DAY 450: My presumption of kiteboarding was that it would be similar to snowboarding, only with no snow. From what I had seen of the pro kiteboarders of Boracay's Bulabog Beach, riders strapped into a board like one would on a snowy mountain, and lean back and forth to maneuver and keep balance. Kiteboarding was a bit harder than snowboarding though, as I discovered on my second day of IKO certification class at Hangin.

BEFORE CLASS AT TEN IN THE MORNING, there was a final "see you later" as it was Tito Mike's last morning in Boracay before taking the boat back to the airport on Panay Island and flying back to Manila to get back to work. We went out for breakfast that morning -- all three of us finally -- at the all-you-can-eat breakfast at Le Soleil. At last the situation was "more Filipino;" the uncomfortable silence was gone and I ate a lot of corned beef hash. I was happy that Tito Mike, Tita Josie, and I were finally able to share a meal together after the miscommunications of the past couple of days. The winds were finally blowing my way.

The winds were blowing nicely at Bulabog Beach, but it was the tides that weren't cooperating yet. "[We have to wait for the tides to come in,]" Merck said. "Maraming [many] sea urchins."

This didn't stop the pro boarders (picture above) from taking to the boards and the surf. Merck pointed out who was who in the Boracayan kiteboarding scene as we sat on the sidelines. "That guy's fourteen. He's a beginner, but he's good." "[That's Doughboy,]" he said, referring to the aquatic daredevil who had caught some air and did some spins 8 ft. up.

Wow, I can't wait to get to that level, I thought.

The tide came in and we geared up. I put my harness and aqua shoes on and then set up a five-meter kite by myself, with Merck supervising. He led me out to the lukewarm water of the bay and had me continue my body dragging exercises. Twelve to three, three to nine, and back again. The kite grabbed the upper winds, harnessed its power, pulling the cords attached to my harness to pull me away. It was a great feeling to have some sort of control of the wind as it took me at its whim.

Tita Josie stopped by to check out the scene; she hadn't seen kiteboarding yet and wanted to see what my fuss was about. "[He's good,]" Merck told her. "[He can control the kite very gently.]"

Merck went out for a ride to not only show off his technique, but the one trick he'd mastered: riding on one foot, a balancing act easier said than done. He passed the kite and board to another rider and came back to shore. "So what's your plan for the day? Should we go to the boards?"

"Yeah, let's go."

I unhooked the cords of my steering bar to the five-meterer (Can I say "five-meterer" like "five-footer?") and connected them to the ties of an eight-meterer. A difference of three meters doesn't sound like much, but it is. One square yard of drag is enough to slow a falling body by twenty percent, I recalled, a tidbit I remembered from a Dan Brown novel.

Merck kept the kite at twelve and walked it out to the bay for me. "Okay," he signaled for me to detach the safety rope from his harness to hook to mine, then dislodge the "pig tail" safety latch from his hook so that I could hook into the steering bar myself. I strapped in and held on.

"Do you feel the power?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," I replied.

Power was right; that sucker really caught some air and anytime I strayed away from the neutral "twelve" position, I'd start to get carried away, quite literally. Sometimes even at twelve I'd feel myself being lifted up. Any kite bigger than an eight-meterer and I'd probably start flying up in the sky like Gonzo with those helium balloons in the original Muppet Movie.

Steering the kite was hard, but manageable, and it definitely required a lot more concentration and balance. I kept from flying away with the help of Merck holding me via the support handle in the back of my harness.

Once I got the hang of it, the board finally entered the picture, putting the board in kiteboarding. It was similar to a snowboard with a configurable stance of step in bindings on the top. I had to keep the kite at twelve while trying to mount in -- a feat easier said than done. Luckily Merck was there behind me to keep me from falling down or rising up.

"Okay, eleven, then two, fast. You have to pump the kite," my instructor said. By pumping, he meant to catch a gust by lowering the kite in a rapid motion.

I did as told and tried to stand on the board, but it just sank; I hadn't pumped the kite hard enough to provide enough drag to keep me afloat. It floundered out of control. "Save the kite! Save the kite! Don't pull on the bar, don't pull on the bar!" Merck called out, but I wasn't fast enough to bring it back to twelve in time and the big eight-meterer crashed into the surf. Merck took the reins and tried to do his magic of relaunching the kite without having to walk all the way over to manually reset it into the air, but after some time, he had to do the "walk of shame" for me anyway.

The winds were too weak on that attempt.

TAKE TWO. Same set up. I kept the kite at twelve and mounted the board. "[Okay, you have to pump the kite. Go lower,]" Merck instructed me. "[Lower the kite to give it more power."

Okay, more power to provide momentum. I can do this.

