How does it start, again? Straight joy. Excitement, entertaining.
How does it end? Burnout from doing it too much. Frustration from lack of progression. Boredom from doing the same thing. Tiredness from dealing with repetitive injuries.
You keep going, until you can’t go anymore. Where was it?
I grew up at our Sail Shop in Hatteras NC, surrounded by kiters and windsurfers. I was the youngest of our grom squad. Morgan Skiperdene and Evan Netsch were crushing it, progressing to be sponsored kiters competing at a high level.
This was just past the era of two-line death buckets – inflatable kites with no depower or safety releases – which had an affinity for lengthy unintentional body drags to the shore or into hard objects. When four-line kites came, the kitemares slightly decreased. Looking back, we romanticized the dangers as proving grounds and focused on the good things: the community, local comps, bigger comps, a track to becoming “pro”, magazines, short edits, and full movies. There was a lot of excitement for the growth of the sport. There was a resounding feeling that kiting was going to hit the masses one day.
At that time, I couldn’t do a front-to-blind to save my life on my 2004 Cabrinha Blacktip, and I am not sure if I could now either. I was a chubby teen with kiting as my only outlet. I wasn’t catching many social cues and was awkward outside the shop setting. This is pretty standard for that age, but it made kiting feel really important. It was the only thing I enjoyed. Once I took it too seriously, however, the fun went away and my drive to kite left with it.
The fun came back with kiting strapless. We got a Nobile skimboard, just to fill a board order, and I found myself on it all the time. At first, nothing felt right or wrong when strapless kiting, just weird and different. Doing random things and constantly falling was so entertaining it made me kite all the time again. This left a lasting impression on me for the future.