Well, I don't know why I'm here. Well, I sort of do. A minor stint as a windsurfer, a longer stint as a sailor, and many years of snowboarding set me up to fail, as it were.
The internet is evil sometimes. I don't know where it came from, perhaps living in Santa Cruz and cycling past Waddel Creek so many times. Perhaps it was the business trip to Hood River (yes, I was there all of 8 hours) where I saw people out on the Gorge... It was probably just boredom combined with past memories of people who looked like they were having more fun than me.
Either way, I found myself looking at kites on the internet. Not just kites. My brother-in-law is into stunt kites. All pretty and aerobatic and such. This was kite porn. People doing unspeakable things in the air while attached to a kite. People looking like they were having too much fun. "I gotta get me some of that," I said to myself. These kites could *hurt somebody*. That's where sports start and hobbies stop. I was definitely interested.
...and so it came to pass that I picked up a 4 square meter Slingshot just after Christmas. A brief test flight in light but gusty winds (there's another kind in Minnesota?) had me hooked...
Which brings me to my latest adventure. Background: Snowboarder for 17 years. Militantly anti-skiing. Bought my first set of skis in order to bite into the ice on White Bear Lake about a month ago when it was clear that a single edge would be suicide. Or worse: near-death by bruising. Actually took the skis out to Afton Alps a couple of weeks ago and a) didn't kill myself b) kind of enjoyed it. I guess old dogs do learn new tricks.
I went kite-skiing tonight in the dark. I've worked out what this sport reminds me of: Polar Exploration. Well, not *just* polar exploration. Sailing, cos there's wind, and where it comes from is important. Throw in a good dose of Macrame, except you're not doing it... all your gear comes pre-tangled by the wind.
I spent about an hour kneeling on Lake McKusick (my closest lake, quite safe, if a little small) untangling crap and cursing. Gloves off, because of course you need the dexterity. The frostbite is just a bonus. What a sport. Once I got the kite sorted, though, it was a rush. Tried launching the kite without the skis on... get dragged, crash the kite, stomp my way back to the skis. Try to launch kite. Kite tangles. Get disgusted, untangle kite. Kite does endless loops. Figure out that kite isn't exactly untangled. Check kite and lines. Find nothing wrong. Smack forehead. Holding bar backwards, as have disconnected lines to do untangling job at kite, and have reconnected them backwards. Relaunch kite (with skis on this time.) Accidentally release skis while walking backward to launch kite. Reattach skis. Find that kite steers much better when starboard line connected to starboard hand. Execute broad reach, get close to shore. Turn around. Try to point. No go diggie die. Downwind through snowmobile tracks works pretty well, though. Scoot along, enjoying the sheer thrill of a free ride that I'm not powering myself and doesn't require internal combustion. Get tired, slog back, feeling that unmistakeable buzz of harnessing something far stronger than myself. I can only compare it to other natural phenomena that I've been lucky enough to tap into: surfing a wave, dropping into a hole in a kayak, snowboarding powder, and surfing a sailboat under a big spinnaker... Again, what a sport. If it was easy, everybody would be able to do it. There's something worth pursuing here.I just reread the whole post. It doesn't have a point, really, other than the fact that I'm thoroughly stoked (is it legal to say that in Minnesota?) that I was able to move myself with a kite today. Not as easily as on the ice from a couple of weeks ago, but enough to enjoy it thoroughly... and hey, it beats watching talking heads debate the appearance of parts of a pop-star's anatomy during the half-time show.
Now I've been looking at other kites. Bigger kites. I've gotta get me some of that.
James,
Stillwater.