This has nothing to do with wine, but I thought I'd share a great story to share from our recent trip to the coast.
For many years, I had a basic, little pocket kite that I would take to the coast, camping and basically anywhere I traveled. I loved that little pocket kite.
Anyhoo, right after my Achilles surgery a few years ago, I was just starting to get around and we went to the coast. I thought, since I can't walk very far, I will just fly my kite. I was having a good time of it, it was just the right amount of wind for the kite. I had let almost all of the string out when I was distracted momentarily. As a huge gust of wind yanked the kite from my hand, I watched helplessly as the handle unspooled the last of the line. I made a futile attempt at chasing it down, but with my recent injury, all I could do was hobble uselessly after it, with Cotton chasing me and barking like it was all a great game. I watched as it continued to gain altitude and fly south, never to be seen again.
A while later, I bought a new pocket kite, it was bigger and more of a foil style. I took it with me as usual but had trouble actually flying the damn thing. I decided at the last minute to take it with me last week to the coast. But, persistence finally paid off, boy, am I glad I did. I had a blast flying it and got a great story to tell as well.
We stopped at Ona Beach outside of Newport, OR to let Cotton, our yellow lab run for a bit.
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| River - and Cotton - running toward the ocean |
It was a warm day and pretty windy, about 15-20 mph. I decided to give my kite a shot. As the line unspooled, I felt a familiar feeling. Almost like I knew what I was doing, the kite starting gaining altitude and I was able to guide it left to right and up and down. We walked along the beach and at one point, I connected it to Cotton's harness; that didn't work out so well, he kept biting at the handle as we jogged down the beach. I took it off him and kept on flying. As we walked back, I started reeling in the line. Justed before we got to the river, I fumbled as I wound the line, suddenly I dropped it. It started tumbling across the sand, racing toward the creek, with me in hot pursuit. I was running faster than I had since my surgery. The kite was teasing me, laying out line as it flew away. I was gaining on it, albeit slowly. As the handle approached the river, I was almost upon it, I almost dove for it as it skipped like a rock across the river. Dejected, I looked up to see the kite get hung up on a short tree on the other side of the river. A couple was there and they waved and indicated it stopped.
I ran across a bridge to the other side, as I came to the end of the bridge, I met the couple who saw the whole thing. They were grinning and told me they were glad the tree stopped it. As we greeted each other, I suddenly saw my kite take flight again. Slightly panicking, I bid my goodbyes and raced over the rest of the bridge to save my kite before it too flew south.
Upon coming around the corner, I saw a man flying my kite and a lady collecting line. He said he was walking on the beach when he was almost garroted by the kite string. As a kite fan, he thought hmm, someone's kite, what is it doing here. He decided to fly it away and see what happened. As he saw me running, ever so out of breath, he realized it was mine. I located the handle - still in the river, and began to gather up the line. He flew the kite until I reeled in the last of the line. They were from the Boise area on vacation to the Oregon Coast. We both had a big laugh about it and decided we had a wonderful story to take home.
I headed back over the bridge, kite in hand and told Jill the whole story. I now know how to fly that particular kite and we have a wonderful tale to tell.
