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.
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