The Noosa Downwinder

The days come and go. The place is good, but nothing happens anyway. The travellers drink, not with intent to destroy, but for no good reason and without lasting results. The little switch behind my right ear slips unnoticed from “life” to “survival”. I don’t stay outside, but I’m certainly not inside either.

The second mechanic is a yellow angel in grey – without having to pay for ADAC. Within 5 days, he replaces the water pump and adjusts the valve settings. Despite a serious accident at work, he single-handedly makes my car fit again in the promised time. I give him a good bonus and am happy to be able to continue my journey.

In Noosa the wind was supposed to blow like hell for five days non-stop. What we had was hellish rain. The mechanic has been here twice in the last two days to hand over the kite I left in the car. But only a march to Canossa brings success. Earning things. The wind finally blows on the last day.

The shuttle takes me over to Sunshine Beach. I take a photo, me with kite and waves. Suddenly, an Aussie pulls up. “Ey bro, wanna go for a downwinder?” Sure. I hop on his bus. Kerry is from Mount Maunganui in New Zealand, just like my current kite. A sign!

Kerry’s friend Katie delivers a second car, and after half an hour we’re out on Sunshine Beach. A few Aussie kiters joke: there’s a shark out there somewhere. What can I say? The wind too and shit happens anyway.

The wind is blowing full onshore at 20 knots. Waves 1.5 metres, just the way I don’t like it, but whatever: wind is wind. I can’t remember ever having been washed so often within 2 hours and 5 kilometres. Again and again over the wide surf zone. The centre ridge is the meanest. I get over it I get over it I…SHIT…then spin cycle, again and again.

The best wave of the day breaks directly above me. The pull on the lines is too low to keep the kite in the air. After 10 seconds under water, I take a deep breath. My legs are wrapped in the kite lines. Then comes the pull in the middle of the power zone. Would certainly have been worth a please-smile video: Frank. Lines around my knuckles, power start foot first. No control, full throttle on the bum towards the beach.

I somehow free myself, then the fifth line wraps around the centre of the kite. Next to me is the little Australian, a ballerina on ecstasy in the waves. A year’s experience against ten. Without neoprene, I’m sure I would have been very small….

Apart from that? It’s a bit like Sodom and gonorrhoea in paradise on Fiji right now. But at least people still know each other the next day. Some even for more than two. You can watch, it’s not fun, but it works.

I play chess against a Finn with a knight tattoo on his upper arm. He’s arrogant, loud, egotistical. In short: an arse. The sympathy of the spectators is on my side. After ten moves I have his queen, but I don’t get arrogant and continue to play with concentration. But even drunk, he’s too good. After 1.5 hours, I lose a litre of beer, which probably won’t make him any dumber. Too bad. He celebrates his victory like John McEnroe celebrated a loss in tennis.

I’m working on six projects at the same time. On the one hand, I need the money, but on the other, it’s clearly too much for the first time on the trip. I can’t see anything anymore, I’m only working six to eight hours a day. Topping up my account so that I can enjoy travelling again on my days off.

A little German girl gives herself a stone-cold ten out of ten when asked by a bisexual British woman. It wasn’t the reason that was impressive, but the conviction. Learning something: life is not what you see, but how you see it. What it looks like may be impressive. But it’s not important. What remains in the long run can only be the fascination of conviction – or the realisation that what you wanted to see was never what happened in front of you.