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Kiting isn't nearly as hard or as terrifying as I thought.
We had docked the boat at another island, deserted this time, little more than a sand bar with a few palm trees. The boat, with its shallow hull, allowed us to get close to the beach to unload the kite equipment. Thanks to a few YouTube videos and Chris' explanation, I set up the kite myself and the whole thing no longer seems like an obscure ritual, available only to some few insiders.
But no amount of books can adequately prepare you for flying the real thing. It's big and volatile, and won't really do what you want it to do, no matter how much you will it to. I kept asking for cartesian parameters for something that is really more about muscle memory than anything else. Switching from a 5m on short lines to a 9m with regular lines helped to get above of the turbulences created by the island, and I eventually started feeling like I had some control over the kite rather that the opposite. Witch meant it was time to get into the water and start body dragging (Wow that term must sound odd to anyone not entirely familiar to kite surfing.) There were no catastrophic kite crash, and an hour and a half into the lesson, I could successfully body drag downwind and powerdrag toward port side and starboard. Being in the water effectively dealt with my fear of getting rugburned if the kite ever went too far into the power zone, with the disadvantage of a few waves hitting me right on the nose right at the same time the kite starts misbehaving. I the end nothing worse happened than a few cupfuls of water getting their way up my nose and the endeavor was overall quite successful.
We rode back with the boat through the mangroves to get back to the hotel, and found a crocodile hiding in the bottom of the water, pretending to be a log. We then proceeded to figure out how close the boat could get before it bolted, and the answer is pretty much in its face.
Marilou and Chris are adorable. Marilou, ex-kitesurfer champion and 4 and 1/2 month pregnant, sneaks out to go kiting when Chris isn't looking. Chris is her german life partner/fellow adventurer, and I'm not exactly sure how they ended up here, I will have to ask them. What I do know is that in exchange for the yoga classes Marilou teaches, and no doubt for all the business they bring for the place, they live on a small apartment next to the overheated branch of still seawater that houses the boat docks of the property. The place is, like everything here, not bothered with polishing or making itself nice and shiny and clean, but so much infused with a kind of raw beauty, existing within the world rather than against it.
I' m starting to realise, no matter how far I run, I'm still the same person, with the same worries and fears and hopes and misguided realities. I guess I'll just have to learn to live with them.
- comments
Ingrid Love you much. Xxx
Kiki Trop cool jee. Je t'aime et j'espere que tu est securitaire :)