It's A Breeze

Sydney Morning Herald

Friday August 22, 2008

Ellie Harvey

COOL WIND IN HER HAIR, ELLIE HARVEY HITS THE BEACH AND LEARNS HOW TO WINDSURF AT BALMORAL.

IT COMES as a nasty shock to wake to freezing temperatures and a grim sky smeared in grey cloud on the day you windsurf for the first time. That is until I consider that it's August and, really, I was deluded to expect anything otherwise.

Yet in a moment of divine intervention the clouds part, the sun begins to shine and the water sparkles as if I was in a cheesy romantic comedy. Sadly neither Will Smith nor Matthew McConaughey turn up on a power-ski. Sigh.

Sporting a half pulled-on steamer and ugg boots as I arrive, I am consoled only slightly that I have the right dress code - Jono Allen, my bleached-blond instructor, greets me in a flannelette shirt and shorts. It's time to start.

On land we run through the basic theory, aided by the "simulator" - a fancy way of describing the windsurfer set up on a stand. Allen runs through the basic parts: boom, uphaul, clew, centreboard ... suddenly windsurfing got technical. As he places his hands on the right side of the board I interrupt smartly, "Starboard and the left is port." But Allen says there's no need to confuse myself. "Left and right is fine."

Soon we are talking tacks and gybes and all things sailing. "What do you know about wind?" Allen asks. "Just the direction," I reply. He says it's arguably the most important part of windsurfing and something beginners find difficult to read. Thankfully he'll be there to instruct me and assures me that with "a small sail and a big board" I should be up in no time. I doubt his optimism.

In waist-deep water, it's time to put my onshore learning to the test. My instructor goes first, calling instructions over his shoulder as he goes. He's still wearing his flannelette shirt. He won't be getting wet.

Now it's my turn. As taught earlier, I kneel over the centreboard, slowly pull on the uphaul to raise the sail, grab the mast and breathe a sigh of relief in the "secure position". I'm stable until I look up and spend the next few minutes trying not to overcompensate for my wobbling. I estimate that I have 30 seconds before I hit the water. Allen ignores that, saying I should grab the boom when I'm comfortable. The wind may be less than five knots but it's all smooth sailing from here.

Getting comfortable with how to balance my weight, I begin to look around - until now I have been staring intently at my feet. I notice small schools of fish darting back and forth beneath.

Sliding back to the task at hand, I'm now heading for a rather nice (and expensive-looking) motorboat anchored straight ahead. Now would be a good time to practise, and perfect, my turns. "Jono," I call out, "How do you turn again?"

Having successfully avoided a catastrophe I spend several more minutes in the sheltered bay, enjoying the continual changes in wind direction. It's testament to Allen's straightforward teaching how quickly I've managed to get up and about. Yet fairly soon, my fearless instructor thinks it's time for a bigger challenge.

He tows me by the sail into deeper and windier waters. It's an easy ride and a chance to appreciate being out on the water. The bizarre image of me sitting cross-legged on the board, with a man in a motorboat dragging me by the sail, prompts a nearby kayaker to laugh. "Don't take it too easy," he says.

About 200 metres from the shore I get back into position. Standing up, I feel the power of the wind in the sail. Keep in mind, "power" is a relative term, the wind having doubled now to a ferocious 10 knots.

We practise turning. Ever so slightly I steer the sail towards the nose of the board, shuffling my feet as delicately as possible at the same time. Bracing for an icy awakening any moment, I'm startled to find I'm suddenly sailing in the opposite direction undeterred.

I'm sure it's the equivalent of scoring from in front of goal with no goalkeeper to beat but I don't care. I'm finally doing it. Thanks to sporadic puffs of air I move between smooth sailing and the wobbles, easing off the boom when I do. Soon Allen is giving me tips on how to go faster and I'm gladly taking them.

He calls out to me to look ahead. It's at this point the cheesy smile, appropriate to the chick flick we mentioned earlier, breaks across my face.

It would be fitting to say the wind was flying through my hair but the director had no such luck. It may only have been strong enough to propel me along at walking pace but I was sailing into the distance.

"I'll sail home from here," I call out to Allen.

It's too soon before my instructor, who doubles as a weatherman, informs me it's about to rain. In the 20 seconds it takes me to digest his commands and drop the sail it's already starting to spit. As I head back towards the shore, the sky opens and it starts to pour. I can't help laughing. In true Hollywood style, I have survived the whole session without getting my hair wet - until now.

you try it

Balmoral Sailing School runs one-hour private windsurfing lessons any time from Monday to Sunday all-year-round and caters for all skill levels. Balmoral Sailing School, The Esplanade, Balmoral Beach, $110. Phone 9960 5344 or see www.sailingschool.com.au.

© 2008 Sydney Morning Herald

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