This Monday ranks somewhere in the top 10 of my all time days on the water; my lil' sis got home Sunday night, telling me that she'd been sailing every single day last week. How sick is that? The most important aspect of my own windsurfing right now, is her progression. It's so awesome to see how a person can pick up so much, in such a vastly technical and difficult sport, so fast. What a feeling.
I got up fucking early Monday morning, making a full load of sandwiches and some food to keep us on top of our games all day. The forecasts were incredibly good, with a big chance of bluebird and the best wind direction for the notorious Shitbay - NW. Pin-point accuracy. We got it all. Ellen got up screaming "we gotta go!", and I just loaded the car and in a few moments our stuff was rigged and ready down in the Hood. 5.3, full power.
I used my extremely fast rash-guard once again. I'll be damned if that killer color isn't making me sail faster... Nonetheless, it's not warm. I can destroy a picture, yes, but when the sole purpose is to generate - or at lest maintain - some warmth, it's not that useful. I've said it before and I'll say it again: It's all about the wet suit. It's the difference between pro or no.
OK, I'll get to the point: Konstantin was out when we got down, and he's progressing a lot with his spocks, it's really close now. Ellen and I just ripped side by side down into the bay of shit, and I threw some ordinary moves, like I always do at the start of a session. Grubby, Spock, Flaka, Puneta, E-slider, Switch-Chachoo. It's important to keep training those essential variations, even though you've done 'em a thousand times. But then I got the feeling I've been struggling with for a while new. That "you gotta learn something new, something sick, just go crash 'till you stomp it clean" feeling. Said and done, with the perfectly powered 5.3 in my hands, the inspiration of Ellen bouncing all around the bay popping her board for the first times, and the sweet flat water that allows you to go so, so close to the shore (or beach, if you like (5 square meters)), it was about time.
The sail just seemed to go in the right place every time I threw it, which is one of those things you can just go crazy out of your mind on. It requires such precision to get it where you want it. But, when you get it there the moves get really sick. The first time I got it perfect I just put one hand on the boom and popped 180, spinning really slow, but all the way, 540. The Bob, finally! I went crazy for it, and just tried a lot of different techniques; going upwind, going downwind, throwing flat, throwing close to me. After a while I managed to find the perfect combination of it all, and landed another one, one which remained one-handed for a long while, though not all the way.
MiniCalle got out as well, nailing some crazy Cana Bravas - with big style. Ellen made her first duck-jibe, after three tries. Everybody seems to be stepping up their games right now.
After 3 hours of sailing, it was soon time to go home for work, but before that I wanted to really go big. I landed a third Bob, making it even cleaner than before, though not yet perfect. Then it was nothing but Zone-time, like I got stuck in it. Powered one-handed Switch-Chachoos going Starboard, full power Bobs going Port. The last attempt was the sickest; I went for a really up-windy duck, carving at the same time, and got the sail in the right place, popped hard and high, got the slide. 540, planing. Claim.