Sensation Seeking

There is a test that was published as part of the Zuckerman-Kuhlman Personality Questionnaire that will purportedly measure what your sensation seeking disposition is.  I was curious to take this test since the two sports that I devote most of my time to, rock climbing and kite surfing, have always been considered to be extreme.  Since I have never really considered myself to be extreme, I was not surprised that my score on the sensation seeking test was low, a mere 32%.  This just reinforces my belief that most people that take part in an 'extreme' sport rarely consider their actions to be dangerous.  I climb and kite surf because I love to physically overcome challenges in a natural setting.  I obsess over how to use my body efficiently.  I love setting goals in these realms and thoroughly enjoy the process of achieving them.  And I seem to thrive at sports that require focus, determination and dedication just to avoid serious bodily harm.  But I do not have a death wish.  And if I get an adrenaline rush while kiting or climbing, it means something has gone terribly wrong.  All in all, I do these sports because I like to be in control, not because I am on a wild sensation seeking binge. 

Last Thursday, the wind report for the afternoon was showing promise and seeing as how it was a very hot day, we left for Huguenot hoping some decent thermals might kick in.  When we arrived, it was obvious that the wind was ridable, but I was on the fence about what size kite to fly.  If it strengthened, I would need my 10m, but if it stayed at the speed it was at, I would need something bigger.  My extreme distaste for being underpowered won over, and Wilbur and I decided that he would ride my 13m and I would ride his 12m.  This was actually my first chance at riding his Slingshot 12m RPM, and I was really excited.  We rigged quickly and got to riding in no time.  My first couple of runs were awesome - I felt in control, the kite flew smoothly and I had perfect speed.  But after about 30 minutes, the wind boosted and swung a little more southerly.  At Huguenot, southerly directions mean the winds do not have the nice long fetch of the Atlantic Ocean and they become more gusty because of the obstacles on shore that they must travel over.  My casual riding day quickly turned into just trying to stay on my board and not wipe out.  On one of my tacks back into shore, I got hit by a powerful gust.  I didn’t lose my board, but I did drop my kite right next to a lovely family trying to recreate in the surf.  The father looked genuinely concerned for me and kept yelling offers of help, and all I could think was “Do I look that bad?”  Well, I got to learn the beauty of the Slingshot RPM that day because as soon as I dropped the kite, it relaunched itself with little prompting from me.   Once I got everything back under control, I assessed my situation and decided I was truly too overpowered and needed to come back in, not only for my safety but for those around me.  Case in point, I am guessing this does not qualify as a sensation seeking action.

This day rattled me.  It was with serious trepidation that I headed out with Wilbur on the following Saturday.  The wind looked borderline, and I have to admit, I was hoping it would not blow.  But blow it did, and we rigged our kites accordingly.  This time I was back on my beloved 13m Slingshot Octane.  The wind was blowing out of a more easterly direction and I felt very comfortable riding the gentle swells of the Atlantic.  My goal for the day was to get my weight more evenly over my board and try to expose more of the bottom of my board to the water to see if that helped me stay upwind.  Whatever I was doing worked since I rode in the vicinity of Wilbur and our buddy Stan for the entire time.  Somewhere in the middle of my session, I remembered my friend and mentor Beth Lygoe telling me that even if I never wanted to jump, I would probably accidentally do so as a product of flying the kite quickly over the top of the window in order to transition from one direction to the other.  Feeling confident, I decided to try this on purpose.  Of course, hindsight is 20/20, and this would have been more appropriate close to shore rather than however many hundreds of yards offshore I was.  Needless to say, the experiment failed and I wound up slingshotting myself to and fro while losing my board.  This is the interesting part.

Part of my love for kiting and climbing is the process your mind goes through when you encounter trouble.  Once I lost my board and got my kite back under control, I looked to see how far from shore I was.  The distance was considerable.  I wouldn’t have wanted to swim that distance if someone paid me.  So instead of panicking, I immediately got down to the job of upwind body dragging to get my board back.  It took me four tacks, I got the board back easily and rode my way back into shore.

