15 kiters travel from Camp Kitesurf Mindoro to the village by minivan and take a banka to the island of Libagau, an hour off Mindoro. The spray spills refreshingly over the deck from the crisp swell. In front of the island, we pull the banca on foot over some sea urchin nests through the shallows of today’s low tide towards the beach. Starfish RGB shine in the crystal-clear water.
The island of Libagau looks like the ultimate kitesurfing paradise: turquoise water, white beach, blue sky, green trees. The wind blows sideoff at a good 18 to 22 knots over the spot, which is not without danger. At low tide, the water in the choppy bay behind the sandbank in the south-west of the island is very shallow. There are some rocks and sea urchins. There are also a few sharp pieces of coral on the beach.
Waves of up to one metre today roll over the reef in a very steep and defined manner. The wind blows over it at exactly the right angle, in other words: perfect ramps for rocket sailing. Today we spend an hour and a half just yodelling on the kite until the grilled tuna on the beach.
Then we start the eight-kilometre downwinder to the island of Nabugat across the open sea in a swell of a good metre. On the way, I save a fellow kiter’s board and enjoy the turquoise flat water upwind of Nabugat Island. The first time I land, a rather aggressive dog tries to bite me. I back off into the deep water. The wind is blowing directly onshore. Kiting half a metre off the beach, I chase the dog back and forth for a good half hour, 100 metres at a time, until he is so over that he only looks in my direction once more, panting boredly, when I finally land.
The wind dies down a little. I land the 10 and set up the 13. After a few minutes on the water, a Frenchwoman bangs into my lines from behind. We both release immediately. Nobody gets hurt. My kite sinks down slowly at first, as desired. Then a gust hits it. It rises upwards, turns 180 degrees at a height of ten metres and crashes onto the sandbank full of sharp coral, pointed branches, broken glass and ripped open tin cans.
The result is numerous scratches on a one metre front tube – and another tear in the Dacron. This is the fourth kite damage on one trip. Even the fact that I was only to blame for one of them is hardly any consolation.
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.