earlier. I had to trek all the way to Bolinas Beach with the 30mph wind howling and coming from my ama side. Suddenly the 4 days of mileage piled up into my carcass of a body as the canoe kept wanting to flip. Fortunately the reef was creating a nice barrier of the surf so while the wind was annoying, the water and waves were much more manageable than if I had tried this direction outside the point. So I made the last grit requiring stretch and got my bearings of the beach. Phil radio’d in, always a voice I enjoyed hearing but especially today having been radio dark for 3 hours. He said a friend of John’s Marion who we had connected with on the phone to get some local knowledge on beaching spots, but never met was able to see me from her house up on a cliff. Thrilled to be in the view of awaiting friends was great and I made the final crossing. As I got closer to land the wind subsided in the lee of the big cliffs I had rounded. Eventually I saw a surfer on a little wave and decided to catch one myself. Nothing too crazy but fun none-the-less to get a little last minute free energy. Phil was on the beach a few hundred yards away, beach-goers laying on towels and playing with their dogs. I got inside the surf line and took off my leash, and then a wave came and almost huli’d me. I saved it and hoped that no one on the beach saw how close I had just come to going for my first swim of the trip in the last 10 seconds.
I beached. And the journey from Gualala to Bolinas was complete!
Grateful for such an awesome wingman, Phil "Hint of Salt" Starkovich.
Addendum and Day 5 Bonus Adventure – San Simeon to Piedras Blancas
Decided to turn back at sketchy rocks and sketchy Elephant Seal Rookery.
Phil and I packed the gear one last time to wrap up the final adventure day and scored some good sandwiches with Marion at local Bolinas shop, and then some ice cream in Stinson Beach. We took the coast route down to San Francisco and marveled at the steep cliffs and pumping ocean and wind. I dropped off my formidable wingman at the SF airport and made my decision that instead of driving home that afternoon down the i5 valley, I would head down the 101 and make my way to San Simeon. A small town north of Morro Bay where I had some unfinished business to take care of. Several years ago in 2019, my buddy Siam and I tackled the Big Sur coastline. I paddled from Monterey to Morro Bay. And it was a great adventure (CP Explorations - Monterey to Morro Bay | Cali Paddler). However on one day, we had to abort the route due to increasingly strong headwinds and slowing speeds. Unable to make it to the planned finish for the day. This left a gap in my map, and it has been gnawing at me all this time. Knowing that it needed to be completed before I could say I did the whole coastline. So with my car pointed south, I made my way to notch this little stretch.
I rolled into San Simeon around 9pm that night. Weary from the paddling and long drive (who knew that the bay area had traffic at 5pm on a weeknight?). My plan was simple: Paddle from the protected beach of San Simeon north to Piedras Blancas, turn back at the lighthouse and finish where I started. The only difference being, I was without land crew this time around. But with 4 days of routine locked in, I was not too worried. That said, I did reach out to contacts at Pale Kai Outrigger in case anyone wanted to join, but there were no takers. I did chat with one guy who gave me the scoop of that area, and he warned of some ripping conditions I would be facing later in the morning. Not wanting any more excited at this point, I intended to get on and off the water for 10 miles before the wind really kicked.
I woke up that morning, at the hotel with an ocean view and felt cheated. Why? Because despite being 100feet from the water I couldn’t see it. The fog was so socked in it practically stifled the sounds as much as the sights. I got some breakfast and coffee in me, drove the course for the day so try and get some semblance of comfort. And then arrived at San Simeon. I sent out a float plan to 4 people of my agenda, route, timing, and what I was wearing. Left a note with personal info on my dash. And set off.
The setting for this day’s paddle was about as eerie as any I have paddled. Known for elephant seals and sharks. Tons of rocks and bull kelp forests to get stuck in. Visibility 50 feet, so I had to stay super close to shore, but that meant flirting with the edge of the surf line and the rocks.
I was paddling through what felt like a graveyard. And I was paddling by braille. My GPS was having a hard time getting a signal due to the fog. I felt very alone.
I pulled the plug and turned around when I started to hear the fighting of elephant seals, and waves breaking in all upcoming directions. Knowing the wind would be picking up the longer I was out there. Two sea otters I saw on a patch of kelp shook their tiny heads at me. But enjoyed 9 miles of the abyss before I did. I didn’t have the visual of the lighthouse I wanted. But based on my gps watch, it was in front of me about half a mile. Just beyond the elephant seal rookery where earlier that morning I had stopped at on land to inspect.
The return paddle was probably the part most noteworthy however that I wanted to share. Two months prior to this trip, my step-father Tom passed away. One of the places he shared with me and my mom on some family trips was a place he absolutely loved, Monterey and Pacific Grove. Any time I see Monterey Pine Trees, I think of that place, and the fun memories of there, as they are native to that area. In fact, as I researched later and found out, this tree that always brought nice memories of Tom and Monterey was only natively found in 3 places in the world. Monterey. Santa Cruz. And in the Cambria/San Simeon area. Going back to my paddle now. I am immersed in a fog that has basically rendered my GPS tracker useless as it couldn’t get a satellite signal. I had laid visual breadcrumbs along the paddle north, “look for a tall rock with barnacles. That is 2 miles from the start/finish.” “Look for the little cove beach with a river outlet. That is 1.2 miles from the start/finish.” And so on. However, paddling back, even though I could feel the wind building on my back, the landmarks were hard to find in the fog. So was the coastline for that matter. If I went too far in, waves were breaking. Too far out, and I risked going off course a bit.
The beacon that kept helping me though, up ahead, was a dark patch at the headlands of the San Simeon point where I would theoretically turn east and head to the protected beach I launched from. The dark patch was the only land that really had enough contrast to stand out in the fog, and was high enough to pierce the low laying cloud cover. The dark patch that continued on my path was a guide to keep me on the right path. Giving me comfort that I knew where land was, and grounding me to its proximity. As I rounded the headlands I had gotten close enough to see with a lifting of the fog, a dark grove of tall trees. Mixed in with Eucalyptus and Cypress...Monterey Pines.
Coming back in around the San Simeon Headlands
(This Epic Adventure for a Cause is dedicated to "Coach" Ralph Thomas Parry. July 17, 1944 – May 16, 2025. A Master Planner. Please consider supporting The Alzheimer’s Foundation of America and the great work they do.)
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Thank you to John Hadley, Hussein Sayre, Point Reyes Adventure Company, Marion of Bolinas, Point Reyes Surf Company, Jim Baumann, Paul Jacob and Dave Jenson for all your support and enthusiasm. And of course my lovely wife and family for letting me leave the house to explore! www.CoastalPaddleProducts.com and www.WestCoastPaddleSports.com for all the gear support!
Team Writer Clarke Graves - If there is water, he will paddle it (regardless of craft). Clarke is a surfer turned paddler who grew up in San Diego but has traveled every corner of California enjoying its beauty and appeal. He has had the privilege of racing SUP, OC6, OC2, OC1, Prone, Dragon-boat and surf-ski.
One of Clarke's goals is to paddle as much shoreline in California as he can, with as many paddling friends who are willing to join him. If you have an idea for Clarke to write about or any questions, send it our way and we will pass it along!
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