Wednesday, May 25, 2011

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.

Monday, May 9, 2011

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.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

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."