Getting Our Feet Wet

     While we were still living in Colorado, Wilbur and I often speculated about what kite surfing was going to be like in Florida.  Even though Wilbur is far more advanced than I am, we are both very new to the sport and the east coast of Florida was definitely going to be foreign waters for us.  So we made up a short list of rules we were to follow in order to keep ourselves (and others near us) safe and sound.  They were as follows:

Rule #1 – Talk to the locals.  You always want to get the local beta for an area such as tide and current info, hazard info like sandbars or oyster shells or what access issues might occur (like migrating birds).  
Rule #2 – Never kite in the Atlantic Ocean.  Until we are more skilled, we decided it best to stick to bayside or river kiting.
Rule #3 – Never be the first or the last kiter in the water.

And while we truly did try to stay true to rule one (we called a shop but they apparently don’t open on Sundays.  Is that a Southern thing?), we flagrantly broke rules two  and three yesterday with wanton disregard for self preservation.

     It all had to do with the wind.  When we first got here nigh two weeks ago, the wind was deliciously blowing consistently out of the south east.  However, we could not enjoy the conditions because Wilbur had to work and I had to look for a place for us to live.  By the time we were able to don our gay apparel and venture out, the wind had switched directions and was coming straight out of the west.  No bueno for the east coast.  I looked at a map and determined that if I got blown straight off shore from Jacksonville, with a little luck, I might make landfall in Bermuda.  The chances are pretty slim though, so I’ll stick to avoiding a west wind.

     However, this week, the wind changed and with it our luck.  Monday afternoon brought 13-15 knots with a lovely SE cross onshore breeze at Huguenot Memorial Park, which is on the Atlantic Ocean.  Rule #2 – broken.  We loaded up and headed out with eager anticipation, feeling sure that other area kiters would be out to take advantage of such fortuitous winds during one of the worst wind months for the area.  We were wrong.

We had the beach to ourselves

     But everything seemed to be safe as long as we didn’t go too far out so…Rule #3 – broken.   We proceeded to set up on an empty beach at the apex of high tide and marveled at how much room there was.  The last time we set up to kite surf was on a beach in St. Lucia that was about the width of a gnat’s ass at low tide.  High tide meant you were trampling on the vegetation surrounding the beach which made me cringe for the poor defenseless plants.  So far, the local conditions were looking pretty durn good.

     Somehow, it was decided that I would go first.  I bravely charged into the water with the sole intent of body dragging, which is just dragging yourself through the water with your kite and not using the board at all.  However, my small scope of experience did not include kiting in an ocean with breaking waves tossing me all about and I soon swallowed enough water to make Charybdis jealous.  Defeated, I came back in and let Wilbur go out.

He had some trouble at the start.

But then…

He made it look easy.

     Easy enough that I was chomping at the bit to get back out with my board.  It didn’t go so well.  The waves tumbled and spun me so much that I could barely get the board on my feet.  On the few times that I actually did get set up, another wave would come through and spin me backwards.  Keep in mind that during all this confusion, I was attached to a kite that a fellow kiter once told me to regard as a constantly loaded weapon.  Plus, my right ear was filled to overflowing with water.  I tried to remember what I had learned in the past and the number one thing is not to panic.  This is supposed to be fun, right?  I soon settled down enough to realize that I could use the pull of the kite to brace myself against the oncoming waves, even if I wasn’t ready to water start.  Once I got that technique down, I was able to give some good attempts at water starting.  And while I was never successful, I learned some valuable lessons on kiting in the ocean.  Soon, I will be on top of the waves instead of slicing through them with my face.

I approached the waves fearlessly with confidence.

And spent the rest of my time making rooster tails with my face.

Wilbur hates cold water.  Full wetsuits make the water temp perfect.

I thought this little couple was so sweet and was sure that they were mates for life and  were a  perfect romantically sweet representation of Wilbur and I in the kingdom of animals…

…until I saw this.  How the hell are those two birds ever supposed to find each other in this mess?

Huge ships are constantly coming in and out of Mayport and I feel like applauding every time I see one.

In Colorado, you’d need a forest fire to get these kinds of colors.