|Far away from polluted cold Long Beach|
I hovered above the crystal clear green water, my face only a few inches from the surface, fingers dragging happily on the smooth surface. Below me corals and fish flew by, further out small wind waves crashed against the low-tide reef. The water inside the reef was calm and I was kiting alone in a stunning bay, with limestone rocks jutting out from the seafloor, the white sand beach in the distance fringed with palms and the bungalows of the kiting schools. The wind had blown all day, and the rest of the kiters were resting and waiting for their evening session when the wind would pick up even stronger.
|strong wind, flat water|
The wind picked up and soon the other kiters roused from their afternoon slumber to join me on the water. The tide dropped further and the water was only an inch or two deep in many places, glassy as melted butter on a hotplate. I was overpowered and when I boosted I hung in the air for long seconds ... In the air the view expanded to the palm tops and the little mountain that formed the north end of the bay. Its a thing that perhaps only kiters and parasailors experience, but for some weird reason the higher you are the further down in the water you can see. And on these big floaty boosts I could see the blue-green seafloor as clear as if I was diving on the bottom.
The sun began to set, the kiters began to come in. Reluctantly, I joined them. It had happened to me again, as it so often does when you travel. It was another Perfect Day.