Windsurfing Vassiliki

13/07/2013

Vassiliki Bay

When I decided to take my career break one of the key activities I wanted to spend my time on was windsurfing and it was such that I booked myself on a month long instructor course in Vassiliki with flyingfish. I decided to do the course because I would like to get into the windsurfing industry and somehow make my passion my work thus I figured training as an instructor would be a good start, but the course also afforded me maximum time on the water with some coaching thrown in for good measure.

The freestyle rack

I arrived in Vassiliki a week before the course was due to start as I had not surfed since last September and wanted to get wet before starting the course. For this I had a stay and play package as I am yet to buy my own equipment (admittedly it is about time I did), which meant I could use the full range of equipment on offer at Club Vass. Vass are one of the only centres around that sell off all their equipment each year and replace it with the latest for the season. This season they had a wide range of Starboard and Fanatic boards coupled with Severne sails. While not bad kit, I was a little apprehensive as I had become rather fond of the RRD/Ezzy setup used at my old club at West Wittering.

Light wind mornings

Riding the tandem

Everyone I had spoken to about Vass had told me of a consistent wind that blows religiously, so on the first day when I got to the centre and the was a light onshore breeze, my shoulders dropped.  Then I heard Jem Hall's words in my head, "Having good light wind technique means having good high wind technique" and picked up a big board and medium sail for some light wind freestyle practice. It was good to get back on a board despite it feeling like a dingy, though it didn't quench the desire to be hurtling along at planing speeds fully committed to the harness. Fortunately after lunch Eric (the name they give the thermal wind there) made a half hearted attempt to show his face. By half hearted I mean 6.0 and gusty, though I had found a 111 RRD Firestorm hiding in a corner and with 6.0 it was enough to get a gleeful smile to appear on my face as I shot past others who had opted for smaller boards. The first week followed a similar pattern with the wind not really filling in to the legendary standards of the tales I had heard, despite this I soon found the Vassiliki ritual of light wind mornings and blasting afternoons. The highlight of the week had to of been trying out a tandem board for the first time, apparently it was a highlight for the spectators on the beach as well and inspired a number of guests to attempt the same feat over the coming weeks.

Blasting in the afternoon

40knts and survival sailing

Week two was something special as about halfway through we had afternoon winds of up to 40knts sometimes gusting more and it was the water sports week in Vass which included putting on a slalom race for all who dared to compete in. I was feeling pretty confident in the higher winds by now so decided to enter the slalom, okay there was a fair share of peer pressure from the flying fish crew. I selected a Fanatic Hawk as my board of choice and a 4.7 sail, I would have gone for the RRD, but in 40knt winds 111l board and my 70kg body would not have played well together. Heading out on to the water all I could think was this is mental, 40knts and a 4.7 normally I would be on a 3.9 or smaller. Despite missing the start flag and starting behind the entire fleet, I had chosen kit well and flew past many of the more experienced sailors, my heart pounding as I struggled to keep the board in the water. Then I hit the first gybe mark and it all went tits up, the wind dropped and I missed my gybe landing in the water. It then took me what seemed like forever to waterstart in the light breeze and I spent the remainder of the race wobbling back to shore while the rest of the fleet had already crossed the finish line. I missed the start of the second race so by the time the 3rd came round I had no energy left, but I needed to prove to myself that I could do this so made it out with the now depleted fleet for one last attempt. The wind had picked up again and I was stacked on my 4.7 so coming round the inside gybe I catapulted myself over the sail and skidded across the water like a dolphin surfing a wave, though despite this I managed to make it around the course and cross the finish line to collapse in a pile on the shore. I had never cared much about slalom before, but after this experience I can certainly see the appeal and the madness... take the biggest sail you can hold on to in the gusts and then add some more, find a board that has footstraps so far outboard that you feel like you are on a trapeze and hang on for dear life, this is what they call survival sailing.



