Kitesurf final Fiji: 10km downwinder

I’m lying in the tent. A tropical thunderstorm is raging outside. The staff at the safari lodge are drinking kava today and singing to the ukelele next door. Nowhere else in the world have I heard people sing more beautifully. Several voices, one starts, the others respond, sometimes only women, sometimes only men. Always in several voices, and every song sounds like a lullaby.

I fall asleep and wake up a little later with a waterfall on my face. My tent is “slightly” leaking. I had to move because a whole ship full of new guests arrived two days ago. The big clash over the lack of prey on the island doesn’t materialise. The ship’s black sheep told us that there are even two couples on the ship holding hands. But they are extremists, he says.

We still have a big fire. But as is the way with Christian ships: we have to drink the beer alone with the Black Ship Sheep. We hop around the fire to the Rocky Horror Picture Show. The boat people go to bed sober at nine. I move from the tent back up to the bunks above the kitchen.

The wind has been almost completely gone for the last few days. I can’t get out. I sit on the beach, do some work and get my second island sickness in three weeks. The wind doesn’t come back until the penultimate day. In the morning I help Sotos with his kite training. It’s great fun to let the master hang out and see the gleam in the eyes of potential new addicts.

Around midday, I’m picked up from the sand bar by boat. Warren gives all long-term guests a mega downwinder on the last day. First by boat to Ellington Wharf. Then with the van packed with 5 kiters and 3 companions 10km to the east. A 100 metre upwind out over a reef at low tide is too much for me. Crashing into the reef once is enough for me for a while.

Nat, Dean, Marco and Grant go out immediately. I get the Eclipse Thruster ready in 12 on the beach and put it in Warren’s boat. He drives me over the reef a few hundred metres out to sea. Then we’re off.

Grant flies higher than the mountains. Dean ploughs the water like a bulldozer. Nat jumps over several times and once almost into the boat. Marco makes the craziest changes of direction in all variations. I struggle with the rather high waves until I finally get the hang of using every second one as a ramp for small jumps. My jumps are rather low 2 kilometres from the coast. It’s a good inspiration for clean landings when you have to swim that far.

Some gusts still leverage me high though. The resulting crashes are some of the juiciest in recent years. As the sun sets, we kite in formation past a few islands. The panorama is 100% Far Cry. Only much more beautiful.

Arriving in the bay of Nananu-i-Ra, I still haven’t had enough. A few more lanes. More jumps. Shortly before landing after 3.5 hours on the water, the wind becomes so weak that my Eclipse falls backwards in the middle of the power zone. With a mighty rocket launch, it pulls me the last few metres to the beach. Done.

Once ashore, I guzzle down huge amounts of Coke, but my legs just won’t stop burning and shaking. No last day could be more worthy. I was in heaven. Now I can look back down to earth.

Addendum 3.11.07: I’ve just added all the Google Maps, Fiji was just too slow for that. I now know why I was so knackered. It wasn’t 10 kilometres, it was 18 as the crow flies.