Wind riders

They believe man is meant to fasten his feet to a board, tether himself to a kite, then hope to be swept up in the next gust to blow over the sea

July 20, 2008|David Arnold, Globe Correspondent

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As Begle moved his students through phases of kite control, the island regulars started showing up, led by Rob Douglas, 36, a member of the Black Dog Tavern Co. (think the ubiquitous doggy T-shirt). One by one they would arrive on private pleasure boats, step ashore to discuss conditions and kite choices, then rig for what kiters do best.

Show off.

Kiters prefer to call it public service. The good ones - Douglas among them - can offer hair-raising entertainment for hours as they run through a repertoire of tricks. A good kiter can also smell a camera, and on this day as picnickers and boaters reached for photographic gear, kiters responded with an array of midair contortions as if a catapult, not the wind, was launching them.

I timidly joined the flock, without any acrobatics.

"Hey mistah," a youngster yelled from a boat anchored nearby, "do a trick!"

I contemplated responding: Kid, I am old enough to be your grandfather. I am going 30 miles per hour on something the size of a doormat. THAT'S my trick!

But decorum got the better of me. I waved, smiled, and pretended I had not heard him. It was age-appropriate.

And so as the better part of the afternoon passed, the experienced kiteboarders shuttled back and forth, and occasionally up and down, to wrack up more than 40 miles of travel, according to one GPS watch. Meanwhile, Begle's students had progressed to the point that they could control their kites and tummy drag under their kites far downwind as the instructor shepherded his flock from the Zodiac. About one hour later they were back on the beach and vowing to return tomorrow for the next lesson, which would graduate them to boards.

Then Begle worked his magic on me with a few jumping tips that almost had me wishing the picnic boats and cameras were still around. Eventually we dropped the kites, loaded the gear back in the Zodiac, and nosed into the smoky southwesterly wind and a setting sun for the trip back to Edgartown.

This is the way fairy tales end. Very Vineyard.

David Arnold can be reached at northwester@comcast.net.