After two days in the room due to sunburn and work, the wind picks up again. I go out on the water in the afternoon. I’m the only kiter on the beach in front of El Yaque Motion. I launch the kite in a gusty 18 knots and head out. After half an hour, I’ve made it half a kilometre through an armada of surfers to the kite beach.
I let myself drop through the armada again. In front of my beach, the wind is getting stronger and very rough. Then it happens. During a high jump, a gust catches me. Instead of steering the kite forwards again, I pull it backwards. It stalls and falls out of the sky without any pressure.
So far so good. What makes today’s kite sad are two facts. Firstly, the kite turns back into the wind with its underside. Secondly, the wind is now up to 25 knots. Even before the kite reaches the surface of the water, it slams into the end of the line in the middle of the power zone. A hell of a hit. At first I don’t realise why the kite is suddenly lying flat in the water and pull it 200 metres back to the beach.
I start screaming on the beach. The force has torn my wings off. The kite has a two metre long tear in the middle from the front tube down to the trailing edge. It’s also torn through. My wings are fucked, sad kite is spreading. I don’t think the kite can be saved. Rest in peace.
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.