MY LAST HURRAH

Do you remember the first time you stepped on a windsurfer? Or even saw one? My first experience was in the southwest of France in a small beachside village called Arès, in Arcachon Bay.

- Mark Kasprowicz

We were on a campsite right next to the water's edge and in the next 'emplacement' was an English family. He was a windsurfer and without knowing it he was to alter the whole course of my life. I cannot remember the make of board, but it was something like a Dufour Wing, around 3.7 meters long, non-retracting daggerboard and a five or six square meter rig. When he invited me to have a go I jumped at the chance. So, the following morning in a gentle breeze and beautiful warm waters I sailed away from the shore. I got about 50 meters out without falling off and then thought about getting back. That took rather longer and I did fall in, a lot! But the bay was very shallow and so in the end I pulled it back to the beach on foot and handed it back to its owner. But I could not stop thinking about that maiden trip and next time we were in town I popped into the local newsagents and bought a copy of a French windsurfing magazine - probably 'Wind' or 'Planche a Voile'. Now if you're reading this your story is probably not much different to mine,