I was chatting to my wife about my most recent sailing session at Dronkies the other day. She understands that I really enjoy my sailing but I don’t think she fully appreciates why. It’s quite simple really – this enjoyment is derived from having experienced the “plane”. It’s not really about how strong the wind blows or how gnarly the conditions are. It’s simply about having experienced the freedom of release derived from getting a windsurfing board onto the plane and being able to move faster than the wind ! It results in an innate desire for more – a fix !

For the sake of further discussion, let’s call this a passion. It’s a passion borne from having experienced the sensation of skipping effortlessly across the water, driven solely by the wind and your own ability. It’s about harnessing nature’s force with the knowledge that you are in control (most of the time, anyway). It causes me to want (no, need) more. I guess that the sensation of sailing faster than the wind could be compared to the euphoria experienced through freefalling or surfing - it’s a temporary release from all those worldly things that so clutter our lives. It’s a necessity in this dog-eat-dog world of ours.

Let me try to put this passion into perspective using a typical “windy” September day at Bronkies as an example. Try to imagine yourself in this situation - it’s been several weeks since the last session. You’ve been anxiously watching the forecasts on WindGuru and the synoptic charts hoping to see the ragged teeth of a front approaching Cape Town. And so it is. The front has arrived, its north-west winds sweeping over the hot arid hinterland of southern Africa. By the time you arrive at the dam, it’s already gusting a warm 10 to 15 knots. There’s a crew of 6 locals already rigging.

Equipment varies from 9 sq.m to 7 sq.m sails, a mix of formula, slalom and freeride boards. Large fins are selected for extra lift and drive. Rigging takes place to the sound of sailing related banter and friendly insults directed at each others’ equipment. Once rigged, you step through the mud and weed, trying to avoid stepping on the spawning barbel. As you wade in, you look out over the water for the first tell-tale flurry of movement on the water indicating that a gust is on its way. You hop onto your board and wobble out to meet the approaching wind. Here it comes ! The gust’s power fills the sail and accelerates the board. You place your foot in the front strap, keeping the nose pointed off the wind. The gust increases in strength, the pull of the sail on your arms is increasing, you feel your board urged forward and, suddenly, it hops onto the plane. The magic moment has arrived ! Back foot in the strap, hook in. You release your first whoop of euphoria as the wind drives you along. There’s that beautiful sound of composite laminate slapping water. The pent-up frustration of weeks of weather watching disintegrates in a flurry of spray and energy. You’re flying – you’re blasting across the water, spray stinging your ankles, shouting in wild enthusiasm as you race along with a couple of like-minded individuals, all getting off on the same high. You enter your first gybe, ecstatic as you realise that, like riding a bike, you have not forgotten the basics. Knees bent, body taught driving the board around on its rail, anticipating the right time to flip the sail. What a feeling - aceing that carve gybe and planing out the other side feeling like the man. You blast across the chop, scrunching your eyes to dim out the silver and gold reflections of the sun. You pull off an elegant chop hop across the bows of a hoby cat (or the local booze cruise barge, feeling much freer than they ever will).

3 hours later, your body is tired (remember, it only experiences something like this once every few weeks) and your hands are red from fighting those gusts. Everyone is milling around conducting post-session analyses. You feel liberated. Your hands dip into the cooler box to grab an ice cold frostie, and you revel in that exquisite pain as the icy bottle begins to sooth sensitive hands. As the sun starts to set, you are engulfed by the camaraderie sustained in the knowledge that you are part of this unique group of people. Yup, you may have only got 15 gusty knots of wind and it may only be a dam with brown water, mud and catfish. But you’ve experienced something that too few people ever will. You’ve just experienced a couple of hours of true freedom. You’ve taken what little wind was on offer and squeezed every ounce of enjoyment out of it – you were in control, you have obtained release! You’ve intimately felt the thrill of planing. It’s unbeatable. Yes indeed, that three week wait for wind has been worth it.

This explains why, at the first hint of rustling leaves in the back yard at home, everything I am doing at the time suddenly becomes an irrelevance. There is only one goal. The level of adrenalin suddenly surges, the hope soars – is it really going to blow ? The body and mind stumble over each other - where did I put that bloody wetsuit ? Where are the roof racks and straps ? Equipment is urgently gathered and unceremoniously flung into and onto the car. Thank heavens I put petrol in last night, don’t have time to waste – I’ll mow the lawn tomorrow ! Excited phone calls are made, enthusiasm is whipped up in the hope and belief that, for the first time in weeks, we will be planing again!! Several vehicles converge on the dam.

The 80 km trip to Bronkies feels like hours (but is actually a blur), the slow moving mini busses and trucks are an irritation (obviously non sailors). Fast is not fast enough. Cresting the hill you get the first view of the patterns formed by the wind squalls on the water. Excitement increases as a board is seen skipping across the dam surface. You pull a handbrake stop amid billowing clouds of dust a mere 5 meters from the water. The drone of the car’s engine is replaced with the sound of the wind swishing through the grass, the clinking of Hoby rigging against masts and the tight clattering sound of a board fast approaching across the water. There it is - that odd sensation in one’s stomach telling you that the mind has suddenly realised that the wind is stronger than originally envisaged. What sail to use – 8 or 7, what fin, rather use a bigger sail and smaller fin, rig full or flat ? What ? Julian is on his 9 sq.m but Peter is on his 7!!? Is it gusty ? Finally, all rigged and out into the water, you feel the sudden liberation from weeks of traffic, office politics, general daily nonsense and inactivity.

The point I’m trying to make is that you don’t need consistent 25 knots at sea level to enjoy yourself sailing. Never before has windsurfing been so user friendly (except possibly from a cost point of view) – big floaty boards and large sails with one helluva wind range mean that 12 knots is all one needs to plane.

We are lucky to have a core group of seasoned regulars at Dronkies - we egg each other on. We enjoy not only the sailing but the social aspect, the camaraderie of a common goal and enjoyment. We are there for ourselves and each other. What better way to get exercise. We are an exclusive club of very privileged individuals who have experienced something totally unique and exciting. We have all experienced the thrill of planing.

So there you have it – planing.
It’s what we do.
It’s what drives us.
It’s just being out there.

Come and experience it...