Kite Surfers off Old Harry

I have always wondered what it would be like to be fearless, to leap upon a brave horse, to climb without ropes up a dizzying cliff - I hated all sports as a boy - I was nervous when I shivered inside the changing rooms at school -

Worlds later, I have lost all my self consciousness - you could not be shy when you were in the Endoscopy Suite - I saw startling sights whilst I waited for the nurse to fit my cannula - I never could work out how to securely fasten the ties of my flimsy gown -

I have learned to ride - I have fooled about with a surf board - I've had to strip off my wet suit on a freezing beach - I've swum naked off Jane and Ken's yacht in the Sea of Marmara -

But, I think, to go Kite Surfing - that would be a real test of skill and nerve - I saw this Kite Surfer off Middle Beach, one dazzling and icy November afternoon -

I saw the dark sail first, a taut crescent in the bright air - a few hundred yards away from the chalk stacks of Old Harry - it was low tide, and you could see a small cave, piercing the first stack -

Then I saw a fan of spray, made by the zig zagging surf board - then the figure of the kite surfer, slim and tensed upon the board - tugging invisible wires, directing the sail -

I stood upon the ribbed sand, with Anne, looking at the progress of the kite surfer across the bay - I could imagine, just, how it might feel - your skin stung with salt - your body like that of a swooping bird - all clever thought gone, save that of how best to race over the white horses,how to capture the capricious winds -