Monday, April 17: Ray Hubbard Lake

Ray Hubbard Lake, in Dallas, was a reminder that the need to kite will generally outmatch self-preservation and common sense. Most people would take one look at Ray Hubbard Lake and say, "Gee, nice lake, too bad there’s no way to get in it without killing yourself." I still get a little sick when I picture myself launching my kite on the little grass area next to the parking lot, with the huge tree just upwind of the launch making the wind flukey and unpredictable, then walking over huge rocks to get in the water.

Eventually we figured out how to negotiate these parts and got in the water for some surprisingly good riding. The wind is pretty consistent in Dallas, and at Ray Hubbard the wind funnels in way upwind and then has a super long fetch all the way to the downwind part of the lake where the guys ride. Just try not to drop your kite or have any other kind of problem, as there is a major freeway sticking out of the water 200 yards downwind of the riding area.

Safety concerns aside, we thoroughly enjoyed our time in Dallas. Great guys and great riders. Thanks especially to Felipe, who put us up in his mansion overlooking the lake and fed us.

- Paul

Saturday, April 15: Dallas, Texas

It goes a bit against instinct to turn a bus filled with kites away from the coast and point it towards the desert. There was a noticeable dip in morale as we shipped out from Corpus Thursday. But Central Command insists that there are thriving communities of kiters along our way, and it's our job to see what’s up.

Our first stop was a few hours North of Corpus, near San Antonio, at a place called New Braunfels -- home to both the Texas Ski Ranch (cable park), and the Central Texas Kiteboarding Association. Since we were scheduled to arrive in the late afternoon, and the wind was light anyway, we’d decided to meet the locals at the cable park. And ... although we didn't have a chance to see these guys kite, judging by their performance on the cable (performed on demo Best boards, which they all loved), we left with little doubt that San Antonio was home to some considerable young (and not so young) talent. (Thanks for the t-shirts, guys!)

That night Noel pulled over for the night just shy of Waco, and we slept a few feet from the freeway, at a two-lane rest stop, surrounded by semis, while trucks and buses roared by feet away on the highway. The next morning, we realized we were closer to Dallas than we’d thought ... just two or three hours away. After some sketchy navigation from a still tired and mumbling Noel (Dude, speak up! Route what?? Shit, I just passed that!) we soon had the Dallas skyline in our sights.

"Says here we go to some place called Ray Hubbard Lake, just off route 30…"

"Dude, I see kites!" were Clinton's first words of the day, like an excited puppy recognizing an imminent park-stop. I have to agree ... it was great to see kites and whitecaps after a long drive through what felt like half of Texas.

- Paul

Friday, April 14th: What a Difference a Day Makes…

After a slider session at Bucky’s on medium kites ... Clinton on an 11 Yarga Pro, Bucky on a 12 Waroo, local rider Mike on a 14 Nemi, Noel on a 15 Yarga Pro, and my fat ass on a 16 Nemi ... we loaded up the bus and drove a mile to Lola Johnson, generally considered one of the windier spots in the area.

As we pumped up, we kept looking at the increasing whitecaps and noticed that it was getting suddenly harder to handle the kites. The sound of kites flapping, and whistling air as it shot over and under parked cars at high speeds made it suddenly necessary to yell. Particles of water from the bay seventy feet away misted us as we worked. You could feel the adrenaline in the air.

Before it got crazy, we’d put a couple of people out on the 12 Waroo. They came in as soon as the wind started to hit 25 knots, and we had the 9 ready to go. Meanwhile, Bucky put up the 12. It was his first time on the Waroo in high wind. After a couple of small practice jumps, during which he emitted a deranged-sounding laughter, in response to the totally unexpected and ridiculous hang-time, he really let it go.

The wind picked up even more, and Noel, Clinton, and I traded sessions on the 9 Waroo. Clinton was throwing kite loop handle passes and other moves I’m not qualified to name. Noel was going nuts with loops and big airs himself. When I got out there, I slowly started to dial in the big airs (my second time on the Waroo). One jump in particular I was up so high that it made the RV look like came out of a cereal box.

But unlike Bucky, I was a little too scared to be laughing :)

- Paul

Thursday, April 13: Still at Bucky’s…

Our Demo session on Tuesday fell a little short of the mark set by our South Padre sessions.

It had been windy at Bucky’s, on the mainland. We’d thought that a Gulf session (waves) would be an excellent way to show the Waroo off to full advantage. Bucky had checked wind readings at the beach and said it looked good. But by the time we got down there, the gulf looked like warm soup. Maybe ten knots, and a few 2 to 3 foot sloppy-looking waves.

