For the first time this year, we dragged ourselves to the beach in Les Hemmes, France in the early days of July. It has been a hectic spring, with moving ourselves and friends, going to Finland and such, that we actually did not manage to catch a coef before this July. My dear.
It was such a nice feeling to get a taste of the sea breeze after the hot, suffocating city air. Though the sun had turned some of our friends already into lobsters, as they were making their way into happy tipsiness. Waffle attacked our load, and built the buggies ready for the following day.
Soon enough the hippie feels of the true Les Hemmes lured Waffle too among the rest of us. Guitars were brought out. Some songs with non-printable lyrics were sang until the beer quota for the night had been dealt with. All of us headed to our own abodes to sleep for the night. The wind next day was promised to be steady and mild.
I had not been driving a buggy for 2 years, ever since my wrist broke, by a freak accident caused by unseen moment of stupidity. Partially because of the pain, partially because I am a chicken with things related to getting back to saddle. Calm steady wind was good news to me! (The scared chicken side of me did not agree).
The morning came, Waffle and I made it a late one in our extremely comfy trailer. Everybody else in their tents or cars were up well before us. We ended up exploiting the situation, since the early birds had the coffee and breakfast ready and we just hopped from bed to table. Feel slightly bad about it.
Soon enough I had to face the realities and drag my buggy onto the sand. The beach was as close to perfect as it ever gets. The water had been minding its own business down in the sea for quite a while, so the beach was dry, smooth and firm. Buggy people were understandably very excited and most of them swooshed away with the wind in nanoseconds.
The wind wasn’t too brutal. Quite some of the people were dragging out their absolute biggest sails. To me Waffle dag out the 4 meter, as I was insisting I would definitely, absolutely not drive a 5. I was fairly scared while pulling up the harness and pressing down the helmet. My hands were shaking. At that moment I knew I was not gonna chicken out, I was gonna drive.
I soon had the kite hanging up in the air, and my butt wavering over the seat of the buggy. And surprisingly I was driving. I managed to figure out the direction of the wind and was off. It was such a leap over my barrier of fear, that I broke into tears.
I was heading to the seaside, and at some point I realized there was no recollection in my head of how to turn around. Which was kind of a problem, since I was approaching the sea at some speed. Thankfully the nature has given us something called muscle memory, which kicked in and I managed to safe myself from drowning, and headed for the dune again. Then I still had the task to figure out stopping. I managed, I didn’t kill anyone and didn’t hit a dune. I would call that a raging success!
As I had gotten the feels for it, I kept going to do some lines just to have it sinking in, getting myself feeling secure in driving again. And of course enjoying the wind and the smooth beach. Two years it took for me to get back to this point.
It was definitely a great feeling to get back into the buggy. Such a barrier I had built between me and driving. Now the easy wind and good wide beach made me confident enough to climb over it. I was proud of myself. Waffle was proud of me, running and shouting all over the beach like a mad man. Such a happy day!
The wind was dying towards the evening so we got our excuse to leave the beach and hit the roads before traffic jams. Monday would be a working day again so getting home at a humane hour was a good idea.