As the weeks moved on and I got more time on the water I moved on to freestyle kit with the 100l Fanatic Skate becoming my board of choice with S1 sails providing a nice balance of power and lightness. With Scott from flyingfish egging me on I found my routine, forward loops on the way out and Vulcans on the way in, well attempting them at least. I found myself struggling to read the chop for my forward loops and my technique needs some work as they look more like cheese-rolls but still I made it further than I have ever before and managed to waterstart out of a couple, which some say means I can claim it, I'm not convinced. When I decided to do the course I never expected to be attempting Vulcans but am so glad I did as the first time I managed to slide I fell in love with windsurfing all over again. I still have a way to go before I land one but hearing that the guys who have stayed out there a few more weeks are now getting them, Í am dying to get back on the water and sliding again.

My Vulcan attempt

Instructor Vulcan

On the whole it was a month and a half of some of the best windsurfing I have experienced and I feel I have improved albeit not as much as I would like. The Flying Fish instructors course, although fairly costly, was a valuable experience and has really made me take serious consideration about living the instructor lifestyle, which if I do, having the Flying Fish name behind my certification will surely be a help. Would I go back? Most likely, the wind was pretty much guaranteed although more gusty than expected and there are plenty of inspirational sailors around to keep you fired up, though I don't think it would be my choice of place to stay, I need waves.

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Escaping the Bubble

27/07/2013

I woke up this morning still shrouded in the haze of last night's Club Vass BBQ and rolled over to enjoy the discovery that I still had ten minutes before my alarm was to go off. Half an hour later the need for a pee saved me from pressing snooze again and just as well as it would have resulted in a morning frenzy which I was not in the state to achieve.

As most travellers, I am sure will attest to, when living out of a backpack you become somewhat of a master of packing and while I am well on my way to achieving this state, I am not quite there yet as this morning would prove. An hour after getting up I was sticky with an alcoholic sweat and had only just finished packing my backpack, I still had my camera bag to sort and had to assess the items I was leaving behind. The idea of breakfast was forgotten. One last glance around the room and a made for the ferry terminal, picking up my pace as I passed the proprietor of the house I was staying in out of fear he would go up to the room and come running after me with all the possessions and food I had left in the room.

I made it to the ferry terminal with plenty of time to spare, annoyed that I hadn't timed it better and had some breakfast. When the ferry arrived I looked at the number of cars wanting to board pondered how they were all going to fit. Some time later I woke up in Kefalonia with people shuffling past me to get off the ferry none the wiser as to how they managed to fit all the cars on board. The plan was to get the bus to the airport, though everyone I had spoken to who had taken it failed to mention that there is only one bus a day and it leaves at 8:30am, it was now 13:00. I sat down with a frappé to contemplate my next steps. The frappé man seemed to take a shining to me, maybe it was the remnants of the guy-liner from the night before, so once I had decided that the only option was to walk and hitch my way to the airport I got him to fill my water bottle and set off up the hill.

The Italians stopped to let me take in the view.

About 1.5km up the hill I was drenched and had almost finished all my water, not to mention the kink in my back from lugging my bags uphill. It was time to try my hand at hitching, not something I have done much of in my time and after the first 20 or so cars I decided that karma would not be on my side as I certainly have not picked up enough hikers in my life. Finally an Italian family stopped and although they could barely fit my luggage and me into their tiny rental they were happy to cart me on to the next main town and even bought me an ice-cream along the way. After bidding them farewell I started to regret my decision to get out at a cross roads instead of at the next town. Plenty of cars passing through but all in the opposite direction to the airport. Finally an empty taxi pulled up, I explained to him that I was trying to get to the airport but had no money to pay for a taxi. He said not to worry he will take me on to the town he was heading to for a pick-up. He dropped me on top of a pass and said it was about 30min walk to the next to town or 2hrs to the airport, I thanked him and stuck out my thumb again. It was 3pm and my flight was at 8pm so I figured the worst case would be walking the town and catching a taxi from there. The worst case didn't happen, again another taxi came past and after the same conversation as before I found myself enjoying the air-conditioning of his Mercedes and heading in the direction of the airport.

