Heading for 'Frisco Bay...
Philosophically, "No plans and no worries" has limited value. Here we are in San Francisco International Airport with our bags half-packed, still speaking Greek and stinking of feta, forty-eight hours after sailing in Vaselike! Time and time again, love or hate it, we never seem able to follow plans.

I've always enjoyed America. As an Englishman there are certain benefits, like persuading car hire companies to deliver the best deal on earth - a brand new turbo, giant, glossy van for the price or a Honda Civic - at four in the morning Athens time. So with no plans, no worries and no sleep, we head into 'Frisco Bay at the wheel of our new home and transport for the next week.

Highway 101
This is the continentally lengthy coast road stretching from Canada to Mexico. As Tom Waits said, "You just can't miss it..." The choice of heading south from San Francisco to Baja was so tempting we could almost taste the chillies and guacamole on our gringo breath. But instead we headed north, to Shawna's home in Vancouver, Canada, via a week of windsurfing along the exceptional coastline of Oregon...

Having travelled this road many times in her youth, Shawna revealed to me part of America uncharacteristic of Hollywood or Batch: no cities, ganged-ho or silicon implants, but climbing cliffs and hairpin headlands, through redwood and pine forests, surfing the distinct beaches of California and Oregon's Highway 101.

California
Although San Francisco Bay is world famous for strong winds, we decided to get our fix with 'virtual' windsurfing, watching from above as we escaped the city across Golden Gate Bridge. Armed with only two wave boards and two rigs between us (4.7 and 5.7m), we were searching for the conditions seen in the 'Northbound' video compiled by those far-out American wave sailors.

Unfortunately, the only place we could remember from the video was Pistol River, and we couldn't find it on the map of California. So we examined every beach and headland for a cross-shore sailing spot, but to no avail. Everywhere was dead onshore and the only waves we found were pointed out by a humorous local surfer who handed us a magnifying glass! If we'd used that to examine our philosophy of no plans and no worries, we'd probably have spotted the hairline fractures rapidly cracking into huge crevices!

The scenery is truly epic though. The wild west coast quickly changes from cactus California to the green pines of the North. As I drove, I became mesmerised by the topographic tapestry, until Shawna pointed out that my prolonged gazes towards the ocean, searching for wind and surf, and my waffling on about "the wonderful greens and blues" was giving her a massive injection of class 'A' adrenaline as the car swerved from a sheer cliff drop on one side to a sheer cliff wall on the other. So, I finally shut my scenic mouth, but not without mentioning California's highlight, the Redwood forests of Smith River. If you have just come from Europe, forests of this size are hard to imagine. You are dwarfed by 300ft trees wide enough to build houses in or drive your car through, and it's well worth turning off the highway to experience.

Size does matter
The size of America, its latitude, longitude and attitude, its air-cooled cities, its wildernesses, hamburgers (and hamburger eating people) and its meals and wheels are giant. Bigger isbetter in America. Campervans fifty-feet long, towing a pick-up truck twenty-feet long, carrying a four-wheel-drive buggy, boat and satellite system (to pick up one of fifty different TV shows to watch from luxury sofas or jacuzzis), seems to be the average retirement showcase for couples travelling the United States. There are thousands of these vans, each one big enough to solve the homeless problem! Americans have got the room and sense of adventure for it, which is why American vehicles are twice the length of those in Britain (so beware overtaking). Consumerism is all consuming, but it's the wilderness and empty coastline that contrasted most strikingly with Europe.

American pie
Menus are a trick in America, because however concise the description, there's a follow-up barrage of rapid fire questions shot from the smiling waitress in fast drooling pulp fiction style. "Jahwohn-raahch-fraahch-taahlyon-thouseahnalaahn-gaahllc-ormayonaahs?" "??!" Even eggs aren't just fried, they're fried sunny-side up, over-easy, easy-over, Swiss Family Robinson or close-shaven. We try drive-ins but they're even harder to understand because you get the same questions but this time through a distorted loudspeaker! Shawna takes over as her Canadian accent is one step closer and she knows the difference between blueberries and huckleberries. It's no real problem though - the language barrier is quickly overcome and the American pie thus discovered is superb, with not only the largest portions on earth but a diversity of choice wider than the waitress's smile. Especially good are salads - try the Caesar with Cajun chicken.

Oregon
Twenty-miles into Oregon a signpost shoots past reading 'Pistol River'. With the reactions of a cat under fire the brakes screech and we swerve into an empty car park on a beach alongside none other than Pistol River itself. As the smell of a thousand miles of burning rubber settles, a Zen of no worries comforts our indecision to make a plan.

