Gusts versus gusto

THE small cabin cruiser pitches and rolls in 10-foot seas as I steel my stomach for the rest of the ride. It’s been more than two hours since we left San Francisco Bay and followed the coastline north. The fog, the swirling surf and the whitish escarpment of Point Reyes merge into a gray murk. Breakers and troughs had battered the boat as it worked through a snarl of sand bars and currents called the Potato Patch. Out here great white sharks gobble seal pups like Tootsie Rolls, and migrating humpbacks briefly puncture the sea’s surface.

About 100 yards away on a wide and desolate stretch of sand called South Beach, three kiteboarders hatch a mad Pacific migration scheme of their own: a route from Point Reyes, around the Farallon Islands and under the Golden Gate Bridge. The journey would run 60 miles or so, depending on zigs and zags -- and winds, fog, swells and sharks that circle the Farallons -- along the way.

The boat’s radio crackles. The kiters report incoming waves twice their height and unfavorable winds for launching. The trio needs power to get through the surf zone, and crazily shifting breezes don’t cut it.

Within the hour another call comes in: It’s a go. The three judge the winds to be strong enough to get through the shore break. They put on wetsuits, harnesses, life vests, supplies and emergency gear, and pump up the inflatable frames of their kites.

The kites sail into the air, the thrust giving a healthy tug on the harnesses. If the pull isn’t firm, kiters change to a different-sized kite, a critical decision that can’t be made en route. Too small? It dies in slack winds. Too big? It’s like being tethered to a comet.

Waves hide the kiters; they look like three colored blobs bouncing high above the horizon.

“Oh! Gibby’s down!” a voice calls out on the radio.

Lacking sufficient wind power, Steve Gibson, the motivational leader of the group, has crashed his kite into the heavy surf. He gets aloft again briefly, crashes a second time and pulls his kite back onto the beach -- not the kind of energy you want to waste on a mulligan. Buddies Chip Wasson and Jeff Kafka retreat as well.

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The bright idea

The sea was supposed to be calm, the winds steady, the goal attainable, if experience was any guide for these three whose lives -- and livelihoods -- are defined by the sport. One says kiteboarding saved his marriage, one didn’t tell his wife where he was going today and the third has a wife and two children waiting at home.

“Where’s Daddy?” the kids might ask.

“Slaloming sharks on his way to the Farallons.”

The quest to circumnavigate the Farallon Islands was cooked up by Gibson, 43, a former windsurfer. Wasson, 39, cofounder of kitesurfing clothier UltraNectar, and Kafka, 31, owner of a kitesurfing school, were eager to sign on to the challenge.

The three thought they had this trip wired. Last year they launched from boats moored off the Farallon Islands and breezed their way to San Francisco in a mere two hours.

Things went so smoothly they almost forgot that just beneath their feet were great whites.

This year they decided to go twice as far. Tim Wells, whose kitesurfing days are over, agreed to take his Protector 28 to the islands and, along with another boat, shadow them. A war room was set up in the back of Wasson’s warehouse. A triangle was drawn on a map: Point Reyes, Farallon Islands, San Francisco.

Trip planning played out like a long e-mail string filled with endless weather reports and graphs, mostly negative. Winds are best in spring and autumn, but that’s when waters get sharky. The team pored over forecasts and webcams, seeking time windows that would provide good visibility and southeasterly winds.

The date was postponed four times due to fog but finally a window appeared in early July.

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A change in plans

Wells wants a launch decision before a rising tide jacks up the waves even more. He radios the kiters that the point may be masking better wind conditions farther out at sea.

“You’re a magnet now,” he says, referring to the wind bursts that slap the land mass. “But where we are the winds are shaping up nicely. Can you swim out your boards?”

The kiters can’t pierce the shore break. They decide instead to drive less than a mile south to the calmer waters of Drake’s Beach. They launch quickly in this protected inlet and zoom past us with smiles, pulling a few tricks to get loose as they tack toward Point Reyes.

From here, they plan to turn south for the 18-mile trip to a spot marked “SEFI” on the boat’s GPS screen: South Eastern Farallon Island. It’s the intended pivot point from which they’ll make their final bearing toward the Golden Gate and a victorious sweep into the bay. One boat would guide, the other would bring up the rear.

When they near the point, turbulent southeasterly gales rotor over the high cliffs and blast 40-mph gusts at the kites, then die back to a 4-mph breeze, lurching the kiters off balance on the tail end of a roller coaster ride. A wind gauge reading that day would show 30-mph sustained winds with stronger bursts.

Gibson has trouble keeping up with the other two. After losing his board, I fish it out of the water and throw it to him. If there was a weak link, I had been told, it was Gibby; Wasson and Kafka were considered top Bay Area kitesurfers.

