The Rocket Kiter From Wellington

The animal experiments on manned space travel in the 1960s brought NASA one ground-breaking realisation in particular: dogs have a short life. To be precise: too short for interstellar space travel. NASA is therefore now looking for suitable human test subjects for longer-term employment.

The job advertisement calls for a pronounced bounce and promises excessive opportunities for inner contemplation as well as few pee breaks. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, which is why applications have so far fallen well short of NASA’s expectations. Rumour has it that the first test subjects have already been abducted.

We arrive in Wellington early in the morning. Tutukaka screams for the brakes to be repaired, which takes several hours. At our last stop on New Year’s Eve, we met a Bavarian who had just emigrated to Wellington. I didn’t find out about his jumping ability at the time due to the lack of wind.

This time, the wind is blowing a decent 22 knots from the north. The Bavarian picks us up at the hostel before check-in. We drive to Seatoun Beach in the outer bay of Wellington and set up straight away. He rides a 2009 Evo in 10m², I set up the 13m² Crossbow. The waves are small, but with white foam on top. Fine.

I’ve been kiting for 13 years and can’t do a single trick. It’s just not important to me. What is important to me are high jumps. Preferably the highest. But this crown is being taken from me today. The Wellington kite rocket rightly asked for anonymity. If NASA were to see his jumps, he would have disappeared in no time and been abducted to the next spaceship. NASA would save the fuel for the first ten metres, which is where spaceships need the most fuel.

The rocket kiter jumps without end. Hardly any jump is less than five metres high. The good ones are seven metres high and 20 metres wide. The Interislander ferry passes by. Yes, of course, just a question of perspective. Nevertheless: he jumps over it. I can do what I want, I just can’t reach it. He only started a year ago. I’m sure Spock would find that fascinating.

Our days in Wellington pass quickly. Shopping for presents, a bit of touring through the city and a concert in the Medusa bar. On the last day, the wind turns south. Arctic winds herald the start of autumn in New Zealand. It gets cloudy and cold, but the 20 knots of wind conjure up a wonderfully evenly breaking swell of one and a half metres at Lyall Beach.

Lyall Beach is unique in the world. We kite 200 metres from Wellington International Airport – legal, but you shouldn’t get any closer to the airport. A surfboard has allegedly never been found in a jet engine, and there are certainly cheaper car parks for kites.

The rocket kiter jumps over the jumbo jets, down to the beach in 10 cm deep water and over the buses travelling along the beach promenade. I’m also blown out today with 9m², but the landings are almost all albatross-style. Some big waves catch me clean. Not bad, the Wellington kiters are very obliging when it comes to getting out of the way.

We dedicate the last evening to interior design. With 150,000 inhabitants, Wellington is just about the size of Regensburg. But easily five times as many pubs. Each one is unique. I think we manage six or seven, I can’t remember exactly. It seems to have been a good evening.