I gave away my freedom. I'm talking about all my windsurfers and windsurfing equipment. I gave it away to a group of kids that are less fortunate than me. At least the gear will see the water again.
It sounds kind of silly, but giving up my windsurfing equipment is like giving away my freedom. I used to really be into windsurfing. And I'm not talking about your leisurely cruise around the bay. I'm talking about flat out full on adrenaline pumping 25 knot + windsurfing. It was kind of like riding a jet ski full out. It was fast and it was fun. I guess I was obsessed with it. Whenever it got windy, you know, 20 knots or more, I would drop everything and head out to the bay. It's hard to describe to someone who doesn't windsurf. I guess it's kind of a zen moment. You're basically in the moment.
I remember one time, I was tucked in behind a sandbar. The wind was coming over the sandbar and the water I was on was like glass. I was going really fast, but when you're going faster than the wind, you can hear everything. It's bizarre. It's like being in a hot air balloon. You hear sounds from far away. The only sounds you hear are from far away and the back end of your board splashing. Maybe your butt as it hits the water.
If you were to stop sailing and go up on to the beach, the wind would be howling. You can hardly hear anything but the wind as it races across the beach. The windsurfing sails "when they're all tightened up" are like wings. You end up going faster than the wind because the sail creates lift forward. You use your body weight in a harness to pull the sail back against the wind. It's all a little tricky, but once you get dialed in, you go real fast.
Oh man, this one time, I was windsurfing in Florida, you know, around the keys. My friend who owns a resort down there got a hound fish right through his knee. The hound fish is like a mini swordfish. His long beak skewered his knee. I saw him at the hospital. He was in bad shape. But his nickname from then on is Mr. Surf and Turf.
I could go on and on with stories like Hawaii, Australia, Noumia. Lots of different places. The point is, it was a form of escape for me. I'll miss it. Now my form of escape is staring at trees. I guess I'm getting old. Oh, wait, maybe I have a brain injury. Anyway, I'll talk to you guys next week.
Love, B. Nice
P.S. Check out my other blog where I talk about the present.
