Atlantica - 01.06.2004, Blaðsíða 38

I’m standing on a snowy airstrip in southwest Iceland. The Blue
Mountains tower to the north. To the south, the outskirts of
Reykjavík skirt the horizon. I’ve just stepped into a harness,
clipped it to my waist, and I’m now attached to a 7.5 m parachute
sail.
“Step backwards as fast as you can,” says Einar Gardarsson,
owner of Vindsport, a company that sells and rents kitesurfing
equipment.
I run backwards, trying not to slip on the fresh coating of wet
snow. The white stuff continues to fall, reminding us that despite
what the calendar says (it’s April), we’re still in winter’s grasp.
The sail swoops into the air. I lunge forward as it catches the
wind, veering hard left.
“Turn it!” shouts Einar.
I do my best, but I lose the wind, and the sail drops to the
snowy ground.
Welcome to kitesurfing or kiteboarding or snowkiting. Heck,
whatever name you attach to it, you might as well call it the sport
of the future.
SURFING PARADISE
Wind. Iceland has mass quantities of it. The open sea. A vast tun-
dra of snow and ice. Empty beaches stretching for miles. This
small island brushing the Arctic Circle is the perfect playground
for kitesurfers.
“There’s no trees here to get in your way,” says Cyrille Collard,
a Frenchman who lives in Iceland, who is out boarding with us.
Taking a measurement with his wind gage, a small yellow
device that looks like a wristwatch, he says: “8.8 km/hour.”
The Frenchman tells me that he needs at least 10 to 15 km/hour
to be comfortable.
“It’s difficult to balance the kite and the snowboard. When the
wind goes down, I fall, too.”
While this is a relatively calm day, it’s perfect for a beginner. As
for my sail, the best size for Iceland is the one I’m struggling to
control. At 7.5 m, the sail is in tune with the normal conditions,
winds of 11 to 32 km/hour.
For the radicals drooling over the possibility of big waves and
gales, don’t worry. Iceland won’t disappoint you. Regardless of
the season, this country’s regularly blasted by the heavy stuff.
FINDING FREEDOM
While the Frenchman’s strapped to his snowboard and Einar is on
skis, I’m standing in my boots, still trying to learn how to control
the sail.
But you can choose your weapon. Hit the water and you use a
small board. Step onto a glacier and it’s skis or a snowboard.
Einar informs me that he’s ready this summer to attack Iceland’s
famous black-sand beaches with a board that’s attached to thick
wheels – they call it landboarding or buggying.
These wind sports are really catching on, Einar tells me. In
France, he says, there are only about four kitesurfing schools and
you have to wait a month to get in.
I don’t have the time to dig through the French Yellow Pages
looking for kitesurfing schools, so I take Einar at his word.
Besides, the past two summers I’ve explored beaches from
Croatia to Greece, and if you’re standing on the sand you can’t
swing a dead cat without hitting some dude in a swimsuit who is
unfolding his sail.
“It’s the freedom,” Einar says with strange glint in his eyes.
“You can surf on the open fields, up hills, over glaciers. You don’t
need a ski lift.”
e Wind
033 Kites Atl304 20.4.2004 8:09 Page 35