Again, losing my board that far from shore was not thrilling.  It was not what I was out there to do.  Strangely enough, it seems like I crave the calm that takes over when you are in distress rather than some thrill of being in peril.  And more importantly, I enjoy avoiding dangerous situations altogether.  So I’m not sure what type of person Zuckerman-Kuhlman is trying to pigeonhole, but it certainly isn’t me.  

Grounded

The dreaded summer doldrums are upon us.  And actually, it's not because we are plagued by light sea breezes. It's the afternoon thunderstorms that are keeping us land bound.  Every day for the past week, a line of red cells come marching across the state of Florida, initially driving the wind to teasingly wonderful speeds only to sweep the wind along with them as they make their way to sea.  So instead relaying recent kite excursions, I figured I would write about the many personalities of our kites.

First, a small and very not technical explanation of kite shapes.  Kites can basically be broken down into two types, Supported Leading Edge (SLE) and C shaped.  SLE's have the center lines of the kite (the ones directly attached to your harness) attached to some part of the front of the inflated leading edge of the kite.  C kites (named because of the way they are shaped) attach the lines to the front and the back of the wing tip.  It may not seem like much of a difference, but it creates a whole different flying experience.  C kites are considered to be more dangerous because they do not have the capability of depowering as much as an SLE kite.  Those SLE attachment points allow you to choose how much of the canopy you want exposed to the wind, so if you are really over powered, letting out the bar and essentially flattening out the kite will give you some relief.  C kites, however, are more responsive.  Imagine you want to control Pippi Longstocking's head.  You'll do a much better job if you grab her braids and yard on them rather than palming her forehead.  Terrible analogy, but you get the picture.

Between the two of us, we have 8 different kites from 6 different manufacturers, and they all fly very differently from one another.  Some of them have obvious differences in their size and shape, but even the ones that have many similarities are still unique.  It's important to get to know your kites on an intimate level and fly them how they choose to be flown.  Imposing your will upon a kite generally does not work.  Over the last few months, our kites have taken on their own lives in my mind.  They are as follows:

The Poodle - My Liquid Force 8M Havoc.  This guy needs constant attention, take your eyes off it for one second and it will run away from you.  It is a hyper kite with a lot of energy that can often get the best of you.

The Bully - Wilbur's Naish 9m Bolt.  This thing will push you around and beat you silly if you let it.  Perhaps the trick is to stand up to it and show it who's boss.  Neither Wilbur nor I have been successful in this.

Wilbur in a moment of triumph in St. Lucia

The Bad Boy - Wilbur's 9m Best Yarga.  This is a straight up C kite.  It's suave, will sweep you off your feet, and then beat you up MMA style.  All day long.

Ok.  We know it is unsafe to fly a kite in a soccer field, but this was when we lived in landlocked Denver and were desperate.  

The Gentleman - My 10m Cabrinha Crossbow.  It doesn't move fast.  It takes it's time to make decisions.  If you feel it is pressuring you, it will back off instantly.  Only problem is that sometimes, you want the bad boy, right?

The Fred Astaire - Wilbur's 12m  Slingshot RPM.  This kite is like the perfect dance partner.  It's always right where you want it to be and if it falls down, it is quick to get back up.  All with a lilt in its step and a twinkle in its eye.

The Racehorse - My 13m Slingshot Octane.  It just wants to prove itself.  It wants to show off, go fast and sometimes through you off it's back.  My favorite kite, by far.  I love the days I get to fly it.

The Vertically Challenged - Wilbur's 13m EH Ovando.  This thing is so ungainly, it's favorite trick is to invert itself and fly backwards.  Almost impossible to keep airborne unless the wind is so strong that it's too frightening to fly it anyway.  My least favorite kite.

Not much riding happened this day

The Mule - Wilbur's 17m Slingshot Fuel.  This is a big C kite.  Frustratingly stubborn.  Takes direction reluctantly, but once it gets going, it'll pull with the strength of a train engine and take just as long to slow down.

Hands down, Slingshot wins as my favorite kite manufacturer.  My only wish is that the depower strap was located the same as Cabrinha, it is so much more convenient.  

I will leave you with a final picture of me on the Big Wave Day taken by an actual photographer.  *gasp*

How did you guys get here?  Jeez...

