We drive on to Coffs Harbour. We set up camp just a few metres from a rather lively surfer beach. It rains almost non-stop for the entire first day. Shopping, working, killing time. Nothing happens, and my friends spend the 6th day of a few in Australia in constant rain. I still have 10,000 kilometres of desert ahead of me, so I take it easy.
The next morning we have a massive problem naming the colour of the sky. Is it red? Or green? The hostel chief eventually says it’s blue. Usually a sign of good weather. Oi, oh, good weather? Good weather!!!
Quick, before the next rain comes! Off to the nearest surf beach! No wind for kitesurfing, but hostel surfboards for free. Normally, waves far out and in the middle always look much more violent than from the beach. Today’s swell already looked worrying from the beach. Even more so. You can feel the rumble of the waves in the air and on the ground.
Waves of up to three metres break in quick succession on two sandbanks at the northern end of Park Beach. Lots of surfers are trying their luck. Aussies with big trucks and bellies are standing on the wildlife platform and inspecting local skills.
I grab my bodyboard and spend 15 minutes trying in vain to get through the first crest of the wave. My thoughts over a frustrating cigarette back on the beach: “I’m a kiteboarder, not a surfer, that’s rubbish!”. But you always have to be more than that. Back into the water. Through the waves. Out to the big ones. Made it!
That means: the waves break behind me. I paddle back. Catch a big wave. And it catches me. As a kiter, you learn little about the power of waves. The same went in the direction of Star Wars. I see lightsabres and hear Darth Vader snorting. After 15 seconds of spinning, I’m back above water. One experience richer: kitesurfing is cooler and you get a lot more air.
I swim through the waves with Verena and the Lord. But none of us are surfing them today. Another swim follows in the evening. The white waves glow in the sunset.
The little Israeli shows up again in the evening. She dedicates “Ironic” by Mrs Morisette to me. Two girls sing a song that I forgot the words to years ago. Verena almost dislocates my shoulder as she tries quite physically to force me to stay up. I go to bed limping on my left arm. Last night? Thousands!
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.