But within moments one side of Wasson’s harness shears off in a sudden gust. His safety leash -- the emergency lifeline that allows kiters to flatten their kites-- is out of his grasp and the harness still tethers him to the runaway kite.

For three long minutes the kite alternately dunks Wasson into the ocean and yanks him back out, the feared “tea bagging” that can strangle or drown a kiter. Pulled face down, he can’t pull in the kite or grasp the leash. With effort, he finally undoes a strap on the other side of the harness, and the pressure releases. The kite skips away.

The crew in the second boat drag the shaken Wasson aboard. Kafka and Gibson stay with their kites and the plan changes: Each boat will follow one kiter to help him navigate through the fog.

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‘It’s getting hairy’

Pointing the way for Kafka with our boat, I can no longer see the other boat, or Gibson. I notice the waves growing in size, and Kafka unintentionally being lifted 50 feet to 70 feet in the air. The prevailing winds make it difficult for him to stay on course at 180 degrees, and the 15-plus-foot swells aren’t helping either.

“It’s getting hairy out here,” Wells calls over the radio. “We think it’s getting too dangerous.”

“Gibby wants to keep going. We’re going to keep going,” is the response from the second boat.

The crew signals to Kafka, exhausted from all the wave-thrashing, and he agrees to come aboard. He crash lands his kite in the water, and Wells steers close to pick him up.

But as my mates pull him aboard, the lines of his kite become entangled in the boat’s propellers. The boat dies, setting us adrift in big water until knives are passed out and the lines are cut. Finally the props are free, and the boat heads home at full throttle.

Less than a minute later, our boat is caught in a valley between two giant swells. The bow stabs water, which rises quickly over the windshield, shattering it in our faces. I gulp saltwater and hang on. For a second, the boat stays upright. The water drains out but the boat is swamped, the forward compartment and gunwale flooded and the bowline low in the water. My initial relief quickly fades as I realize another big wave might sink us.

Wells orders us to the back of the boat to act as ballast while any and all bailing methods are employed. He makes the critical observation that broken glass is clogging the drain holes that funnel water to the bilge pump. We dig at the drain holes to clear away the glass. Finally the pump kicks in, and the water level drops.

By then all of us are bloody, but no one is seriously injured. The engines run, but a clear plastic cover that snaps onto the windshield frame can’t be attached for all the jagged glass. Wells endures the wind and spray in his eyes, and perfectly pilots the 18 miles back to San Francisco.

Kafka and I remain in the rear as ballast, which kept us wet but cheerful. Earlier I had asked him whether big-wave surfing trumped kiteboarding. When we finally catch sight of the Golden Gate Bridge, Kafka leans over, smiles and shouts: “I told you, this is why I like surfing. You know what you’re getting into.”

I limp into the St. Francis Yacht Club with the others before 6 p.m.; the second boat arrives an hour later. The others stare in disbelief at the crippled state of Wells’ boat. Gibson came within four miles of the Farallon Islands before tiring and calling it quits. And then without hesitation, the three agree to try again next year.

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(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX)

TIPS / Earning your wings

EXTREME feats with kites and boards have grown in the 10 years since the sport took hold. As trick artists compete for space on beaches, a new wave of kiters has even invaded ski slopes.

But for beginners who aren’t looking for a harrowing ride, a growing list of schools can show the way. Many pick low-key places such as beaches south of Belmont Pier in Long Beach where afternoon winds are consistent but not hairy.

Forget about borrowing gear and taking the plunge cold turkey. A few classes on safety will go a long way toward boosting the fun and avoiding accidents. Lessons cost about $200 to $500 for a two- to three-day course. Besides safe operating skills, you learn things you can’t pick up on the fly -- where not to launch your kite and what to do in sketchy wind conditions.

Advances in technology have made it safer and easier for amateurs to strap in and go. The adoption of a fifth control line in newer kite models allows greater control in trying to relaunch after crashing in the water or trying to “de-power” or flatten kites in high winds. Other safety advances make it easier to release the kite in an emergency.

Gearing up to kitesurf used to cost thousands -- a new kite alone can run $2,000 -- but on Internet sites such as EBay or ikitesurf.com you can get a full setup (kite, harness, kiteboard, control bar, leashes and lines) for less than $1,000.

Kiteboarding instructors favor Belmont Pier because of the mild winds in the area. On a recent visit, kitesurfer Mark Crain of Oceanside was watching his teenage children practice on a Ram-Air kite, a mini version of larger kites for beginners. “Start with the Ram-Air, and you’ll be ready for the water in no time,” Crain says.

-- Emmett Berg