Thumb out. 

I tried to give him the 5 euros in my pocket when he dropped me at the terminal but he refused and with a smile wished me luck on the rest of my travels. Now sitting waiting for my flight, I can't help but let my mind wander back to the words of an earlier post, "Just ask."

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The Vassiliki Bubble

27/07/2013

Anyone who has been following my blog for awhile will notice that it has been some time since I made any updates, leaving a couple of months to catch up on. The reason for this gap is that I have found myself in a bubble for the past 7 weeks, though after managing to make an escape I am now using the flight to London to add some colour to those months.

The Fish House

First though let me explain the bubble. When I decided to pack up and start travelling, it wasn't quite without a plan. There was a rough outline which formed around two particular experiences, the first of those was to train as a windsurfing instructor with the faint idea that I might decide it becomes my next career path. That is how I ended up in Vassiliki, Greece on a Flying Fish Course. Taking a rather round about route, I arrived in Vass at the beginning of June to settle in to the fish house. The intention was to stay for 5 weeks, a week of play and the 4 week course; I relished the opportunity to unpack for the first time since April. In my first days there was something I could not put my finger on, I still can't, but I have come to call it the Vassiliki bubble. It is a unique place where everyone who finds themselves under its breeze comes to love and it is not hard to see why, it is all about lifestyle. The thing is that while you are in Vass nothing of the outside world seems to get in, there never seems to be time to contact people at home, news is something that happens in places that exist in the real world and the conversations only ever seem to revolve around what size sail or board you are using or who hooked up with who the night before.

Idyllic beaches, 

Manic mountain biking and

Epic windsurfing, it is not hard to see why people don't want to leave. 

I attribute this bubble to the fact that every week in Vass is the same, people's routines may vary slightly, generally based on how well they can handle the limited hours of sleep, but mine looked something like:

• Sunday - change over day with a slow empty Club Vass, generally a light wind morning session followed by a high wind afternoon session and an attempt at an early night which normally resulted in processing photos till too late an hour. (Most people would be out on the swill on Sunday more than likely at Zeus bar.)
• Monday - Light wind morning session then high wind afternoon.
• Tuesday - Morning cycle followed by either a SUP or light wind session then high wind afternoon. Live music at Wildwind in evening and Zeus bar until the wee hours.
• Wednesday - hangover permitting (almost never) morning cycle followed by light wind session then high wind afternoon.
• Thursday - Morning cycle followed by either a SUP or light wind session then high wind afternoon. (Most others head off to cocktails at Wildwind, which inevitably ends up at Zeus bar, I never made it once).
• Friday - Morning cycle followed by either a SUP or light wind session then high wind afternoon. Evening id time for Club Vass BBQ which goes on to the early hours of the morning.
• Saturday - Day off for most which means recovery, I rarely made it out of bed before lunch, after which I'd stroll down to the beach for a photo session and then energy permitting have a high wind session myself. (A hardy few can always be found at Zeus Bar in the evening)

The infamous Zeus Bar

The only time this routine was broken was for the assessment week where I played it safe and didn't involve myself in evening shenanigans and the morning sessions were replaced with presentations both given and received. Before I knew it 5 weeks were up and I had qualified as a start windsurfing instructor but I had not given any thought as what to do next and as such decided to stay for another two weeks and fell back to the routine.

Light wind mornings. 

Now a month and a half on my body is feeling the toll of too many forward loop attempts and my mind is struggling to recollect the months gone by. It seems like an age has passed since I was finishing off my Africa travels by visiting family and friends in South Africa. The round about route to Greece starting with a 30hr train journey and ending with a 170 euro taxi ride contrasting my most recent travel experience of hitch-hiker friendly taxis. It is increasingly difficult to focus on the past when the second experience is looming closer and is to be coupled with a tenuous route to America, so as I weed out the memories I'll leave you pondering what the next experience might be and throw out a question. Does anyone know of a couch in Bermuda that I might sleep on next week?

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