Heaven's address is Ocean and 18th

Sunday had all the ingredients for a disastrous recipe.  High tide was at 6pm.  On weekends, Huguenot bans access to the park 2 hours before high tide and 1 hour afterwards in order to ease the vehicular crowding on the beach.  This is actually somewhat serious.  Depending on how many people are on the beach and how high the tide is, you may not be able to get out of the park on time.  If you are in the park after 8pm, you are fined for trespassing.  The increased traffic due to the birdie closures coupled with the complications of high tide encouraged us to continue our search for another suitable area.

Anyone that knows us knows that we are picky.  Like, Goldilocks and the Three Bears picky.  We first went to Jax Beach.  There was actually someone kiting there on what looked like a 19m foil, which in my opinion means you are damn good.  You can't drop a foil kite in the water and expect things to end well.  Not only was I now thinking that the conditions must be for advanced kiters only, the beach was extremely crowded with many people swimming in the surf, so no go.  From there, we drove all the way down to Vilano Beach only to witness the same scene but with many more surfers.  This started to worry me. I had made myself a rule that if the waves were big enough to draw the surfers out, I had no business getting in the water.  We decided to head back north and check out some Ponte Vedra Beach access areas.  No bueno.  With the encrouaching high tide, there was very little beach to work with, and again, too many people fishing, surfing and cavorting in general.  It looked like our day was going to be spent in the car instead of on the water.

We finally decided to try Atlantic Beach again but, heeding the suggestion of our kiting buddy, we went to the 18th street access instead.  This area of the beach was just right, as in total Baby Bear right.  It was graciously wide, even at high tide.  There were fewer people, which probably had more to do with the fact that it was about 5:30 when we got there.  But still, less people romping in the surf means safer conditions for me so I don't give a ding-dong as to the reason behind it.  There was only one problem.  Waves.  Big waves.

I now understand that what I used to consider waves were really just annoying, lazy slaps in the face.  These waves weren't kidding around.  Wilbur guessed that they were consistently around 4-5 feet with some 6 footers thrown in.  And while this is all fine and dandy for the surfers, for me it meant I had to ride through these rolling barriers to get out to calmer waters.  I was so scared at first, I decided that today was not my day to kite.  But of course, as soon as I saw Wilbur succeed in breaking through the waves, the desire to kite was overwhelming and I decided to merely fly the kite while standing in the shore break and see how I felt.

I felt miserable.  If a breaking wave didn't threaten to knock me over, an oncoming wave was trying to suck me off of my feet.  It didn't take long for me to figure out that I would be much better off riding on top of this mess rather than trying to fight it.  Wilbur got my board for me, and as soon as the latest set had died down, I leaned back and got my board on my feet.  The change in mind set was instantaneous.  Suddenly, I was in a position I was comfortable and familiar with.  I almost unconsciously dove my kite and started to ride.

But as soon as I saw the huge breaker that all the surfers were gunning for, I backed off and high tailed it in the other direction.

Abort the mission!

I repeated this a few times, getting closer and closer to the 'big one'.  Finally, I got too close to be able to abort, and seeing that the wave was going to break right before I got to it, I decided to charge through the less powerful white water.  I made it through without incident.  Of course, by the time I was able to claim victory, I was so far downwind that it was time to head back in.

Success!

This posed a new problem.  All of the sudden, the 'big one' looked an awful lot scarier from behind.  If I timed it just right (or wrong, rather), it looked liked I would be flying off the back of a water ramp with a 5 foot drop off on the other side.  But I had to get back to shore some way or another, so I charged for it.  I got lucky and made it through before the wave broke, but then it broke right behind me.  There is no feeling in the world like hearing a sizable wave break behind you and seeing the white water rushing at you.  I did my best to pick up speed and stay ahead of it.  Luckily, the wave actually helped me as well by propelling me faster, and I cruised into shore almost looking like I knew what I was doing.  My first foray at our new location ended with me, my board and my kite in one piece.  Total success.

