Whisky and Sand Dunes

“We could just put rocks in your pockets. That would keep you from going too far”. I laughed. I don’t think anyone anticipates hearing an ominous remark such as this outside of a “sleeping with the fishes” type of Mafia flick, but here we were. As I learned, stuffing rocks into the pockets of your parka to keep the frigid winds whipping off the North Sea from taking small-bodied wind kiters on a short and violent trip across the wet sands of Findhorn’s beach, was a fairly common practice in my friend’s kiting adventures. It did have varying results, however.
Findhorn, Scotland is not the standard destination for an end of semester getaway. Most of my flatmates had left behind their exams and the drizzly London weather in favor of a week of booze and a chance at melanoma on the beaches of Spain. Two of my closest friends and I were in the mood for something more low key to rest our burned out minds. One friend offered up her family home so to Scotland we flew. The small, coastal town of Findhorn is easy to love. Stone cottages, dark forests, gorse-dotted sand dunes and whisky distilleries for kilometers. It soon felt like home away from home.
We spent one afternoon conquering the sand dunes. With the family dog at our sides we climbed and jumped; hay fever be damned. After we finished exorcising the sand from our clothes, our hostess gave us a crash course on wind kiting, “this is the wind window”. Take the kite straight up and it’s smooth sailing all around, but bring the kite down through a figure eight pattern and you’ll feel the wind’s power. I sure did. I felt it in my fingers where they throttled the handles. I felt it in my shoulders and elbows when they were pulled taught. And I felt it in my feet as they left the ground. I was flying. It was both exhilarating and mildly terrifying. I was weightless, but knew the ground was unforgiving. I would not stick this landing. Fortunately, my friends’ quick reflexes caught me before I got too far. Back safely on the beach, we laughed. And with both of their hands firmly twisted in my pockets, knees bent and braced against the wind, I nervously raised the kite again. This time as the wind tossed me and the kite around, my friends kept my feet safely on the ground. While the rocks provided some extra weight against the wind, they were certainly a poor substitute for a couple of good, strong friends.
Also, remember to keep your elbows in, otherwise said good, strong friends might not stick around for long.