Lost at Sea (Without Even Getting In)
By Wavers Ambassador Nektaria
Alright, fellow wind junkies, let’s talk about the struggle. Not just any struggle; the kind that makes you check Windy every hour like it’s a stock market ticker and pace around your apartment like a caged animal. Yes, I’m talking about three weeks of zero wind in Amsterdam. Three. Whole. Weeks.
If you’re reading this, chances are you already know the pain. You probably have a half-packed kite bag by the door just in case a miracle gust appears. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone has tried to convince the Dutch government to install industrial fans along the coastline. Desperate times.
The Forecast of Doom
It all started so promising. The long, dark winter was finally behind us. The sun was coming out. We were ready. Then—nothing. Not even a whisper of wind. Not even a fake forecast where Windguru teases us with 12 knots that mysteriously vanish by morning. Just endless, glassy North Sea and trees so still they might as well be made of plastic.
I don’t know about you, but my brain is wired for wind. It’s not just a hobby…it’s a lifestyle, a borderline addiction. Without it, something inside starts short-circuiting. The energy builds up with nowhere to go. My friends and I even started scouting ridiculous road trips, tracking conditions in Belgium and northern Germany like storm chasers. But even there—NOTHING.
Kite Surfer Existential Crisis
No wind means no kiting. No kiting means no dopamine. No dopamine means we become slightly unbearable human beings. And don’t even mention regular surfing. We live in the Netherlands, after all. The “waves” here are about as reliable as a politician’s promises. So that’s out.
Silver Linings?
Okay, fine. There have been some beautiful sunsets. The kind that makes you stop and appreciate life, even if it’s not the one you planned. And yeah, the city looks nice when it’s not raining sideways. But let’s be honest—I’d trade all of it for 20 knots and a decent session at Wijk.
Manifesting Wind
At this point, I’m considering drastic measures. A wind dance? A sacrificial offering of my least favorite kite to the wind gods? Maybe if we all collectively exhale at the same time, we can generate at least 10 knots.
Until then, we wait. We refresh the forecast. We dream of that first session back, where the stoke will hit so hard it’ll make up for every windless day.
So hang in there, my fellow wind addicts. The wind always returns. And when it does, I’ll see you on the water🏄