Langebaan

South Africa is strange. After 150 kilometres with 3 bends through the most monotonous Brazilian pampas, we arrive in Langebaan. Langebaan looked like a big city on the map, but 90% of the houses are just holiday homes, and they are all empty even in the middle of the high season – behind thick nasty fences on far too much empty space.

As strange as the surroundings are, the people are wonderful. The first is Dane Per. At 88, his father Poul was the oldest kiter in the world. He died happily in his wetsuit from a heart attack. 150 kiters gathered in a circle in the mirror-smooth Danish Sea, like King Arthur’s table in XXL. They scattered his ashes. Suddenly the dead sea came to life.

Arriving in Langebaan after a 2-hour drive, we were rewarded with a turquoise sandy beach and almost sugar-coloured sand. Quite a strong wind, which is very welcome in the heat of around 30 degrees. It feels like a little paradise for visitors.
Freshly rested, we drive to the West Coast National Park on our second day (admission 75 R per person). This is the first time I have seen ostriches – they are so big and enchanting with their endlessly long eyelashes. The flamingos were sunbathing splendidly on a snow-white sandbank – they are even more pink than I thought. I am impressed by the clever seagulls that drop shells onto stones from a great height to open them. All the animals there look so happy that I’m sure they’re doing really well.

We are more ready for a holiday than ever before, I refer all my customers to the dear helpers or postpone work for a month. Despite this, we somehow manage to travel brilliantly. A holiday is a break from something you don’t like. Travelling means moving. We move a hell of a lot.

There is a small island off Langebaan. On the first day we have our first relaxed kite session with seals after a 20-hour flight and a 2-hour journey. The second day is a bit of a rocket for the first time with a good 25 knots. The 5 is too much for Verena to learn. The third day is all about Shark Bay with breakfast on the beach followed by a few hours of bodydrag training and then a few metres on the board.

After the lesson, I check my Liquid Force valve so thoroughly that I only realise 1.5 km downwind in the middle of the bay that my kite is flapping its wings rather than cutting wind. With a flat tube, the self-rescue takes me to the only 20 metre wide sandy beach between high cliffs. After the walk back, I realise why kite instructors are often completely exhausted after their short evening session.