It's windy, sunny and there are waves, but it's cross-onshore. With a whole day to kill and a perfectionist's attitude to wave hunting, otherwise known as entertaining too many perspectives to make a decision, we continue in search of that little bit more. Sure enough two klicks down the road the hard shoulder is packed with the familiar sight of a nomadic windsurfing community. Carelessly colourful vans and rigs are guarded by windsurfers who face out to sea like nervous sentries on duty, scanning the horizon for invaders from Neptune. If it's wind and waves they're after they needn't look any further than right under their noses, as 4.5m weather tears the spray off ranks of marching waves. Home at last!

Windsurfing
This is 'The Rock' at Pistol River, a brilliant wave sailing location with incredibly consistent cross/cross-onshore winds that can regularly blow 4.0m weather in the height of summer. Two minutes up the road is Cape Sebastian, even better for riding in a big swell as the wind is cross-offshore, but gusty, or great in a small swell for learning to wave sail.

The scenery is outstanding, the waves can be powerful and challenging, and the water temperature is... freezing! Colder than an English winter! But that's how the wind works: an icy sea creates a morning fog which is sucked south as the hot air rises in California. This giant sea breeze affects the whole Oregon coast, and as we travelled north we came across more and more great wave sailing spots, each serving pockets of windsurfing communities and creating great afternoon sessions throughout the summer.

Better even than the imagination expected (without mentioning the outstanding Columbia River Gorge), the Oregon coastline has some superb wave and slalom sailing spots with no more than a great white shark or a speeding fine to worry about. Conditions generally compared to the UK's south coast, like Witterings or Kimmeridge, but so long as it's hot and sunny in California, you can expect these conditions every day! We were unlucky with the waves, which in summer are normally waist to head high and occasionally logo high. The swell usually comes from the south, so Pistol River often has the biggest waves. There is some good surfing around too, but you'll need hoods, gloves and booties. Most locals have hoods built into their suits because the water's so cold!

The locals
Americans have a bad image in Europe, especially in England. Is it because of their loud bellowing voices, which stand out like jet-skis on a mellow day? Or is it the sickly heroic images portrayed by Hollywood? Or is it that rad, bad, killer dude attitude from Hawaii? I don't know, but none of these characteristics are reason enough to judge all 250 million of them, especially those from northern California or Oregon. All of the people we met were genuinely kind and open minded (you've got to be when you meet us!), and although not reserved like the English, these very real people were humble, honest folk who really did wish us a nice day.

Oregon has the same west coast appeal that Cornwall or West Wales has in Britain. Wooden houses more sculpted than built, by artists not architects, blend into the cliffs and forests with tempting seclusion. This is a land for the creative.

Where to sail?
The best spot we sailed at was South Jetty, Florence. Great for both riding and jumping on the sand bar, or excellent for riding right beside the jetty. Camping overnight was no problem, although a small fee was payable for parking.

Pistol River's two spots were the most consistent for conditions and the most popular. Beware of the rips though; as a newcomer anywhere, ask a local for some advice. A free secret camping spot at The Bluff has some of the best sunset views on the coast - ask a local for more detailed directions.

Newport's conditions are virtually identical to Florence, but with less sailors. Face Rock can be really good too - park opposite the golf course hotel and cut down the beach track. Lincoln City also gets good at Roads End, and Manzanita further up north could very well be Oregon's best kept secret...

Slalom sailing at all these spots has some classic scenery for cruising. For the intermediate or beginner, Floras Lake is perfect. Right on the beach fifteen miles south of Bandon the lake is rarely too deep to stand, and a steady wind right off the ocean fuels the sails of hundreds of enthusiastic windsurfers, most of whom are learning to gybe. The water's not too cold for a shorty and is as flat as a speed course, making it one of the best improver's places on earth. Floras Lake is fully equipped with a school, modern rental kit and a campsite. Rock Dock, a few hundred metres upstream in Florence River, was recommended to us as another good intermediate spot as the wind blows against the current. It looked okay but nobody was out.

Epilogue
Although daytime temperatures tempted us into shorts, evenings, mornings and the winds were really cold. The sea was literally the coldest we've ever sailed in, but the summer winds in Oregon are as consistent as anywhere on the planet, especially at Pistol River and the Gorge.

It might not be the most exotic summer holiday you take, but if you can afford the flights or car hire (which starts at £300 per week), the trip comes highly recommended from Guy's travelling experiences, especially if you include a visit to Columbia River Gorge. Here you can sail in a shorty in probably the world's most surreal conditions.