About this blog
KITES-- The Long Journey home.
Chapter 1 history
The first time I flew a two line kite I was about 16 or 17, my dad got a Peter Powell (a blue plastic diamond with an ally frame sprung at the tip) I flew it a few times but I had other more pressing things on my mined (motor bikes, boos and girls in that order). By the time I got to 18 I dropped the boos as the bike was now a T500 two stroke twin (about 120 125hph) and speed was king (I've never lost the love of bikes just too broken to ride any more).
I then discovered caving and pot holes, becoming totally obsessed with it, to the point of missing out on the pub sessions, this worried some of the club member. the little hard core group managed to get to places visited by only a very few people and on occasions going where no one had gone before. I even took up cave diving (not the type seen on TV the type you have to remove your gear under water to force your way through a squeeze and visibility was less than swimming in a week old pot off billy tea).
This all stopped (the caving) when I moved from Yorkshire to Scotland the caves were just to far away (little did I know). I'd moved to Bridge of Don, Aberdeen and one day whilst riding my mt. bike along the esplanade I spotted 3 guys flying kites, so I pulled over and went to chat, next thing I'm flying a kite (think it was ether a swallow tail or a phantom) instantly I was hooked, the next week I got a skynasour delta (the only thing available). The next time I went down to Yorkshire to visit the folks I popped in to Leeds corn exchange to visit Mark at Leading Edge Kites (home of Fizz and Tim Benson) and came away with a Phantom. From then on more kites came in the mail, visited more shops and started to go to festivals (average 850miles,1300k round trip) and at my first festival I picked up my first buggy.
next instalment may include fling to Wildwood NY USA visits to Oz, love, moving to Oz, marriage, kids and disaster
or it may be a load of old toss. But eventually it will get to flying.
may your winds blow freely
and in the words of Mel I am not a number BBC 065