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| Three days
before Christmas the temperature had risen to a most uncomfortable 37 degrees Celsius. As
soon as you left the air conditioning in your house, car, or supermarket, you were struck
by the heat. This causes strong winds of 30 knots and more in the afternoon. At Point
Moore even the heavy-weights needed 4.0 sails or smaller and by five o'clock the
beach was deserted, with everybody seeking refuge behind the bushes next to the rigging
lawn. So I decided that my only chance to get a good sail was to go to St. Georges beach
the next day and start 'really early'. And indeed, when I arrived shortly before 1 pm
(daylight saving time = 12 am regular time), there was no surfer to be seen. However, a
clan of Aboriginals was scattered all over the rigging lawn. As usual, there was an
invisible wall of silence between the Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal users of the beach,
including the children. I recalled that, in a situation like this, even the most
trustful West Oz windsurfers would start locking up their cars and refrain form leaving
their car keys behind the right back tyre. I rigged up and was already in my wet suit, when I realized that I had left my harness at home. De-rigging and rigging up again would have taken too long, as the winds were steadily picking up. So I approached a group of aboriginal women minding their babies and introduced myself as a windsurfer from Germany who, unfortunately, had forgotten her harness and left it at home. They wanted to know why I needed it and then agreed to look after my equipment. I pulled the top of my wet suit down, put the air condition on full, raced back home, dis-armed and re-armed the 3-stage security system in the house I was staying at and headed back to St.Georges beach by which time I was soaking wet inside my wetsuit. The winds had become really strong and still there was no other windsurfer around. I had a few bumpy rides, but didn't even attempt to gybe for lack of board control. Holding on to the boom, I let myself fall into the water, turned the board, and water started.
Rather frustrated I carried my equipment back to the rigging lawn where I was immediately surrounded by the aboriginal clan and bombarded with questions about windsurfing, my family, and Germany. The littles ones tried on my helmet, and it was then that I mentioned how much my family and friends back home wold love to see a small girl whose name was Rikesha wearing my helmet. Maybe I could take a photo? (Traditionally, this is regarded as 'taking the face away', therefore such a request would be denied.) Permission was granted. It turned out to be a rather long photo session, as now everybody had to be in it, including myself, and, of course, everybody had to have a look at the pictures later on. Two days before Christmas I got a phone call from Sunset caravan park. A windsurfer from Germany inquired whether my house had air conditioning. He was literally baking in the caravan park and dreaming of a 'cool' German Christmas. So we enjoyed the swell and the strong winds of the late afternoon breeze on December 24 and started the party at 8 pm: tea for two or two for tea. After desert I unpacked his most thoughtfully chosen Christmas present – 3 juggling balls to help me pass the time when there was no wind. Between Christmas and New Year's Eve the crowd of long-term windsurfers from Europe, the US and even Japan was joined by windsurfers from all over Australia spending their holidays in Geraldton. On a good day, there were about 100 people on the water at Coronation beach, and also at Point Moore you could no longer find a parking space in the first row right next to the rigging lawn if you arrived later in the afternoon. The atmosphere grew tense, people became quite aggressive. Also, basic rules like “out goes first and holds his/her line”, as his/her objective is to get out the back, planing or not, were not followed. As for coming in, first on the swell, as a general rule, has right of way was not always followed either. Some of the sailors thought they were so 'hot' and could do all the moves that they did not care about anybody else. (“Bloody Euros behaving badly”) Therefore you had to be constantly on the alert. Whilst wave riding at Kiddies Corner I had to jump off my board, right onto the reef, to avoid crashing into a 'Spanish torpedo' that came flying towards me. However, as regards the locals, and that includes the kiters, I always felt I could rely on their profound skills and professional approach towards sailing. At the beginning of January, when temperatures fell and the swell was rising due to a cyclone further north, the holiday makers started leaving and Point Moore went back to normal with 10 or 15 windsurfers and kiters on the water and a cheerful “G'day, how ya going” for everyone that arrived.
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text & photos: Eva Marie Drape-Huelsemann © windgirls 2007 |
