One Hell of A Tack
Kitesurfing From Toronto to Burlington and Back
A few days ago, I attempted to kite-surf from Toronto to the Burlington Petro-Canada Pier and back. The plotted distance of the whole trip was 112 kilometers and I hoped to break 150km in total kiting distance. When I left Cherry Beach, the wind was absolutely phenomenal; steady, smooth, and just perfectly strong for my Speed3 15m kite. In a few quick tacks, I was at the bird sanctuary, where I set my westbound course. On this one port tack, I would pass the entire Toronto Island and then head out to Humber Bay. I kept my eyes on a few sailboats in the distance and, as though entering a trance, I kept kiting straight ahead into the blue void. Humber Bay is a huge body of water stretching seven kilometers across but I just didn’t care. I was thrilled by the solitude, wind, water spraying my face, and sun warming my neck. I never wavered or changed my direction. Strangely, the conditions felt so good and reliable that I didn’t feel scared. And there I was; one lone beautiful yellow kite in a sea of blue lightly salted with the white sails of distant boats. I was enjoying every second of this never ending tack even though my legs were screaming for a switch. For 20 kilometers and 55 minutes, I watched the distant shore coming slowly closer and closer until, finally, I reached land again. I was in Port Credit!
When things go well, we post our accomplishments on social media and enjoy “What a gutsy move!” comments. When our endeavors go sideways, it’s usually somebody else who will eagerly post the footage on the net with a “What an idiot!” commentary. When people push their envelopes, there is a fine line between gutsy and stupid. Usually, it is attention to detail that determines the final outcome of both the action itself and the public judgment. Even though I strive to avoid that unforgiving edge, occasionally, I find myself precisely there.
On my way back from Burlington, a massive storm cut me off about 40 kilometers away from my finish line. As I was enjoying the homeward downwind tacks and some occasional jumps, I watched the only cloud in the sky getting darker and darker. The whitecaps were long gone at that point and with the wind getting lighter and lighter, it was just a matter of time before my kite would fall out of the sky and float on the water like a dead fish. In my exhilarated, water-sprayed, and distance-corrupted mind, I thought I was close to shore. To my surprise, it still took me 30 minutes to swim to safety. The water seemed extremely cold for this part of the year and I was chilled to the bone. Even though the water temperature, as I found later, was only 11C (51F), I realized that my chills had originated mostly from fear. The images of distant land were rushing through my memory and the full picture finally hit me like a freight train. This wasn’t a beautiful summer day when a person could enjoy a long swimming session into the sunset. These were spring water temperatures that we normally attempt in full dry-suits, and we treat any offshore distance with huge respect.
I washed out at some forsaken place between Mississauga and Oakville. There was a forest right on the shore through which I had to “bushwhack” to the nearest house and its wonderful backyard. I welcomed myself onto the porch as it looked like the owners were not home. My new refuge had an open backyard all the way to the lake with a spectacular view of Toronto and Lake Ontario. When the storm-hell broke loose, I was sitting in the chair and enjoyed the show. Mother Nature was trying to show me her teeth of raw power saying: “And now it’s my time to play.”
When the rain stopped and I was in the process of wriggling my kite out of the water, a very nice lady from the neighboring house came over with Udon sup, crackers, and water. How sweet! In Canada, people welcome trespassers with food, smile, and offer for help. If this had happened on the US side of this very same lake, I would have possibly been greeted with a bullet in my head!
Eventually it became clear that the wind was not coming back. I packed my wet stuff and walked out to the nearest wedding party to arrange for a taxi. Eighty dollars plus a tip got me back to Cherry Beach. My body ached but my brain smiled.
TRIP STATISTICS ____________________________________________ Plotted trip distance: 112 km Kiting distance achieved: 99.5 km Total time on the water: 4 hours 51 min. Maximum speed: 38.5 km/h Average speed: 21.17 km/h Wind direction: SW Wind speed: 11-16 kts until it died Calories burned: 1945 kcal Recovery time: 18 hours Kite: Flysurfer Speed 3 15m Board: Flyrace Safety Equipment: SPOT Satellite Messenger, PFD, 6/5/4 wet suit, 2l water ____________________________________________