Storm In Invercargill

On the journey to Invercargill, I notice a lot of trees that look like wind tunnel dummies. All the branches grow in one direction. Almost every house before Invercargill is surrounded by a hedge more than a house high. Good signs put the pedal to the metal. My hostel is small and cosy: Southern Comfort, an Art Nouveau Victorian villa near the park.

Invercargill is quite old compared to other cities in New Zealand. Many different architectural styles, neo-gothic, classicism, imitation baroque and of course art deco. A beautiful town. Unfortunately no wind on the day I arrived. No matter. The neighbour’s WiFi is hijacked. Good people here, good conversations and a beautiful sunset by the sea.

On the morning of the second day, I wake up with trees blowing in front of my boss’s room. A quick breakfast and out the door. Oreti Beach is similar to 90 Mile Beach on the North Island. At low tide it’s 200 metres wide, very shallow and 20 kilometres long. The wind is chopping at over 75km/h. This is the first time in seven months of travelling that I can’t go out because of too much wind. I even tried it briefly. My board flies away, as does my harness and my neo. I can barely keep the kite uninflated. You can clearly see the slipstream of my kite in the pictures…

I pack up again and drive along the beach. The car rocks in the storm. It’s blowing so hard that the ground is barely visible. Blowing sand races across the firm beach. It looks like cirrus clouds in fast motion. I fly over it with my jet.

After driving along both ends of the beach, I reach the entrance in the middle again. The wind has become weaker. I set up the kite, a German lifeguard gives me a jump start and takes a few pictures. Unfortunately, the wind has become much weaker, almost too weak. Big waves break on the beach 400 metres wide. It would be easier with more wind. I get washed a few times and lose a lot of height.

After an hour I’ve had enough. The tide comes in, the wind is almost gone. No sooner have I packed up the kite than it starts to rain. A day for work. Or shopping. I drive into town. After a quarter of an hour’s fruitless search for wine in the supermarket, I ask a shop assistant where it can be found. Nowhere, she says. In Invercargill, only liquor stores are allowed to sell alcohol. Very amusing. I drive to one. It’s as big as an IKEA and you can order bottles from the drive-in.