September 6th: Wing Board (5.3m3 + Wing-specific board)

Today, it's a school session at the beach again.
A few clouds drift in the sky, and the sea surface sparkles.
And today, at last, there's wind.
It's light, but a steady 3-4m/s,
with occasional gusts reaching 6-7m/s.
"Today looks promising," I thought, and my chest felt a little warm.

As September began, the restrictions on the bathing area finally ended.
The sea became a little calmer, and free routes returned.
That said, the line of yellow buoys still remained, and avoiding them was a small pressure.
Even so, with today's wind, I felt like I could make it.

The wind is slightly angled onshore.
As always, I go offshore on the starboard side, and return to land on the port side.
If I can't head upwind,
I have to walk back upwind along the sandy beach.
Last week was a repeat of that.
But today is different.

Just having wind makes everything light.
I don't feel the weight of the Wing.
I recall my instructor's advice—
"Stand the mast up, and make sure your front and back hands are at 45 degrees."
As I take that posture, the board glides forward smoothly.

When a gust comes, I shift my weight slightly to the windward rail,
and let the board bear off to catch the wind.
For a jibe, I temporarily put the Wing in neutral,
and forcefully change direction.
It's an awkward movement, but it's fine as long as I don't fall.
Changing direction repeatedly, I head offshore, offshore.
Before I knew it, the yellow buoy was getting smaller and smaller.

At first, that buoy I was so concerned about.
That "world beyond the ropes" I was so afraid of.
Now, all of that has become a distant landscape.
I can now sail freely upwind.

Above the sea, my instructor's voice reached me.
"You'll be fine on your own now!"
The moment I heard those words,
my chest warmed, and a smile unconsciously spread across my face.
I know best how much meaning those simple words held.

Today was a day where I clearly felt "I've achieved it."
Those days of falling repeatedly, of regretting and shedding tears,
were finally rewarded.
As I rode above the sea,
the sound of the wind seemed to pierce my ears like a blessing.

The beach huts are being dismantled. "Summer grasses, all that remains of dreams," isn't it? It's still warm, or rather hot, so many people are coming to the sea.