Neusiedl Kite Wars

We are travelling to Lake Neusiedl. To even ask the school whether Sabine can do an advanced kite course, you would actually have to pay a 4 euro beach user fee. There is no course. On to the north-north beach. Great: this year it only costs €5.50. Bugger: the revolving door now even has a guard.

The beach is packed with super-fit trouser-over-neoprene wearers. We set up. When the only good bloke on the beach launches Sabine’s kite, I don’t pay attention. He turned it towards the power zone. Sabine is torn 20 metres through the grass. If her harness hadn’t ripped when we jumped on her, she would have shredded the fence two metres away.

Sabine has a few abrasions. I immediately rush over the fence into the marina, where the kite has laid down in front of a sailboat parked on land. After just 10 seconds there are four hyper-aggressive sailors who immediately pull out their penknives and threaten to cut the lines. They shout at me. The world is full of belligerent idiots.

Sabine isn’t doing anything today. Lake Neusiedl is huge. But the local communities only let us practise our sport on 30 metres of beach. I thank them for this infinitely generous favour. The result of this mercy: 200 kiter traffic jams. Nothing works, people want to get in, people want to get out.

This truly marvellous situation is made even better by the fact that there are always 50 kiters sitting around on the north-north beach. But hardly anyone helps with landing without shouting several times beforehand. After a while, I launch my kite on the 30 metres of beach available.

Out on Lake Neusiedl, it’s all over, there’s space, everyone is more relaxed. Someone brings me my board, which I can’t get back to after a heavy crash in the now weak wind. Thank you! I finally crack the 5 metre mark, practise switches and changes. But I’m not really enjoying it any more.

I love kitesurfing. I hate war. Kitesurfing on Lake Neusiedl was a war today, everyone against everyone else.