In the end, two people showed up. More would have come, they told us, but everybody saw that the wind was dying fast and didn't want to bother. A couple of people, Noel and Bucky included, rode surfboards with the Waroo 16, and did ok. The only other kite up was a 20 ... also a Best kite, ridden with surfboard, by local German rider, Dieter.

- Paul

Wednesday, April 12th: Clinton Bolton Shows Up With a One-Way Ticket…

Being on the road with spotty internet connection, Noel and I are always the last to find out. We knew Clinton was flying down, but we'd just figured he was here to hang with us for a couple of days. So when he pulled up at the beach with Bucky and hoisted a large golf bag from the bed of Bucky’s pickup, Noel and I looked at each other to see if we both were as equally confused.

"Hey, guys!" said Clinton, in his soft-spoken, South African accent. "Guess what? I’m on the bus!"

"Ahh… really? That’s umm … awesome ... ?" was our slightly less-than enthusiastic welcome. It’s not that we weren't happy to see Clinton ... we just weren't sure how everybody was going to fit. As it was, Noel and I were having to take turns on the five and half foot sofa.

"Hmm, I guess we’ll just have to figure out how to do this," Noel said quietly, as we watched Clinton climb the steps.

Twenty minutes after his arrival, Clinton was on the water, putting us to shame with his unending variations on a handlepass, in wind too light for me to stay upwind. Yeah, I guess we do kind of need him, I thought to myself. I'm not exactly setting the world on fire with my backrolls ... :)

Later that night, we hit Cline Street Sailboards, where Best and Cline Street shop owner, Les Daniels, had organized a nice little get-together for the Corpus kite community. We gave out some shirts and raffled off an 11 meter Yarga. Jarret Finkhaus pulled the winning ticket. Way to go Jarret! Happy riding!

- Paul

Tuesday, April 11: Corpus Christi ... New Pastures

Today we are headed to the island, to the Gulf side, for what should be some good wave riding. Bucky has supposedly gotten out the word that the Best RV is here and has lined up all the local riders for a Waroo/ Yarga Pro demo session.

- Paul

Monday April 10th: Leaving SPI

We left South Padre Island Monday morning, after “dumping out” and taking care of some of the other less glamorous chores associated with RV travel.

As a final word on South Padre, if you're looking to get into kiting, head to Padre for a week. With flat, waist-deep water, consistent winds, wide-open areas, excellent instruction ... see www.AirPadreKiteboarding.com ... it is one of the best learning destinations I’ve seen.

Same day, a little later: Onwards…

It’s a three hour drive northeast to Corpus. I drove, because if I drive, I don’t have to listen to Noel’s speed metal. (Driver chooses tunes). Ignoring the complaints of my solitary passenger, I cranked up my "hippie music" and blazed up flat, dry, Route 100 and pulled into Best teamrider Bucky Ashcraft’s driveway, at about 1:30 PM. "Turn right at the surf shop," he'd said, "Drive along the water for two miles, and look for a long slider and the Best flag ..."

Bucky is a cool dude and a gracious host -- he pulled out all the stops on the Texas-style welcome. After taking us on a memorable downwinder across the Laguna Madre, the flat expanse of water that runs inside the 700 mile long Padre Island chain -- filled with glassy slicks made by the countless islands that crop up along the way ... we went over to the local supermarket to load up on beer, meat and charcoal.

- Paul

Saturday, April 8: South Padre Island, Texas

It’s 7 AM and we have a mini-hurricane on our hands. It must be gusting up to 45, maybe 50. Noel is still on the sofa, buried under a blanket, one foot dangling off to the side, and has opened one eye to inform me that the 7 Waroo might be ok with short lines… and a short… (yawn)… board. I told him I thought that sounded about right, and we got ready to go.

The Gulf was a hectic mess. The guys we were supposed to meet for the downwinder had already decided to wait and chill in the flat water for now. Too windy, they said. Sand was blowing pretty hard and crests of waves were getting sheared off and instantly vaporized. Not a huge swell, but just chaotic and crazy. If the locals won't do it, there must be a reason. Off to the South Flats we went.

Noel and I traded sessions on the 7 Waroo for a while, proving to the incredulous onlookers that no wind is too strong for the Waroo. This was some of the strongest wind I’ve ever ridden in, but with the Waroo, it was like a walk in the park. Never once did I have that "ohhhhh shit, when is this going to stop, I can't hold it any longer" feeling you get on a c-kite in overpowered conditions ... very nice.

Encouraged by what they saw, people began to put harnesses on and walk up to the bus.

It’s now several hours later, and the Waroo, and later the 7 Yarga Pro, have been in the water without rest. About six Minnesotans and several Texans just had to give it a try… the kites are making new Best friends at every stop.

