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hamptonw Member Member#: 7315 Location: Registered: 22-01-2008 Diary Entries: 61 |
7th July 2009 Windsurfing: Camber Sands Wind Direction: SW'ly Wind Stength: F7-8 Surf / Sea State: Big Waves Air Temperature: 25 Sea Temperature: 18 Weather: Wild Max Speed: Distance Covered: Yesterday was another breakthrough day for me. I had an awesome session down at Camber, despite getting an absolute kicking at times, and having one very scary experience. The breakthrough was being able to punch out through the endless whitewater and get out the back at Camber on a properly windy and wavy day, without too much trouble. When I launched at 4pm I was well powered on my 4.7, but gradually the wind built and I changed down to my 4.2 with maximum downhaul - the smallest I have, but still too big. I was stacked, but the power was handy for punching through waves and jumping. Once out the back, it felt a little surreal, with big mounds of water moving around, and rogue breaking waves - but an eerie silence too. Coming back in was a blast, hurtling down the faces of waves and outrunning walls of pounding whitewater. I finally felt like I had made the transition to being a proper Camber sailor rather than watching from the sidelines, although I realise this is just the start of the journey. I had a close shave early on in the session with the nightmare of a wrecked trawler which is exposed at low tide, and looks for all the world like the jaws of death. I bailed very near it, and only just managed to waterstart away before being washed onto it. That spooked me. After a couple of hours, I was feeling absolutely knackered, especially as I hadn't eaten much that day in my rush to get to the beach. So I came in for a break and a chat with Grawp, whose kiting lesson was coming to an end. I convinced him to come out for another sail (not that he needed much persuading), but by the time he'd rigged, and I had sailed a bit more and taken another beating, I was even more knackered. Nevertheless, having told him he should come for a sail, I couldn't sit on the beach and watch, and so went for "one last run". Bad move! I headed out the back once again, and made it out no problem, but for some inexplicable reason just bailed when I was quite a way out. Not normally a problem, but this time my kit blew away from me, and started heading down wind (it was pretty cross shore) at a serious rate of knots - much faster than I could swim. So my kit was gone, and I was facing along swim in, with a strong rip running, and I was very close to the wreck again. I soon realised that if I tried to swim straight for shore, I would end up getting dragged onto the wreck by the rip, so I had to swim around the outside of it and with the rip along the shore. It was an exhausting and long swim in, and I had absolutely no energy left in the tank. At times I didn't think I was going to be able to make it, and I was seriously worried. My rate of progress was painfully slow. By the time I finally came ashore, after taking numerous waves on the head and swallowing lots of water, I was over a mile downwind of where I started, and sand under the feet had never felt so good! In the murky distance my kit was another mile away downwind near the firing range. So, I trudged down the beach, utterly exhausted, to rescue my kit. By the time I got there, a kindly angler was retrieving my kit from the shallows, and being beaten up by it in the process as it flailed around in the wind (with a fresh hole having been ripped in the sail). After thanking him, I began walking back up the beach against the howling wind with all my gear. there was no way I was going to be able to walk 2 miles with it, so I got as far as the nearest bit of road at the top of a shingle bank, and left it there. I then hiked back to the car, got changed and drove back to pick my gear up with assistance from Grawp. We then headed to the pub, where a big plate of steak and chips felt like a little snack! I barely had the energy to drive home! |
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