During my last trip to Adícora, I found myself sharing the waters with Matt White, a young American from Colorado. When I first saw him, he was ripping up Adícora's fine beach break, alternately logging serious air time and carving impressive jibes off the wave faces. I caught up with him back on shore. He was hanging out with one of the few native shredheads, Chober, learning Spanish and Venezuelan slang. He told me he'd seen a mention of the town in one of windsurfing's bigger rags and had decided to head down. He was renting a little place and was going on his third, and final, month on the Peninsula. As I replayed his impressive wave session in my head, I asked him how many years he'd been sailing.

His answer took me aback. When Matt arrived in Adícora, then a 26-year-old carpenter by trade, he had never stepped on a windsurfer in his life! Neither did he speak a word of Spanish. He went from someone who had never so much as tugged an uphaul to an accomplished wave sailor in less time than the gestation period of your average house cat. On top of that, he was learning to converse in the native tongue and curse like a Cuban pirate to boot. This is precisely the kind of opportunity that Adícora offers.

Adícora is what you might call a semi-discovered, semi-developed, windsurfing destination. You don't need to consult a meteorologist to confidently state that it is one of the most consistently windy spots in the world. Its two shores offer everything from wave sailing to a protected bay. Aside from wind and waves, you will find a small population of gregarious fishermen, a reliable beer joint that'll cook you a decent meal, a restaurant or two, a couple of shops for provisions, a few places that will rent you a room, and a nearly endless supply of houses to rent. What you won't find are high-rise hotels, all inclusive package deals, throngs of German, Canadian and American windsurfers, packed discos, and roaming jewelry sellers/hair braiders. As a matter of fact, other than during Venezuelan holiday periods, it can be practically a ghost town.

No welcoming center awaits you to explain the various businesses, services or lay of the land; and, much like Venezuela as a whole, it is largely devoid of English speakers. In fact, if you arrive long after dark, the only other beings you are likely to encounter on the empty avenues are foraging cattle.

This guide is designed to arm the maverick windsurfing traveler with the kind of knowledge that it took the likes of Matt and me months to accumulate. It will allow you to maximize your enjoyment from day one, and to spend more time on the water and less time settling in.