A Kiteboarder’s Tale

Maui's hottest new water sport blends two favorite Hawaiian pastimes. Mix one part surfboard with one part kite flying–shake with plenty adrenaline.

 

Mike Harrelson

 

When favorable winds blow, the procession begins. Around 10 a.m., as the northeast trades freshen, a Who’s Who of kiteboarding heroes and hardcores stream onto this otherwise sleepy, kiawe-shaded strand: Kanaha Beach Park (a.k.a. “Kite  Beach”). Like   devoted   soldiers on a single-minded mission,  loaded  with  the  techiest  carbon-fiber boards and rip-stop kites, everyone eyes their respective telltales. Are the needles in the ironwood treetops whispering or doing the boogie-woogie? Is the turquoise Pacific dappled by a late-morning breeze or frothed like a salt latte? These visual cues tell everyone just how mellow or amped they should be as they begin rigging their gear.
   
Whether from homes on Maui, or from wind-inspired places all over the planet, devotees have made the pilgrimage to this sand spit now dubbed the mecca of kiteboarding. Just a few years back, “Kite Beach” was a tattered, overgrown squatter’s camp. But when the kiteboarding community realized their new sport might best and most safely be enjoyed out of the fray of others (windsurfers, surfers, and tako [octopus] divers), they took it upon themselves to adopt this little cove. Through considerable sweat equity they’ve transformed this once “Charlie Brown Christmas tree” beach into the Shangri-la of shred.
   
As a lifelong student of action sports, I flew over from my home on the Big Island to witness the scene, to feel its pulse, and to observe the grand masters of this latest fusion of wind and water. Over the past few decades, hybridized sports like mountain biking, snowboarding, and tow-in surfing have been born out of creative cross-pollination. Similarly, kiteboarding draws on two favorite pastimes of the ancient Hawaiians, surfing and kite flying, and blends them into a sport if cocktail heavy on adrenal nectar.
   
Out toward Kite Beach’s rocky point, aficionados are already unfolding and inflating their kites, unfurling nylon lines, and slipping into diaper harnesses with Captain Hook hardware protruding from their bellies. Soon the launch sequence begins, as the kiteboarding ‘ohana (family), working together, make sure their lines are clear and then spot one another to the water’s edge to make sure no one lifts off prematurely. They work within such a limited “footprint” launch zone, I can only compare the precision, teamwork and raw power to images I’ve seen of jets taking off from the deck of an aircraft carrier.
   
Soon the sky around me is full of brightly colored ribbed rectangles, puffed with invisible power. Holding onto what is in essence an oversized stunt kite, a trapeze-style bar in their hands, kiteboarders harness  the  power  of  the  wind, riding  atop  stubby  wakeboarding  or windsurfing-inspired boards. Zoom, zoom, zoom! The choreography is impressive as these riders leave the shore and head to sea as if launched from a catapult. Today the conditions appear ideal as 30 or so initiated rippers charge up- and downwind—laying out power jibe rooster tails and hucking enormous air with slow-motion rail grabs.

   
Never a content armchair athlete, I’ve signed up for a course of study with Martin Kirk,  owner of the Kiteboarding School of Maui. Martin, I’ve been tipped off, is the go-to guy if you really want to learn this sport and work your way through the progression. Having surfed since I was a tow-headed kid, and having flown kites since Cub Scouts, I was keen to leap right into the learning curve of this latest rage sport.
   
I viewed a video primer at Martin’s shop that covered kiteboarding fundamentals and stressed the importance of safety. It was now time to have a go with a scaled-down foil, referred to as a “trainer kite.” Trainer kites allow beginners to gain familiarity with launch and landing procedures as well as a chance to get the feel for basic flying techniques. It looked simple enough as Martin pulled back lightly on the control bar and flew the kite up to a zenith—straight overhead—with the wind directly against our backs. Then he handed the kite to me and I quickly realized there was a lot more subtlety to this than first appeared. As I veered the kite out of its zenith position it suddenly loaded up as if tethered to a wild animal. Unknowingly, I’d just experienced my first taste of the power zone—that hallowed, downwind sweet spot where the wind’s FULL FORCE hits your kite. Whoa!
   
After spending an hour with the trainer kite, I began feeling less anxious and slightly more in control of this twitchy bird. It was time to try out a full-size kite, a 4.2-square-meter Cabrinha, and go through a drill Martin called the “water drag.” Soon I was being dragged out to sea. Clenching onto the so-called “control bar,” I wasn’t at all clear on who was controlling what. Squinting upward, I tried to keep a steady eye on my bumblebee-colored kite, because if my motions weren’t smooth it yanked me skyward. Clutching onto the back of my life jacket, coaching all the while, Martin willingly went along for the ride on our blue-water trajectory. His calming voice encouraged, “Bring your kite to neutral . . . now hook into your harness . . . now dive your kite towards the water. . .Pull up! Easy now, you can add and subtract thrust by diving and climbing.”
   
Having safely made it to the culmination of our four-hour lesson, I now had my chance to put it all together. Kite launched, Martin spotted me to the shore’s edge, adding ballast lest I get lifted from terra firma. Methodically he repeated the mental checklist I must go through when I was out on the water—alone. Kite to neutral . . . hook in . . . reach back for your board . . . slip into the foot straps. All systems go! I dove my kite through the power zone. Skipping out to sea, this time on my feet, I leaned back on my heel-side rail and let the kite do the work. Voila! Now I realized what the buzz was all about.