Well, the wind didn't pick right back up, so after an incredible meal at The Cracker Barrel (that's good home cookin' piping hot), we bid adieu to our friend. And then the refrigerator stopped working.
We headed to the nearest RV service spot, hoping to get the problem remedied before all our food got friendly with the Texas heat. Our luck was running strong, as the folks their were super nice, diagnosed the problem free of charge, showed us how to install it, and then sold us the part we needed. It was installed in 20 minutes and we were up and running with an icebox before the cubes could start sloshing.
So we were going to take off, end our stay in Corpus upon Jason's retreat to California. After all, in many ways we had overextended our visit, switching from road trip mode to stationary excercise bike mode. But we had been warned when we first arrived.
"So how long are you planning on staying?" Teresa had asked. "And don't say, 'when it stops blowing' because it never does."
Corpus and her faithful breezes and cool folks had held us captive for over two weeks, and the wind was still blowing. But with so much of the country still to see, we knew we had to mosey soon, and Jason's departure had seemed a likely milestone.
But then we met Pete Nordby.
The U.S. Open Windsurfing Regatta was going to be held right out on Oleander Point on Memorial Day Weekend, and Pete was organizing the first Kitesurfing Invitational as a part of the Open. He invited Brant to be a judge. And it was windy again. So how could we refuse?
Brant revving up on the beach.
So, now feeling very much a part of the community, we met up with our buds in the afternoons at Air Bases to kitesurf (the other time I tried kiting at that spot the whole fleet of Navy patrol, Sheriff department, and Corpus police, including a fire engine showed up to my [unneeded] rescue...you'd think I'd sent up a flare or something). Brant and Olaf had a wicked day of more than four hours of kitesurfing, doing leg after leg of six-mile downwinders. Olaf whipped downwind on his 5.0, coming in to the beach with wild cries of the "Monganni Assault" ... a strictly Olaf word derived from the old Tarzan cartoons. It means "Last of the Ape Men," which seemed appropriate to Olaf to reflect his riding style, but he uses it in conjunction with just about anything as an expletive adjective, pronounced with incredible passion and an enthusiastic accent. Jeremy showed mid session, ripping it up like mad, with 720s and backflips in the surf.
The weather kept warming up to summer, and our A/C got some extra exercise. We had no more encounters with jellyfish, no more mile-long swims. Just warm water, steady winds, and the building anticipation of the coming weekend's events.
Darian tweaking it.
On Thursday night, we met Darian Smith on the beach at Oleander Point, and his resemblance to our college friend J-Dog was uncanny. He was here for the contest, sponsored by Wind Tools and on a Texas break from his current European tour. He and BP sailed for an evening session, with Olaf finishing up his run too.
We cheffed up some tacos in the camper, a perfect end to a great day. And also the perfect appetizer to what was sure to be a spectacular weekend of wind sports.
