Archive for February 2022
Gone with the wind
A muscular six-foot-three and weighing well over 200 pounds in his wetsuit, Stefan Benko is not easily swept off his feet. That is unless he’s afloat on a carbon-fibre board and attached at the waist by a harness and 100 feet of nylon lines to a polyester kite.
Just add wind and waves for lift-off!
“It’s just me and the elements,” says Stefan. “The beauty of being on the water is a fantastic feeling, especially here on the Sunshine Coast. I have been out in 35-40 knots, incredible winds, swells so big you get in a lower spot, you don’t see land, you’re in a bowl, and then on top you take off because the wave propels you up.”
Tacking up and down the coastline on a stormy day, kiteboarders can generate speeds in excess of 40 kilometres an hour, leaping 30 to 40 feet above the waves. Not surprisingly, there’s a learning curve to be navigated.
A south-southeast wind is gusting 15 knots on the sunny day we meet at Davis Bay. Stefan is part of a close-knit but welcoming community of kiteboarders who can often be spotted on windy days, plying the ocean waves from Langdale to West Sechelt on the Sunshine Coast, northwest of Vancouver, Canada.
Many are self-employed like Stefan, connected to each other by the messaging service, WhatsApp, and highly motivated to hit the beach when conditions are right: Davis Bay in a south-southeasterly; Bonniebrook or Wakefield in a north-northwesterly; Shoal Channel between Langdale and Granthams Landing when summer thermals are blowing; or off the mouth of Roberts Creek when a southerly wind blows over the pier.
“We are all connected to weather apps and weather change usually means wind,” says Stefan. “Sometimes though unexpectedly the wind just pops up in the morning. You have two hours and then it dies. If the wind dies, the kite doesn’t fly and I have to swim back. It can be a long swim!”
A fickle wind is just one of several potential hazards of which kiteboarders must be aware. Stefan’s preparations begin in his van where he sorts through equipment based on conditions. A harness, bar and board, boots, wetsuit, impact vest, lifejacket and a helmet if it’s particularly rough are foremost on his mental checklist.
Then there’s the choice of kite. Like boards, kites vary in material and size based on your weight, level of discipline and wind speed. Strong winds mean smaller kites – about seven square metres. Lighter winds mean bigger kites with more surface area to generate better pull.
Today, Stefan is excited to use his new, 12-square-metre foil kite, which unlike inflatable kites, generates more power and operates well in lighter winds. “It’s the Rolls Royce of kites,” he tells me as we head down to the beach. “It just wants to go up, up, up. I love it!”
At the water’s edge and now in his wetsuit and harness, Stefan unpacks his gear – all of which weighs little more than a few pounds. Connected in a bridle, the nylon lines look like a bird’s nest at first. Stefan painstakingly makes sure that lines are straight and not crossed.
Rocks and barnacles are never too far from the sand of Davis Bay and a sudden gust of wind could potentially drag and damage the kite or cross the lines. That could spell calamity if equipment malfunctions half a mile offshore. Wind can also up-end a kiteboarder before they’ve even made it into the ocean.
Stefan recalls the first time he saw kiteboarding. “It was 1997 and I was in Maui, Ho’okipa Beach, and windsurfing was at its height. On the beach is this guy. He has a surfboard in one hand and two handles and a kite in the air. He is being dragged down the beach by the wind, there was so much force.”
Stefan rushed to assist. “I held him, we walked to the edge of the water and he put his feet in the suit-board straps and off he goes. Soon he’s flying, jumping, up and down. And I go, ‘what the heck is that?’”
Stefan had helped Marcus ‘Flash’ Austin, a pioneer of the sport, later to become its world champion for many years. “I used to windsurf, snowboard, wakeboard, anything to do with boards. When I saw kiteboarding, I thought ‘this is the sport, I want to get into.’ I used to paraglide. It’s the same idea of flying and hanging off the strings and controlling the wind and the kite and being able to lift. It was a perfect combination for me to get into it.”
With his lines straight and his final check over, Stefan is almost ready to launch. He’s keen to emphasize to anyone considering the sport, take lessons. Kiteboarders the world over always help each other, he says, but starting off with proper instruction is essential. (Several schools run out of Squamish.)
“There are so many things that can go wrong in a split second,” he says. “A sudden gust can shatter your confidence; it can rip the kite out of your hands or you’re being dragged by the kite, out of control, face first, hurting yourself, or someone else. Learn how to fly a kite and get the sense of balance, counter-balance, the pull and learn what not to do with a kite. If it flies out of control, there’s no way back.”
Mastering the art though can reap rich rewards and not just speed and big air. “A few years ago, here I was kiteboarding feet away from a pod of orcas. Last Fall, I was in the mouth of Wilson Creek and a salmon jumps and hits me in the thigh. Really!”
“Are there any conditions you’d refuse to go out in?” I ask. After a brief pause, Stefan answers: “No wind.” We laugh and with that, he edges into the waves, the slack in the nylon lines soon stiffening as the kite extends overhead.
Seconds later, he’s skimming the whitecaps heading west, before tacking into the wind and returning towards the mouth of Chapman Creek. Reclining at a 45-degree angle, edging into the waves and gaining speed, Stefan finally takes flight, and is suspended in mid-air. Seven seconds later, he descends.
I’m almost certain he’s smiling.
Cold comfort
Cold-water plunges too good to limit to New Year’s Day
It’s a raw, rainy November afternoon when I join Sherryl, Donna, Maggie, Tara and Meaghan at Porpoise Bay. Some dog-walkers are around but it’s safe to say, we’re the only people wearing bathing suits.
