Good days usually follow bad nights. We sit down for happy hour at Charlh’s bar. When we get up, it’s just before three o’clock at night. The hangover the next morning is at least as great as the night before. The wind’s back, the windless period is over. 45 minutes of sleep per rum and coke will have to do. There have been a few.
Balabog Beach is already full before midday today: 120 kiters are out on the water and the entire beach is full of sea rubbish thanks to the first wind in a week: driftwood, fishing nets, plastic bottles, bags, loads of seaweed and broken glass. Boracay’s sanctity finally crumbles to dust. What remains is a nice strong wind of 15-25 knots. Nothing else.
As the forecast was much lower in the morning, I only have the 13 with me – that’s already quite a lot for the first ride in the morning. I go out as thick rain clouds gather. A little later, it’s pouring with rain and visibility drops to less than 100 metres. One short line into the surf means an extra 10kg of seaweed at the next start. I can’t find Max, I’m worried. I fall asleep on a bench.
After a while I’m woken up by the now even stronger wind. Gusts of up to 28 knots are now hitting the beach. I go for the last knot, pull the depower full and go out again. I can barely keep contact with the water. I don’t jump over the waves, I just take off. As soon as I pull on the bar, the spray behind the board becomes endless. I’ve never travelled as fast as I did today. I know, because I’ve never had a crash where all the air was pushed out of my lungs.
The wind is pretty up and down, I’m constantly fiddling with the adjuster. You need a lot of space for jumps these days. Even without flying back, every jump today goes to the second floor. Just pull on the bar and take off. Flying back takes you straight to the top floor. Endless hangover hangtime, seconds in slow motion, big grins and bliss.
It doesn’t matter that it keeps raining heavily in between. Max stays outside for over five hours at a time. With two breaks, I manage a good three hours. We don’t leave the beach until long after sunset. As always, Boracay is flooded when it rains. It smells of sewage everywhere. We sit shivering in the trike and grin in silence.
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.