A postcard from Mexico
4 hours ago
Grey day. I'm kiting out on the point with Alex and Brad, playing on the smooth, overhead ramps. Wind is N, straight sideshore, making for clean set waves with almost no chop. Beautiful waves!
It also makes for a nasty landing on the rock wall at Deer Island if something goes wrong on the outside. I glance at it occasionally, far off in the distance, lurking like a bad dream.
That thought is a cue for Brad's kite to go down. His DD is broken. He releases everything and swims in to the point. He's safe. I try to rescue his strapless surfboard, and also get to his kite which is drifting away, without much luck, or skill.
Then Alex's kite goes down. A bridle line broke. He doesn't reach the point before being pulled downwind. What the!?
For awhile we're all over the place. Brad and I are chasing gear that is scattered down the beach. Alex has wrapped up his lines and is swimming in on his kite. I lose my board near the beach and don't bother dragging for it because I'm rushing to reach Brad's kite before it gets munched in the shorebreak. We look like the 3 stooges. Can it get any worse?
Leo and I kite out to help Alex. Leo tries to bring Alex's kite in but it flips and blows out of his hands, towards the rocks. He brings in Alex's board and I pull Alex away from the wall. He was probably going to miss it anyway but I want to be sure. His kite lands in a tiny cove in the rock wall undamaged.
Everyone's fine! A heavy wet snow is coming down as we walk back to our vehicles. The waves out on the point look tiny from this distance.
We're philosophical about the day. Brad is pissed that his DD will cost $150 to replace. Alex says that he needed the self rescue practice. "It's a cold day for that", I say! Cold and slightly twisted. Sounds like a drink. One that only a Winter kiter would enjoy. And even then, only in moderation.
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