We waited for the area to clear of other kiteboarders and windsurfers and then I pumped from eleven to three. The winds really caught in and pulled me up to stand on the board -- and then violently slam me into the water like a belly flop. Salt water went all up my nose and I lost my sunglasses. Underwater, I still felt the power of the kite pulling me. I stood up but the kite went crazy and I lost control of it. It flipped and slammed into the surf.

The winds were too strong on that attempt.

Suddenly I knew why the arch of the kite was rigid with only inflated air and nothing solid; I might have killed someone. I really started to see the potential dangers of kiteboarding that I had heard of. Margo, my dive instructor/buddy at Aquarius Diving, told me she had once tried kiteboarding, but would never do it again after the traumatic experience when she lost control of a kite and almost slit a guy's throat with rope burn from one of the cords.

MY SUBSEQUENT ATTEMPTS were more of the same; either the kite wouldn't be pumped hard enough to keep me upright, or it'd be pumped too hard, causing me to lose control and crash. After almost every crash, Merck would have to walk all the way over to the kite to launch it in the air, then walk all the way back to me to help me mount in. I could tell that after many back and forth walks, he was getting pretty tired of it.

"Okay, last one," he told me, cueing my final attempt of the day.

"Okay."

"Remember the quick release," he reminded me, referring to the safety measure installed in the steering bar to prevent a runaway kite.

This is it; don't get scared now. Concentrate Erik-san. You can do it! I thought, citing quotes from Home Alone, The Karate Kid, and The Waterboy. I balanced the kite at twelve, mounted the board, and pumped the kite from eleven down to three.

Save the kite. Let the wind take the kite. Don't pull on the bar. Remember the quick release. Don't cross the streams.

The wind took the kite. Upright I became. Forward I went.

Wooo hoooo! I'm doing it! I'm kiteboarding! Wooooo!

The momentum didn't last so long because I didn't keep a consistent drag going. Still, it felt amazing to finally get the hang of it.

"Astig! Okay, again!" Merck called out, cheering and smiling. "I said it was the last, because the last is the best."

"Yeah, best for last."

Same set up. Balance, mount, pump. This time I didn't get it, but I didn't crash the kite and managed to hop back on the board for another attempt. That attempt failed to as did the next. Man, did I lose the power?

"[Okay, this is the last one,]" Merck said.

"Okay."

Balance, mount, pump. Like magic, the winds caught on and took me forward, this time for quite a while, maybe three times more than I had gone before. I lost consistency in the drag and sank, but still felt good that I got the hang of it on my last try of the day. "Two or three more days and you'll have it," Merck said.

"Yeah, I just need to practice."

We ended the session on a high note and went back to the office to already file the paperwork; due to the travel schedule imposed upon me by my Tita Josie, I could not stay another day in Boracay to finish the third and final official certification day of IKO training. I got an IKO certification card anyway, with the third section blacked out; I could use that card to finish the training in another center, should I come across one in my further travels of the Philippines.

"You have to stay one more day! [You almost have it!]" Merck said. He pleaded with me to stay in Boracay to complete the training, like the way Yoda did on Dagobah in The Empire Strikes Back before Luke Skywalker cut his Jedi training short to go fulfill his destiny -- and to ultimately discover he was bound by the Relatives Factor. ("No... I am your father.") Alas, the winds of my travels were also dependent on the Relatives Factor; Tita Josie and I were expected to stay that night at her friend's house in Kalibo on the neighboring island of Panay.

"YOU'RE LEAVING ALREADY?" Margo said when I bumped into her on our way back to the ferry station to leave Boracay Island later that afternoon. "You don't like it here?"

"No, it's not that," I said. "Uh, we just have to go."

"We hardly got to do anything."

I sighed. If only I had one more day. "Yeah, I know." I remained optimistic. "I'll be back. And you'll be here." We parted ways, not knowing if that would actually happen.

The spider boat ferry took Tita Josie and I passed a rowing crew from Boracay back to the island of Panay as the sky got darker and darker. Soon it started raining and eventually it turned into a massive storm, one that continued through the night until morning -- a storm that might have put a damper on any diving or kiteboarding activities in Boracay if I stayed that extra day anyway. Funny how fate works; to quote a line from arguably^* the deepest philosophical movie of 2004 (Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle), "The universe tends to unfold as it should."

Perhaps the storm was my cue to just accept that the Relatives Factor was all a part of the Fate of my travels -- my destiny like Luke Skywalker if you will -- that I've come to believe in. Nothing is coincidental; somethings are simply out of my control. In kiteboarding as in Life, the winds take you and carry you to new places, new experiences, and new discoveries. Sometimes they blow in your favor, sometimes they don't; sometimes you can control them, sometimes you can't. Either way, it sure is one hell of a ride.

SAVE THE DATE; DAY 503 IS COMING. MARCH 5, 2005, NYC.
DETAILS AND TRAILER COMING SOON...

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