Gone with the Wind
It was in the fall of last year that I wanted to find something new and nourishing to do in my life, something in which I could be alone with nature and far away from the endless circles my mind can fabricate and spin around in. I always loved the ocean but just sitting at the beach
and staring at the masses of water leaves me bored or over melancholic. Swimming or boogie boarding did not attract me as even a one-foot wave creates images of tsunamis inside of me, eliciting an out of proportion panic that makes me look rather ridiculous in my own mind and in front of anyone else with common sense.
At the time my friend Kit from Boston was visiting, an enthusiastic windsurf beginner. She would proudly keep me informed of the progress she was making in fact every time I met with her, as she seemed to be caught by that same fever which I had already noticed befall another friend of mine. It appears that when the wind is blowing right, a certain obliviousness to the rest of their life becomes a prominent feature of people getting involved with this sport. The morning before she left I took the big decision. It is time for an adventure in my life!
I took the first lessons for beginners, which means you sail out on a huge, unsinkable board in a protected area close to the harbor. Oh, I loved it already. It was easy to stand on this mighty floating board and the joy of gently sailing with the warm breeze of the morning wind
was just delightful. The sky was blue, the sun hot, the water turquoise and refreshing during the rare times I fell in. And it was true what I had observed in Kit and others! My mind became
silent. I forgot about the rest of my life and felt nourished, full of energy and livened with a new sense of freedom. Everything inside said YES.
My beloved friend Ettore helped me to buy used beginner equipment for a good price. I called up the windsurf teacher Kit had raved about all the time for good reasons and was set. Now the real thing was about to start. Going out in the afternoon when the wind picks up with a much smaller board! Waterstarting seemed manageable with the teacher there. Half of his job was to teach me, the other half, which he did really well, to get me at ease with feeling like an idiot. Then came the time to practice on my own, which also meant to "schlepp" the board and the sail into the water by myself. On days with strong winds I did not know whether I came to windsurf or paraglide launch pad Kanaha Beach Park, destination Haleakala. I learned fast that he power of the wind is just far beyond my own physical strength.
There is no way to fight it. It needs understanding, sensitivity and some experience to not only yield but actually make use of it, let it help me, even while carrying the heavy board or the sail.
When practicality started to take the place of beginning enthusiasm other considerations began to surface. Gee! At my age to be out in the sun and the salt water for hours at a time. Will my face be wrinkled up like a prune in just a few weeks? Looking at other women of about my
own age out there I found them looking rather wonderful and healthy and I could not find any worrisome signs of premature aging. Still, better safe than sorry, and I went out to equip myself with super sunscreen and dynamic looking sunglasses which cover nearly the whole upper part of my face, plus a baseball cap which provides shade. If you think you have not seen me out there, it is simply because you can’t recognize me! I am looking cool and experienced! 
That is something that still embarrasses me as, in reality, I seem to be an extremely slow learner and all kinds of absurd things keep happening to me.
For example, it was a mystery to me how the mast kept falling in my direction and ended up hitting my head. The gustier the wind the harder it hit! One day it happened to me three times in a row! The first time I found myself with a shock under water, grateful that I am still alive because it was a bad hit, fantasizing about the headlines in the next day’s newspaper:
"WINDSURFER DROWNED 6 FEET OFF SHORE."
But I am not a "sissy", so I gathered myself and there I was once more, lifting the sail into the wind. Then it happened again, just ten minutes later. Now I got pissed off! I was angry, not knowing though whom or what to direct my anger towards. Frustrated but with determination I continued my practice. After ten minutes there it came again. Bammmm! Straight knock to the head. This time I did not waste a minute feeling uselessly angry. I left the waters with my nose up into the air and felt deeply hurt over the offense, hoping that some part of existence would register my silent protest. After that afternoon the guys in the local jail, which was the place I worked, offered me protection as they did not buy my story that all the bruises on my face and arms came from my first solo wind surfing attempts. "You just give us a name . . . . . ." I felt misunderstood but deeply cared for.
Where am I with it now, one year later? I mastered the waterstart going out hurrah! I experience the thrill of being taken by the wind and sailing over the waters in this magnificent beauty of the Maui ocean. My mind seems not to exist then and I feel free, happy and contented. There is still one obstacle though. I can only waterstart in one direction going out! My body has not a clue yet how to reverse the movements in order to get back in, to reach the beach where I came from. As a result, I sail out having a blast and then, before I get too far, I throw the sail and myself into the water and the work begins. I turn the board around, the sail around and practice starting up in the other direction. My successes at getting up are minimal or non-existent as yet. So the current and I share the work of getting me back to shore. I call it "swimming with equipment."
At times it still worries me that I am not yet out there in the big waves, jumping and impressing with fancy loops. But frankly, every time I go out on the water, I give myself credit for just showing up.
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