
Hooking up off Cosmoledo. (Photo: Talweg Creative/Yeti Coolers)
Ditch the paperback and lounge chair for one of these off-the-beaten-path beach adventures, from surfing rowdy East Coast breakers to fishing among tiny African islands.
At the Inn at Newport Ranch, the ranch part is meant literally: the new luxury property is part of a 2,000-acre working cattle operation, one that just happens to abut 50-foot cliffs plunging into the Pacific near Mendocino.
Since this is cowboy country, start the day off with a hearty western omelet, then run, mountain-bike, or ride horseback on 30 miles of trails built from a network of old logging roads. Return for an evening soak in the roof-top hot tub as the sun dips into the ocean, then enjoy the ranch’s homegrown vegetables and local Dungeness crab for dinner. There’s an inn with three guest rooms, but you should splurge on the entire Sea Drum House, with four bedrooms and a private deck overlooking the sea. From $300.
Good beachfront dives offer a magic combination of cheap, strong drinks, access to water, and a crowd that transcends demographic categorization. So even if the Red Dock is on Saugatuck Harbor, where the Kalamazoo River enters Lake Michigan amid towering dunes, we say it qualifies.
The yellow shack looks like it could collapse at any second, a condition made worse by the weight of the signs, stickers, and hippie detritus covering every available surface. The patrons are a mix of Chicagoans, kayakers, and the occasional Birkenstock-wearing poet, all ordering the same high-octane rum punch and singing along to whatever band is playing that night. In short, it’s like somebody extracted the best parts of Key West—the mellow vibe, the come-as-you-are attitude—except you’re wasting away on Lake Michigan. So expect more plaid.
In British Columbia, surfers head to Tofino, skiers drive up to Whistler, and kiteboarders go to Squamish. The town’s name comes from the First Nations word for “mother of the wind,” and nowhere is that more apparent than the Spit. This narrow piece of land juts into the salty water where the Squamish River enters Howe Sound and creates a natural launchpad for wind sports, blasted by strong thermals from downvalley.
It regularly draws hundreds of kiteboarders and windsurfers, their colorful rigs racing through the shadow of Stawamus Chief, the iconic granite dome towering 2,000 feet above the water. Squamish Kiteboarding School will get you going with lessons from $250. They’ll supply all the gear you need, including a wetsuit—this isn’t the Caribbean.
Drive Highway 12 from top to bottom—from Kitty Hawk to Ocracoke—and you can surf overhead barrels, dive for shipwrecks, explore deserted islands, and wander the East Coast’s most pristine beaches. Here’s how to do it right.
To the landlocked, surfing Northern California brings to mind big, cold waves and surly locals. But it’s an ideal destination for beginners. The important thing is to stop making excuses and paddle out.
When my boyfriend finally agreed to teach me to surf on a trip to Santa Cruz, everyone we knew warned us that it was a bad idea. An uncannily timed post on the surf website Beach Grit cautioned against schooling one’s significant other. (Headline: “The Dumb Things Surfers Do.”) But Matt was a patient instructor, and when he pushed me onto my first tiny wave, I rode it all the way to the beach. A light rain was falling, a nice Australian woman cheered me on from the lineup, and a rainbow arced over the set.
Book a room at the oceanfront Dream Inn (from $225), fuel up with a sour beer at the Sante Adairius brewery in nearby Capitola, and head out into the sea. Cowell’s offers lessons ($90) at the beginner-friendly break of the same name, but don’t be afraid to play around on your own. Rent a wetsuit and a board at Cowell’s (or invest in an inexpensive foam board like Costco’s $100 Wavestorm) to get started—until the day comes when you graduate to a shortboard, head into bigger waves, and stare down out-of-town kooks like me.
The view from the air makes it clear that the Seychelles, an island nation of about 90,000 located 800 miles off the east coast of Africa, are less an archipelago than a sparse collection of outcroppings spanning an area practically the size of the American Midwest.
The outer atoll of Cosmoledo—a coral reef that formed on top of a collapsed, seven-mile-wide volcano—has lately become the world’s most coveted spot to fly-fish for giant trevally. A ravenous three-foot-long gangster of a fish, the GT lives in deep water but provides the ultimate sight-casting target when it cruises knee-deep flats on the changing tides hunting for bonefish and other prey. Even the reef’s tiger and lemon sharks won’t mess with it.
Cosmoledo is an untouched wilderness—the same as it was when it emerged from the sea. But development is imminent. The atoll will likely see construction of a small lodge within a few years, making it more accessible and a little less wild. For now anglers pay nearly $15,000 per person for a week to live aboard the Maya’s Dugong, a 150-foot retrofitted research vessel that anchors off Cosmoledo and sends its outboard skiffs into the flats and the jade-colored lagoon. The season runs from about November until April, with no more than a dozen clients booked per week.