kite surfing descriptive essay about kitesurfing

Finally, the wind was in the perfect direction. The conditions were also perfect. The nerves were growing inside me like an agitated ant farm being threatened. All I could think of was the clear blue water and the waves powerfully crashing down on the see. The sand blowing against your skin giving off a slight wiping pain which felt good even though it hurt and that fresh smell of seaweed all of those factors were part of the experience. This wasn’t just another ordinary sport, no this was more. A passion, or its more of an obsession you could say.

An obsession that could not be relieved unless it was fed. It’s what I think of every morning as I wake up and every night as I go to bed. There is an emptiness dwelling inside me whenever I’m not in the water felling the wind rush on my face. I cannot feel complete when I don’t feel the waves underneath my board on my face and the salty water pricking my eyes. I was finally going to feel in my nature again. I was now impatiently waiting in the car with my dad, who was telling me something I knew I should have listed too. But how could I, I was finally going to kite surfing. Finally I had arrived, my dad helped me getting all of my equipment out the car. When I had as much equipment as I could carry he looked at me and gave me a warm, comforting smile because he knew how much I loved being in that water. I rushed up onto the beach with all my equipment feeling the sand blowing against my skin and the wind giving me goose bumps. I was pumping up the kite which took a lot of energy and I was getting hot in my wetsuit but I didn’t care anything was worth the experience.

With my kite pumped up and my harness on I asked my dad to get the kite in the air which he always did with a little hint of childlike attitude. He always wanted to be able to do what I was doing today but he was too late and he could never get up on the board. As I rushed up into the water with my kite in the one hand and my board in the other I felt how cold the water was but I always believed that the colder the water is the more exiting it was. As I leave the beach and look back at my father who was getting smaller and smaller I was finally happy again and I realised that no matter how bad my day was I would always have this where I could get away from tings and not look back.

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