The days follow a fixed rhythm. Get up late in the morning, walk 20 metres to the beach and keep your nose to the wind. Breakfast and hijack the neighbour’s WiFi. Two hours of work, nose into the wind again. Set up the kite, talk shop and head out onto the water. Today, the wind was really blowing for the first time. And Windfinder reckons there’s more to come.
My kite was always a little underpowered. Today everything fits from two o’clock. I’m hanging comfortably in the harness, don’t have to pull anything, just let myself drift. The waves outside are up to 1.5 metres high because of the wind. It’s also quite gusty, I have my problems with the ups and downs out at sea. There’s a lot to learn from cruising alone.
After just under an hour, I go ashore and refuel with sugar. Then straight back out again. Somehow I overlook Jörg upwind, who is jubilantly doing his first downwinder. Our kites collide and I dutifully hook one of his lines behind me and one in front of my harness hook. An uncontrolled relaunch of his nine-pointer gets my pulse racing. The lines rip across my ribs.
I just shout for him to unhook. Jörg follows my “everything” somewhat overzealously and also unhooks the safety. His kite flies off across the sea after I’ve freed myself from the lines. I get back on the board and go kite hunting. A little later I catch him, lose my board and get caught in the lines again. Definitely more enjoyable when you’re dragging the kite on a nose ring towards the beach.
Jörg’s Vietnamese kiteboy on the beach apologises as if it was his mistake. Back in the water, I rescue my board and mutate into a wind animal again. Unfortunately not for too long this time. I lose my board far out and can’t get back to it for the life of me. A good kiter rescues it, I get on and am happy about the coastal development on this part of the beach: a 4 metre high breakwater.
After 500 metres of walking upwind and two hours on the water, I’m back on my beach and quite exhausted. Shakily ashore. Secure the kite. Refuel with sugar. Smoke a rescue. Celebrate my survival with Jörg. Scream a little into the wind out of sheer happiness. Weigh down the board, pack up, eat, work, go to the bar. For the fifth time, staple up arms that have fallen off and blog with your toes. Done.
Blessed: I count the calluses on my hand.
Oh it’s such a perfect day…
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.