Not only did we have an eventful and amazing day, we are relieved to have an alternate place to kite now.  Huguenot will always be my first love, but it's hard to beat not having a curfew and not having a scary rocky inlet looming and waiting to eat you and your kite if you screw up.  Plus, the Atlantic Beach neighborhood is very charming and the beach access has showers to aid in sand management (we have been perplexed at how to reduce the amount of sand we now track everywhere).  Now if the wind would just blow and the smoke from the nearby wildfires would dissipate, my life would be a fairy tale.

Please enjoy some more pictures from the day.

Wilbur assesses the situation

Wilbur always makes it look easy

Pretty sure I could never do this.

 

Bird season

Apparently, my wind indicators (see previous post) have been getting their Barry White on.  The north end of Huguenot beach has been shut down to vehicular traffic in order to protect the baby birdies that will be erupting soon on the beach.  And while I'm all for giving the new families a safe haven, it means no kites are allowed on a large section of the beach.  This section also happens to be the best place to build your kite and ride.  But since the Florida Audobon Society would apparently very much like to shut down all of Huguenot and leave it for the birds, we decided we would rejoice in the coming of new life and try to find a suitable kiting area elsewhere.

In all honesty, we may have made a mistake coming to Jax.  Only because we are now spoiled.  Huguenot has proved to be a most exceptional kiting beach.  You can drive right on the beach.  There is a large area on the north end where cars aren't allowed so you can be relatively safe in laying out your lines without having someone drive over them and wrapping them around their axles.  Since your car is nearby, you can lock all your belongings up safely.  Depending on the wind direction and tide, you can ride flat water or waves.  You can see, Huguenot has a lot going for it.  But today, we tried Atlantic Beach.  Hmm.

We left pretty late for the beach, about 6:00pm, so parking was pretty easy.  But since we couldn't see the beach from the road, we had no idea if the access point we picked would be crowded or not.  We got lucky since most beach goers were packing up and leaving as we were coming.  We quickly rigged Wilbur's kite up and launched it with no problems amid joggers, dogs and small children that would possibly not survive a kite crashing on to their heads.  Unfortunately, there was not really enough wind for Wilbur to be able to ride, so he slogged for a while and then called it quits.  But our voyage was fruitful nonetheless.  We discovered that the ground swell was stronger at Atlantic Beach (at least it was today), so light wind riding proved more difficult.  Having to pack our kites and other paraphernalia and hike them to the beach was not bad, but the thought of having to leave personal belongings on the beach still doesn't sit well with us.  And the leash law does not seem to be upheld at Atlantic Beach which means there will be opportunities for very sharp little doggy claws to puncture your mucho expensive kite.  Overall, Huguenot still wins by a country mile, birdie closures or not.

Wilbur trying hard to go somewhere.

Wilbur is flying a 17m C shaped Slingshot kite.  It is, in a word, big.  I abhor having to launch this for him.  

View of Jax Beach from Atlantic Beach.

Seaweed.  Everywhere.  

This lady looked so classy, I had to take her picture.

This is my dream house.  Really, can you believe this exists?  

I am very excited to see the new little birdies and begin educating them on how indicate the wind properly for me.  Until then, we will continue to kite in our most beloved place and give our birdies a wide berth.

I see by your outfit that you are a kitesurfer

So much has happened in the past four days that it would be impossible to fully recount it all.  For whatever reason, the winds decided to pick up and blow.  And I mean consistent, not really gusty, and just perfect - about 15 on the low end and 25 on the high end.  These awesome winds have given me the chance to progress like crazy.

I have now had four days of being independent in a row.  When I say independent, I mean that Wilbur has not had to shadow my progress from the beach and come save me every 15 minutes or so.  I can't describe how wonderful it is to not feel like a burden to anyone.  That being said...

On Sunday, I'm not even sure what happened, but I dropped my kite in the water.  I almost had it launched again, but a rogue wave nailed it and tacoed it all up in one big mess.  I was pretty much screwed.  Without even sending out a distress call, a much superior kiter came out of nowhere, straightened out my kite, and helped me launch it again.  For those who do not kite, I just can't describe the relief I had to be receiving help and there is no way for me to describe how difficult that must have been.  This guy was still attached to his kite, had his surfboard to keep under control, and managed to look like helping me was as casual as a Sunday walk.  I aspire to be that good someday and repay the favor to another kiter.