At the water’s edge, Donna Shugar confides: “My husband Ken thinks he should be here; just in case I don’t return.”
“How come he’s not doing this?” I ask.
“He’s from California,” Donna replies. “He says he hasn’t been warm since he moved to Canada.”
It’s true, cold-water exposure is not for everyone. There’s nothing inviting about today’s leaden skies and grey ocean. But seconds later, in fading light, we’re in, submerged, swimming, floating and talking. I stifle the urge to pant.
“There’s always a shock but I don’t really think about it anymore, I just do it,” says Sherryl Latimer. “I do a deep-breathing exercise for the first 30 seconds and then I am submerged, and it feels great.”
Like most of the others, Sherryl is a cold-water convert. She organized today’s swim and hopes it will become a regular event for like-minded enthusiasts. Sherryl invited Tara Swann and Meaghan O’Brien Spithoff, who swim with a group that meets multiple times a week at Henderson Beach in Roberts Creek.
For reasons as varied as the growing number of people who practice it, cold-water immersion is no longer just for New Year’s Day.
Meaghan is inspired by the contrasts between “the powerful ocean and the vulnerable human that enters it”.
“It’s breathtaking,” she says. “It feels like an internal strength develops inside you the more you swim and yet the ocean soothes you at the same time.”
Her friend Tara craves the connections made in the ocean – and not just human connections.
“I felt a little like I cheated the social isolation in the last year,” says Tara. “We come alone and meet up together. We’re distanced. Anyone is welcome and it quenches a social need while you compete only with yourself.
“Every day the water’s different, the sky is different, your body feels different. I dip my head like a daily baptism. It’s like how I imagine church to feel for others – replenishing.”
“Rejuvenating” is how Sherryl describes it. “After swimming in the cold, it feels like you’ve had a massage inside and outside your body. I have underlying heart and lung issues, and I live with depression. This just makes me feel so good. It lifts my mood and spirit. During Covid, I found the periods of depression came more often and for longer. When I swim more, the depression spells lessen.”
Sherryl keeps a detailed log of all her swims, recording weather conditions, tides and time spent in the water. Her attempts to form a weekly group are now making headway and she draws inspiration from a group in Powell River.
“I went up last spring and swam with them. It’s mostly women and 10 or 12 who swim every day. Right away you feel a camaraderie because it’s a special kind of person who does this. Now with the few women who have joined at Porpoise Bay, you have this thing in common, it’s out of the ordinary and there’s a sense of adventure.
“The overall benefit is of feeling wonderful afterwards and sharing that feeling with others.”
Storms, wind, rain and snow are no deterrent to the women, who are not about to let the weather come between them and their cold-water fix.
The stormier the better for George Vourtsis, who started a group pre-pandemic as an extension of the Gibsons-based boxing club. The group meets Sunday mornings off Franklin Road.
“Storms! That’s the best time to come out,” says George. “When it’s nasty and the wind’s blowing and the swells are up and you know you’re going in, you get a rush – it’s a good feeling.”
Another regular, Tammie Lumsden, can vouch for George’s enthusiasm. “One Sunday was super stormy, and I was standing at the edge, saying ‘I just can’t do this, there’s just no way’. And George said, ‘yes you can, you can do it’. I just got in and it was totally fine.”
Ironically, it’s a cold, calm, crystal-clear Sunday when I join the group. (Two humpback whales even make an appearance!) More than one person remarks that the weather’s actually too good. Most of the group remain immersed for at least two minutes, although one or two prefer to quickly run in and out.
When I ask why swim, I hear familiar feel-good responses of camaraderie, connection and health benefits, including better circulation, stronger immune systems and improved mental health. That word “rejuvenating” comes up again.
Simplicity also strikes a chord for Tammie.
“It’s free! You live on the Coast! I grew up next to water my whole life. Why wouldn’t you?”
Almost all the people I speak to are familiar with Wim Hof, a Dutch extreme athlete and so-called Ice Man, who has popularized specialized breathing techniques and cold therapy in books and videos. Less known to us now is Vincenz Priessnitz, who extolled the virtues of hydrotherapy more than 150 years ago. Hippocrates, considered the founder of medicine, was prescribing cold water as a curative circa 400 BC.
Science would seem to validate some of those shared but subjective feelings of exhilaration. A 2000 study published in the European Journal of Applied Physiology (“Human physiological responses to immersion in cold water of different temperatures”) found that the increase in dopamine from cold water exposure is comparable to levels recorded after taking cocaine. Dopamine is a neurotransmitter that in sufficiently high levels can lead to feelings of bliss, euphoria, greater motivation and concentration. The dopamine release triggered by cold water, unlike cocaine, is sustained, continuing to rise for up to three hours, long after exiting the water.
I’m beginning to understand why a free, legal, non-addictive, long-lasting high might be so appealing!
For all its potent stimulus though, swimming here at this time of year is not to be undertaken lightly for first-timers. Sherryl heeded her doctor’s advice of “take it slow and listen to your body” before becoming a full cold-water convert. “It’s at your own risk, learn about what you’re getting into and have someone spot for you if you’re swimming by yourself,” she adds.
I’d add that neoprene booties and gloves are pretty skookum, too!
For now, Sherryl is hopeful more people will join the group, which currently meets at Porpoise Bay Provincial Park one to two times a week. (Search “Sechelt Cold Water Swimmers” to find the group on Facebook.)
“Perhaps we’ll be doing this every day,” she says.
Nev Judd: Online and out there 