I met up with a bunch of crazy local expats a couple of weekends ago. We went upcountry a ways for a couple of days of chilled-out existence by the lagoon. And some kite-surfing.
This is Holger.
He’s kite-surfing.
For the record, I can’t do this.
In fact, I haven’t yet managed to get myself onto a board, although I am working on it. It’s proving to be a conglomeration of fun and frustration in equal measures- the rage-inducing complication of untangling steering lines from wayward bushes versus the absolute hoot of getting lifted clean out of the water while body-dragging. Hopefully another couple of lessons and I’ll be able to show off my ‘L’-plates with a little more pride.
It was a sweet weekend and I’ll tell you more about it presently. Photographically not so exciting though. Hard to do much shooting when you’re strapped into a large canvas wing trying very hard to launch itself into the lower reaches of the stratosphere. I have a good friend who is reasonably convinced that I am going to wrap myself around the turbine of a passing A380 if I keep this up.
Given past performance in things like this, he probably has a point.
(He still hasn’t forgiven me for driving an ice-ax into a brand-new climbing helmet halfway up a frozen waterfall a couple of years back…)