The progress I have made is insane to me.  Most people I know tell me, "It will just click, one day you'll just get it."  I couldn't disagree more strongly, and I envy those that experience this magical click.  The way I learn is not that easy, it is more Pavlovian.  So after much trial and severe error, I can now:
1.  Water start in about 2 inches of water.  This is huge.  No more getting pounded by shore break because I have to walk so far out to start.
2.  Stay upwind (if there's enough wind, at least).  The felicity of not having to exit the water, walk 300 yards upwind and repeat is extraordinary.  I was never into slip'n'slides as a child and the feeling certainly hasn't changed in the past 30 years.
3.  I LOVE riding over the waves.  I used to be scared of them, but now I keep an eye out and gun for them.
4.  I have developed an instinctual rhythm for power stroking my kite in low winds.  This is huge, and I may never forget the first time I realized that you can get just as much pull from sending the kite up as you can from diving it.
5.  I look where I'm going, not at the kite.
6.  I have now kited solidly in a pack of 10+ kiters for 3 days.  This is nuts to me.  I have always been petrified to kite around anyone else.  You have so much to think about since you have a power kite attached to you on 25 meter lines.  But I've gotten used to the rules of the road (anyone on a close tack has the right of way, if you are upwind you should fly your kite higher), and have done a good job of staying out of everyone's way.

No pictures for now, we've been too busy kiting.  Hopefully more soon.

Down and Counting

 Spasm!  Spasm!  (I loved the movie French Kiss).

I started to have the same lower back pain last week that has been plaguing me for years,  but since it has always gone away without me having to rest it, I ignored it like I usually do.  Sunday was the first day that I became aware that something might be very wrong.  When getting out of bed took the 'try hard' of sending a V6, I was certain that this injury was beyond anything I had ever done.  So I really really rested on Monday and was perfectly bored and miserable.  I awoke Tuesday and my back had not made much progress, but there was a problem.  The wind was forecast for 17-19mph out of the south.  On top of that,  it was going to be low tide after work which usually means less waves to deal with.  It was too perfect for me to just sit back and do nothing!

Wilbur and I packed up the truck and arrived at Huguenot to the sight of several festive colored kites over the water.  At this point, I know people's kites as well as their faces, and sometimes I recognize the kite better.  I could already tell who was out and I knew it was a fun crew.  The conditions were perfect at the beach and there were hardly any tourists.  Wilbur quickly pumped up his kite and got going while I tried to console myself by knowing that this certainly wasn't going to be the last day the wind ever blew at Huguenot.  I sat and took pictures and watched everyone having an amazing time until I almost started to cry.  The ache to kite was too overwhelming.  I finally hobbled over, got my kite out and proceeded to pump my kite up with one hand, which was all I could manage through the pain in my back.

Thankfully, Wilbur saw what I was doing and came back in.  To yell at me.  He said my back was too screwed up, the waves were too big, the gusts were too strong, blah blah blah.  When he realized that nothing was going to stop me, he took over pumping my kite while I took forever getting ready (it really is amazing how slow things go when you can't bend over).  I finally got all hooked in and launched my kite.  The pain was there, but as soon as I got my kite in the air, I stopped thinking about anything but staying safe.  As I was heading out to the water with my board, it didn't take long for me to realize I had a problem.  I had been unable to sit down on a chair without pain for three days, how was I going to sit in the water and get the board on?  All I can say is that it is amazing what you can accomplish when you put your mind to it.  Honestly, I didn't even feel any pain.  I just sat down, popped the board on my feet and went.  My back didn't even utter a twinge.  I did a couple of runs in the shore break, walked back upwind and did a few more.  After that, I lowered my kite to Wilbur thinking I shouldn't push my luck.  During that time of kiting and for several hours afterward, I felt almost normal.

It has now been almost two weeks and while my back is better, it is no where near being healed.  I have ceased to walk normally and have adopted what I can only describe as a western-style saunter.  I've been playing tennis, but it has been a joke.  Wilbur is a doll to put up with it.  I can't run, so if the ball is more than three steps away I just watch it go by.  However, some good is coming out of this.  I have finally learned how to hit a one handed slice backhand since it takes a lot less effort than my two handed backhand.  And I am finally learning that since I have knees, I might as well bend them since it takes a lot of pressure off of my back.  There's always a silver lining.

