Just got back from the Treasure Island Kite fest in FL. It's a great excuse to get the hell away from the Winter Blues for a lot of sport kite lovers.
It has this level, white, coral/shell sand that stays packed. I can't get my kite stake much more than 3" into the ground anywhere. The wider,
festival area, behind the Thunderbird Hotel, is no more than a 1/2 mile along the shore, The sand then narrows and gets softer at the ends, with
houses, trees, and protected dunes squeezing together.
I've been there 3 times now, but I missed last year. In '09, I got to see my first, real buggy setup and (tried to)
fly a 10.8 Reactor, all thanks to Angus. In '10, I'm sort'a buggy savy and have my most epic day ever there with the late, great AJ.
This year, I only saw Steve, (the fest's original co-founder), there with his Bigfoot that he didn't ride. He was too busy with the other events.
Steve loves TI for buggying, saying Wildwood has too many puddle for him! He said when the temperature is higher than the water, you can get a steady,
onshore breeze and can buggy for 7 miles along the beaches! His personal best of 50+mph was done there.
It was a little cold and gusty during the weekend, so I just hung out with some of the SLK and sport kite types I knew. There was a huge, appreciative
crowd for the Sunday ballet competitions: families, blankets, folding chairs, applause. The competitors were holding it down pretty well, considering
the crazy wind. It must be like the Olympics, you train all year in optimal conditions, then have to compete in unpredictable ones. An ultra-lite
buzzed the festival along the shore, annoying some there.
I only put up a long-tailed sled kite, and flew a little with fighter kite guys (I'm not a sport kite guy). One guy, Peter, was waking around with a
nifty KAP rig. He has been to JIBE twice, and prefers JI over TI. Another guy says he prefers St. Augustine over TI. But TI has been in my own best
memories, so far.
I'd set up stuff to buggy with, but the wind was uncharacteristically dirty and gusty - plus there was a crowd around. I'd pull out the P18, then go
back to get the P15 instead, then the P12...and so on. I managed a couple of short runs. People are curious, ask questions, get too close to my
frustrated launches. A couple of MILFy types, magaritas in hand, came over to ask me questions. One looked my gear over and asked
"Is that YOUR
name...Peter Lynn?" 
It hit mid-upper 70's after the weekend, but only a few kiters were still there by Tue.. And on my last afternoon there, it was quite calm - but
steady. I talk with an older, kitemaking couple putting up their big Ciroflexs. The Rev crew were loving the steadiness, even if they were only going
in slo-mo.
As if the earlier ultra-lite wasnt' enough, today's relative calm bring along a Fanman-type motorized parachute dude. Now, when I see one of these
guys take-off, I'm usually thinking to myself "He's livin' the dream!" But this time, I'm cursing loudly instead. From my perspective, he is coming
really low into the Circoflex groupings. Their hoop spines and radiant bridles with metal carabiners would mesh interesting with his motor fan! But I
don't want to be around to help clean up (or be asked to do CPR!)
I eventually set up my new Phanny 18, but there's not enough wind to really start to inflate it, so I left it laying out. Next up was my Secret
Weapon, the Bego 600. It tore off, but I still didn't have the touch to get myself really going with it the way I'd like.
So I pulled out the Reactor I 8.3. It just kept flopping the last few days, and I blamed my switched line set. But, upon closer inspection, I saw that
the sticky bridles had tangled. After a long sorting, it launches Cape Canaveral Style: a flat, unstoppable wall of predictable power. When the sun
hits them right, these are one PLs that look better from the flyer's view than the spectators, IMO. I was finally able to get going across the beach,
surprised at the easy upwind these monsters have. I think I even hear some distance applause from beach sitters who've been waiting to see me actually
do something with all this stuff all day!
My arms were getting stretched after just a few minutes, the wind has maybe picked up up just a notch. I was going to have to try out some of my new
strop and roller harness set ups.
And then, over my shoulder, I see the Phanny getting her puff on! The Reactor is quickly landed n' sanded then the Phanny is given voluntary,
powerline CPR. The wind was still so light that I could just drop the bar, and walk over and untwist an end that came loose from my nifty improvised
sandbags made from bright orange Publix market cloth sacks.
When it finally inflates and rises, it was magnificent. Now it, and my new Bigfoot, were starting to click: bar, brakes, edge, upwind, accelerate,
power spin, jibe...the best ever...and all in so very little wind. It's like they say: it's not the (wind) size that matters, it the consistency!
:smug:
I had the confidence to try the daunting northern track of the beach again: chairs, shades, people, dunes, narrow soft sand at hi-tide...I was making
good progress, diligently zagging along...
...that is, until I heard a familiar sound over my shoulder.
It's FanMan again.
And he's making a low beeline right at me and the Phanny.
He even appears to be smiling and gesturing.
Uh-uh, cowboy.
Not today.
I park and zenith near the water's edge and just let the fool pass north and play elsewhere. But as I see him make a slow turn towards me again, I
make a fast beam back to the main beach. There I have only have a single Rev to watch out for. I don't see FanMan again - maybe he got the message (or
needed gas).
I continue some leisurely upwind speed runs as the sun sets. It's seeping into a radiant Gulf sky over shimmering turquoise water and glowing white
sand. Everything here gets bleached-out in a dreamy way at this time of day. It attracts couples, stollers, drum circles, etc. I look at all the
scatted stuff I need to gather off the beach as the light dims. Like on my last epic day there two years ago, I want to just park the Phanny in the
air while I tend to other things.
My Ozone D harness has no pockets or loops, so I have some loose tie-wraps around it to hold extra stuff. This includes an extra, large carabiner with
a long loop of mesh tied on. With this, I can wrap and secure it around any post, tree or fence - or, in this case, one of the short utility poles in
the middle of the beach. I then tag-team relay my '07 CL from my harness's large carabiner to the anchored one. I use this method for launch assists
too.
Now, after only looking at a weaving, white rectangle all day, I can enjoy the same full view of the Phanny as everyone else. Night falls and it's
huge, looming stillness in the deep sky is surreal & half invisible. The barely moving black top lets the stars peek and hide in the sky, it's
white underbelly dimly reflecting the walkway lights.
Despite little sleep, on-the-run meals, and even a dog-bite (another LONG story)
I'm now feeling so energized that I think I can make the whole 17+ hr trip home in one dash. But I promised myself to do a two-legger back home.
So, what better place to stop than at a budget motel off Georgia Exit 29? The next cloudy, drizzly morning, I drive out to Jeckyll Island to see what
all the fuss is about. It just rained and it's maybe mid-tide by the shopping trailer parking spot. But I can still see the potential there and resist
pulling out and reassembling the Bigfoot (dang, should'a brought my MBS board too).
I make a pledge to myself that I will instead drive back down here in May!
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:ticking::megan:
