Madagascar: Out of Time
The beauty of Madagascar violently dominates the viewer. The view here does not rest passively while you sit with toes in the sand and a Caipirinha in hand. The Malagasy wilderness consumes you. The waters of the Emerald Sea are a blue beyond the blues of Photoshop. Sailing through these sapphire seas feels fake and therefore dizzying. The black lava rock is so razor sharp that walking across is impossible without thick-soled shoes. The land is king and you are the view...
Read onCalifornia Dreaming
Everyone wants a sure thing. An easy bet. We windsurfers try to make forecasts our ace-in-the-sleeve, the weighted die. I check windguru on my computer; I check iWindsurf on my phone. In short: I want wind and waves; I don’t want to arrive at the beach to wait around. Waiting is for suckers. Waiting is for the people not cool enough for the bouncer to lift the red rope...
Read onMud rock and jaws
part 1Fear is a bruise. It pulls you to poke it. Scratch the scab off to see if it bleeds. Test the swollen (broken?) ankle. Can I walk? Is it actually broken? Vertigo is fear of heights, yes. But Vertigoers describe it as a fear that on the edge of the precipice their bodies will jump. Staring into the abyss is the scariest moment of all because of the compulsion to leap into the dark. Riding big waves is looking into the abyss and then jumping headfirst...
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part 2The climb down was harder than I expected. My feet slid on both dirt and rocks. At one moment, my mast began to slip free from the loosely bundled windsurfing gear and I had to hug the bundle tightly to my chest to stop the mast from sliding out from my arms and into the raging sea below...
Read onHelmets and Risk and Me
“Where’s the helmet?” That’s a question I’m asked a lot lately. Most ask it with a hint of hurt, as if windsurfing lost a role model in my decision to stop wearing a helmet all the time. In answering, I must meditate on death and on an injury to my face last summer. But don’t worry abo...
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