The wind is forecast for 17 mph tomorrow, hopefully kiting will have the same effect it did last week and heal my back altogether.

Please enjoy some more random photos.

Who's a tugboat?

If anyone knows what these flowers are, please tell me.  When I'm near them I can't focus on anything but how beautiful they are.

Paul teaches lessons at the beach.  He is very, very good.

I think this little fella is a plover.  Who's a plover?

Wilbur taking it out, 

and bringing it home.

Stan the Lithuanian Man

Since I started kiting, I have met a diverse collection of people that I would never have met otherwise.  There's been Surfer Mike, the author of one of my most favorite quotes: "A jump without a board grab is like a burrito without a tortilla, there's nothing holding it together."  Nebraska Bob drove around the the beach at Lake Mac on a sweet tractor.  South Padre Phillip held me between his knees while I tried to get the board on for the first time (embarrassing).  Wilbur took his first lessons from Estonian Surphie, a lady that yelled unintelligible gibberish at him for three days.  St. Lucia Beth, kitesurf instructor and Laser sailor, is possibly the coolest chick on the planet.  And now I have met Stan the Lithuanian Man (I accidentally called him Romanian and was told he would need a big, bushy black beard,  Popeye forearms and randomly say things like "AAAARGGGGH" to be Romanian.  I obviously don't travel enough).  Stan drives a semi and has a 'whooman' in the Chicago area that will hopefully be visiting soon.  He is also a great kiter, and his energy and love for life is infectious.

If the wind is not blowing, just talking to Stan makes your trip to the beach worth your while.  And when the wind is blowing, he is always there to help and lets me know that he'll be keeping an eye on me to make sure I'm safe (Wilbur is always attentive, but boy oh boy is it nice to know someone else has your six as well).

It is always comforting to hear other kiter's war stories about what they went through while learning to kite.  On one of Stan's first days, he lost his board, so his buddy let him borrow his.  Stan wound up losing that one too and found himself in the hole for two boards.  Another great story deals with yet another day in which he lost his board.  Not wanting to have to buy a third board in such a short time, he spent 40 minutes body dragging to get his board back.  That is a long time to be out body dragging and getting frustrated while watching your board serenely travel farther away from you.  Once he got back to shore with board in hand, he was very tired and not thinking correctly.  Stan proceeded to unhook his harness with his kite still attached to it.  Imagine it, he had just got his board back and then quickly jettisoned the rest of his precious cargo and it went flying towards a large bridge.  Stan's errant kite didn't make a great escape that day, some tourists saw what was happening, got in their car and retrieved his kite for him.

I have yet to have a real epic, but I know it is coming in some shape or form.  Every time I go out, I assess the wind and it's direction, the tides and the current, and I make Wilbur go over my options for what to do if I get into to trouble.  But I don't want to get to the point that I am so obsessed about how to avoid trouble that I stop having fun.  Having Stan share his experiences with me and hearing him laugh about it somehow calms my anxiety.  And it's always good to know you have someone looking out for you.

Stan told me that learning to jump was like learning the basic of a dance, like tango.  

Stan retrieving a float board that one of the kids lost.  Aww!

Stan told me he finds it inspirational to see a whooman kiting.    That made me smile.

Stan and Wilbur riding

I'll leave you with one of Stan's jokes:

A pirate walks into a bar.  The bartender hasn't seen him in a long time and asks, "What's with the wooden leg?" The pirate answers, "I got hit by a cannonball and it took my leg clean off."  Then the bartender asks, "What happened to your hand?"  The pirate answered, "It got sliced off in a sword fight, so the doc replaced it with this hook."  The bartender finally asked, "Well, why do you have a patch over your eye?"  The pirate answered, "Well, there were a bunch of birds flying over the ship, and I looked up and one crapped in my eye."  The bartender said, "You can't lose your eye just from a bird crapping in it!"  The pirate answered, "It was my first day with the hook."