Riders on the storm

I’m going out for a wild night with a few people from the course. There aren’t many bars. We stay in the same marvellous Marmalade Bar until three o’clock. In Barcelona, you can easily meet 10 people from 20 different countries every hour. It’s a colourful mix, there are stories from all over the world.

The next morning, the world is shaking. Sure, it was a heavy night, I think. But it’s not. The house is really shaking. The predicted storm has hit Barcelona with gusts of well over 100 kilometres per hour. Morning news: four people dead, three swept into the sea, hundreds of emergencies, chaos. I take to the streets. The storm is playing roller dominoes. The longest line I saw consisted of seven overturned scooters.

The trees are bending, the lanterns are swaying, tarpaulins are flying everywhere, heavy rubbish containers are in the middle of the street. The underground railway is full of leaves, umbrellas are tearing, shutters are being ripped from their anchors. I walk up the exposed Montjuic and am very happy to find my car still undamaged. A young Montpellinese accompanies me to Castelldefels, 30 kilometres away.

Some of the large bridge signs above the motorway have been knocked down. Nothing works on the motorway. Trucks have been blown over next to the motorway, hardly a sign is still standing. The car is shaking in the storm. Everywhere, the fire brigade is clearing trees that have toppled onto the road.

A telephone box has been hit by a tree. One street over, a large pine tree has buried a car and torn down a wall. Neighbours help each other to fix the fence. Trees lie in the park with their feet up. The bus station in Castelldefels has been completely mown down by the storm. Storm lines are torn, dancing in the streets. Forces of nature like never seen before. What a day for kiting!

Castelldefels beach is the kite spot of the Barcelonese. Today, sand and water fly through the air here. The tower of the Nautic Club has hardly any windows left. A large part of the roof is also missing. Overturned catamarans lie in front of it. The sea is boiling. The forces of nature are smashing everything to pieces.

My hand trembles with fear. The wind here is blowing sideshore at an average of around 50 km/h, but the gusts in between are certainly over 80 km/h. Two surfers are out with sails twice the size of handkerchiefs. I only have one kite. Cabrinha Crossbow 12m². And I know: it’s far too big.

But I still want to risk it. A short hell of a ride and then jump off the bull like a cowboy. I set up the kite and put on the lines. My fear grows. I have doubts. A surfer comes by and tells me that I’m tired of life and that I shouldn’t go out. At that moment, a powerful gust of wind finally convinces me. This would be a kitesurfing day to tell your great-grandchildren about. You just have to be able to do it. I pack up.