"Well, I’ll be darned," said one heavy-set guy, after setting the Waroo down and waddling over to me dripping. "That thing is ‘bout as smooth as a baby’s bee-hind." He made some other jocular, drawl-ridden Texas analogy, which I couldn’t quite make out … but whatever it was, I got the general sense that he was seriously stoked.

- Paul

Tuesday April 4th: Lightwind demo day, SPI

Even for a rare light-wind day, there were at least ten-plus kites in the water. Noel and I set up our demos this morning and immediately people wandered over to tell us they’d been expecting us days ago, and were psyched to finally have an opportunity to try our boards and kites. The combination of choice today was the 14m Waroo with the 133 Float. People came back thoroughly stoked.

- Paul

Monday April 3rd: South Padre Island

It’s sunset. Padre is awesome. The North Flats, where we’ve spent our first day, are a magical, vast, deserted span of moist sand. It doesn't feel like we're in the US anymore ... we could be in Brazil or someplace like that. Flat water as far as the eye can see. And just on the other side of the road is the Gulf. We’re headed there tomorrow, for a little downwind wave action.

- Paul

Sunday 2 April: Corpus Windfest

After a Holiday Inn breakfast (free wireless), we high-tailed it down to Violet Andrews Park, the local kite spot (technically in Portland, just north of Corpus), and the site of the Corpus Windfest, for which local kiteboarder and kite-shop owner, Jeff Howard, put together a kite contest for locals. The event went well, even if the wind was a little light. Watch out for a fifteen year-old kid named Rocky, who won the "best trick" portion of the contest ... throwing slims and KGB’s like it was nothing.

- Paul

Saturday April 1st: Corpus

We pulled into Corpus Christi, our first official destination, late Saturday. Noel and I were both a bit road-weary and so didn’t realize that we had parked 20 feet from a railroad track. At two AM, the ground started shaking and the blast of a train whistle knocked me from my bed.

Somehow we got through the night, encouraged by the 25 knot-plus wind that was making rag dolls of the few trees that shared the abandoned parking lot with us.

- Paul

Friday March 31st: Leaving Delray

We left the Best parking lot at six PM on Friday, March 31st, and after a couple of false starts ... forgotten laptop, wrong direction on the Turnpike ... we were on our way.

Our first stop was some mega gas station and “food-court” combo, somewhere near Orlando. There, we filled our 100-gallon diesel tank, topped off the fresh-water tank, and ate really disgusting crap at the fast-food restaurant with the shortest line.

Specifically, I ate two hot dogs with sauerkraut and mustard and a large sprite. I mention this only because I am pretty sure that is what caused the monster case of food poisoning that has been hounding me ever since. I will never eat crap like that again.

- Paul

Two Months Earlier ... A Little Background

Noel is a dude who's been living in a van for the last few months, chasing wind around the state of Florida, teaching, riding, kiting as much as he possibly can. Pretty good rider, but pretty much homeless, except for his van.

So when Alex approached him and said, "Hey, Noel, how’d you like to drive a big, totally tricked out RV filled with brand-new kites for a few months, maybe longer, and take it all over the country demoing kites and boards?" Noel, in his characteristically understated way, muttered, "Umm, yeah, that’d be great…" (In Noel-speak, this is an enthusisastic, dance-on-the-table, "I can't believe my luck" expression of unresounding acceptance.)

Later that afternoon, Noel was at the news stand buying up every newspaper and RV magazine ever published. Modest guy that he is, he circled a couple of reasonable-looking "campers," which ... although they were a step or two up from his own van ... were a far cry from what Alex had in mind.

The idea, Alex-style, was to wrap a state-of-the-art RV the size of a tour bus with the Best logo, fill it with the latest stash of demo kites, and drive it around the country to evey kite spot imaginable.

So the next day, when Alex saw the modest little camper that Noel had circled ... looking like it had been abandoned on a yellowing lawn in Hickville ... what else could he say except, "What the fuck is THAT??!??

"Give me that!" he said impatiently, pulling one of the RV magazines from the stack Noel had been holding under his arm. Turning quickly to the centerfold, he immediately made up his mind. "Yeah! THIS is what I want. Find THIS."

He was pointing to "The Friendship 102" ... a 40-foot Gulfstream. If you don't know much about RVs, that means, "very big, very shiny, very expensive."

That is how ... two months later, we .... Noel and I (Paul Pinto, a local kiter from Delray) .... find ourselves packed and ready .... and about to set off on the West Coast leg of the first-ever "Dude, Where's My Bus?" Tour ...

- Paul