Migratory birds

When I was little, I had a big question: Where do migratory birds fly to? The answers were quickly found and included numerous countries. I devoured all the documentaries about these destinations. Sometimes you could even see birds. Even though I was getting closer to their destinations, I was still missing one thing: their route there. So I started dreaming of flying. Even before I left the earth once, I knew what it looked like from above. I took off with the birds.

Today I am one of them. I no longer dream of flying. I fly. Early in the morning, we take a beach buggy to the starting point a good kilometre west of Jericoacoara. With the wind blowing sideways at a mild 18 knots at the start, we set off with small kites on the longest downwinder I’ve ever flown.

It’s a long way to our destination. Tatajuba is a good 25 kilometres west of Jericoacoara. The journey today was probably around 75 kilometres. Like migratory birds, we cross numerous countries around the world. Sometimes the water is shallow, sometimes mild waves break at low tide. Halfway through the journey, we take a rest like migratory birds in the mouth of the Rio Guirú. At low tide, many kiters share little and very shallow water.

The wind picks up considerably from midday. I reach the end of my wingtips. All the waves out to sea knock you far out to leeward. This is no longer surfing. It’s flying. In the flat water behind the waves inland, it’s difficult to use the edge in a controlled manner. The wind is getting stronger and stronger.

After a good four hours of flying, we arrive in Tatajuba. The wind is now chopping at over 30 knots. The shy Viking Johan tries to land my kite as I can barely keep contact with the ground. His waveboard flies away as he tries. Ian releases and tames my wings. In the small beach restaurant in Tatajuba, a hammock is blowing horizontally in the wind.