Dear Kiteboard, I know that times are tough. I’m dragging you to the end of the world. A nice end, but one where you have less to do than anywhere else. Even at Lake Garda, the topography makes kiting less stupid than here. I really didn’t know about the only 4% over 4 Beaufort wind statistics. But I’ll do everything I can to look after you.
I actually wanted to relax. Uli wanted to study for his diving licence. But you whinge in the room like an infant with thin poo. So I rented another bike, a little scooter today. Despite the miserable wind forecast, we rode 70 kilometres on the worst tracks through the jungle to make you laugh.
The road is hell. First a dirt track, then a few passes only 400 metres high. The climbs are so tough that the 125 is still too weak. Pushing in the blazing midday sun. Everything for you, my kiteboard. Coarse gravel, sand and 50cm deep torrents. Uli was right when she said “What are you taking the board for? There’s no wind anyway.”. But she is the heroine of the day, because the wind cost her a lot of energy with you upright in her rucksack. And yet she doesn’t get between us. She sits between the kite, me and you.
The views are brilliant. The greenest jungle hell, bamboo palms and bananas. Only two-wheelers come up here. The “main road” has slipped. The diversion leads 10km along a 50cm wide footpath through the middle of the jungle. Then, after two and a half hours of hard work, we finally arrive: we find the perfect kite beach in Coron. Exposed to the north-east, the wind here blows sideonshore to onshore across the sea. Come on. It’s completely calm today. Uli has something good.
The beach is pure white sand, no coral or stones. Five metres wide, it stretches for over a kilometre in a gently curving bay. The width is perfectly adequate, as the water is 1000 by 200 metres deep right up to the reef. I am gobsmacked. This is a kiter’s paradise. Then a Frenchman comes along, whom we had already met on the route. His Filipino pillion rider is almost of age, if we’re lucky. Johnny Hallyday seems to be everywhere, even though I try to convince myself that the world isn’t as bad as it seems.
What are you doing, dear Kiteboard? Keep nagging from your rucksack. You’re annoying! Enjoy the view, be happy to be here. You only ever want the sea, while I try to be happy travelling with very little. Even if it’s only ten minutes, because we absolutely have to make it back in daylight. The hostel warden at the coconut was right: everything here is pure and unspoilt. Waving children run after us everywhere. Almost like a rally, but without the time pressure. We arrive in Coron just as the sun is setting. My arms are pure pudding. Shaken, not stirred.
Dear Kiteboard, I know times are tough. I’m dragging you to the end of the world. A nice end, but one where you have less to do than anywhere else. Even at Lake Garda, kiting is less stupid than here because of the topography. I really didn’t know about the only 4% over 4 Beaufort wind statistics. But I’ll do everything I can to look after you.
I actually wanted to relax. Uli wanted to study for his diving licence. But you whinge in the room like an infant with thin poo. So I rented another bike, a little scooter today. Despite the miserable wind forecast, we rode 70 kilometres on the worst tracks through the jungle to make you laugh.
The road is hell. First a dirt track, then a few passes only 400 metres high. The climbs are so tough that the 125 is still too weak. Pushing in the blazing midday sun. Everything for you, my kiteboard. Coarse gravel, sand and 50cm deep torrents. Uli was right when she said “What are you taking the board for? There’s no wind anyway.”. But she is the heroine of the day, because the wind cost her a lot of energy with you upright in her rucksack. And yet she doesn’t get between us.
The views are brilliant. The greenest jungle hell, bamboo palms and bananas. Only two-wheelers come up here. The “main road” has slipped away. The diversion leads 10km along a 50cm wide footpath through the middle of the jungle. Then, after two and a half hours of hard work, we finally arrive: we find the perfect kite beach in Coron. Exposed to the north-east, the wind here blows sideonshore to onshore across the sea. Come on. It’s completely calm today. Uli has something good
The beach is pure white sand, with no coral or stones. Five metres wide, it stretches for over a kilometre in a gently curving bay. The width is perfectly adequate, as the water is 1000 by 200 metres deep right up to the reef. I am gobsmacked. This is a kiter’s paradise. Then a Frenchman comes along, whom we had already met on the route. His Filipino pillion rider is almost of age, if we’re lucky. Johnny Hallyday seems to be everywhere, even though I try to convince myself that the world isn’t as bad as it seems.
What are you doing, dear Kiteboard? Keep nagging from your rucksack. You’re annoying! Enjoy the view, be happy to be here. You only ever want the sea, while I try to be happy travelling with very little. Even if it’s only ten minutes, because we absolutely have to make it back in daylight. The hostel warden at the coconut was right: everything here is pure and unspoilt. Waving children run after us everywhere. Almost like a rally, but without the time pressure. We arrive in Coron just as the sun is setting. My arms are pure pudding. Shaken, not stirred.
Dear kiteboard, I know times are tough. I’m dragging you to the end of the world. A nice end, but one where you have less to do than anywhere else. Even at Lake Garda, kiting is less stupid than here because of the topography. I really didn’t know about the only 4% over 4 Beaufort wind statistics. But I’ll do everything I can to look after you.
I actually wanted to relax. Uli wanted to study for his diving licence. But you whinge in the room like an infant with thin poo. So I rented another bike, a little scooter today. Despite the miserable wind forecast, we rode 70 kilometres on the worst tracks through the jungle to make you laugh.
The road is hell. First a dirt track, then a few passes only 400 metres high. The climbs are so tough that the 125 is still too weak. Pushing in the blazing midday sun. Everything for you, my kiteboard. Coarse gravel, sand and 50cm deep torrents. Uli was right when she said “What are you taking the board for? There’s no wind anyway.”. But she is the heroine of the day, because the wind cost her a lot of energy with you upright in her rucksack. And yet she doesn’t get between us.
The views are brilliant. The greenest jungle hell, bamboo palms and bananas. Only two-wheelers come up here. The “main road” has slipped away. The diversion leads 10km along a 50cm wide footpath through the middle of the jungle. Then, after two and a half hours of hard work, we finally arrive: we find the perfect kite beach in Coron. Exposed to the north-east, the wind here blows sideonshore to onshore across the sea. Come on. It’s completely calm today. Uli has something good
The beach is pure white sand, without any coral or stones. Five metres wide, it stretches for over a kilometre in a gently curving bay. The width is perfectly adequate, as the water is 1000 by 200 metres deep right up to the reef. I am gobsmacked. This is a kiter’s paradise. Then a Frenchman comes along, whom we had already met on the route. His Filipino pillion rider is almost of age, if we’re lucky. Johnny Hallyday seems to be everywhere, even though I try to convince myself that the world isn’t as bad as it seems.
What are you doing, dear Kiteboard? Keep nagging from your rucksack. You’re annoying! Enjoy the view, be happy to be here. You only ever want the sea, while I try to be happy travelling with very little. Even if it’s only ten minutes, because we absolutely have to make it back in daylight. The hostel warden at the coconut was right: everything here is pure and unspoilt. Waving children run after us everywhere. Almost like a rally, but without the time pressure. We arrive in Coron just as the sun is setting. My arms are pure pudding. Shaken, not stirred.
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.