|
|
|
The cold war seems like ages ago. Back in the early eighties digital
cameras were not yet mainstream and faxes were the state of the art communiciation. When texting was unheard of and tweeting
was still for the birds our forty-old bodies (Excel Corp) rallied to this relatively new sport called windsurfing. There were
four at first, now reverently referred to as the founding fathers. As the four slowly progressed others joined
the struggle, and the bar continued to rise in fact & metaphor. At the close of the eighties we had an epiphany and consequently a movement. The movement took the form of an annual migration for a week to the Outer
Banks. And so it has continued, sailing scary fast, buying & breaking equipment, red-lining gourmet cuisine
, and bonding in friendship.
OBX in the Spring where the wind
goes.
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
RVA in Fall where the Potomac
meets the Bay at Smith Point.
|
In pious repose Dr. Wind ceremoniously invokes the chilling presence of Boreas, both loved and feared by all sailors. |
 |
|||||
 |
Freely given is the Jimmer's noble gift: Earth & Water.
|
 |
||||
 |
From the North Boreas delivered BIG TIME.
|
 |
||||
 |
 |
 |
||||
 |
 |
 |
|
|
