OK, for once I couldn't figure out a title for this one! So if you have any ideas, lemme know!

I got into kiting about ten years ago, when my then-boyfriend gave me a single line kite as a present. A 9' rainbow delta. I had fun - rather tame fun - with it until the day I treed it. When it happened I immediately felt like that poor blockhead Charlie Brown. Only my kite was a half a mile away, all the string having been wound out before it plummeted to the ground. Not only was it a half-mile away, it was in the very top of a tree, and the string had crossed over some power lines. One angry woman right here, yup. I think I gave up on the unpredictability and uncontrollability of one line kites that very day.

Meanwhile, my boyfriend Bob had been flying two-line stunt kites for some time. That looked cool.

Stunt kites are like kites you steer around in the sky - almost like driving a car. Ok, so maybe it's absolutely nothing like driving a car. I mean, a car doesn't usually plunge nosefirst into the ground every few minutes. But with stunt kites, driving is the closest analogy my title-poor brain can come up with. Pull the right string, kite goes right. Pull left, it goes left. I wish someone had told me though that when you keep on pulling one string, the kite spirals around and around in a big circle, basically creating one huge knot.

In time I improved my control of the kite. Our collection expanded somewhat as well. Bob and I used to play this game. One person would fly the kite, and the other would stand on the opposite end of the field, just beyond the range of the string. Then the flyer would send the kite in a horizontal sweep across the field, a daring two to three feet in front of the idio - ah, observer on the other side. It's more dangerous than it sounds. A stunt kite can clock speeds up to 40-50 mph. Great way to lose a nose.

Sometimes, as Bob came running back for his turn, I'd dive-bomb him with the kite. Go into a nosedive and shear off at the last second, just feet above his head. Several times he had to dive to the ground for cover, and I'd scream with laughter as he came up red-faced and covered with grass. It was a great technique to learn, and came in handy many times later. I learned exactly the length, speed, and turning radius of every kite we bought. Then, whenever some idio- uh, innocent bystander got in the way of the kite - never mind that they were standing directly below a rapidly moving object (what, do they think kites are made of tissue paper?) - I'd shout for them to move, so they wouldn't get hurt. If they failed to move, I'd show 'em exactly what I meant. I'd dive bomb the closest victim and they'd quickly get the picture and vacate the area.

One of the coolest experiences of my life was while I was working at a local university. I'd taken my kite to fly during my lunch hour on the green campus lawns. Flying alone is possible, once you learn the techniques to flip a fallen kite with the strings alone. As I was enjoying a gorgeous day with awesome wind, from nowhere appeared a red-tailed hawk. I knew how big this bird was. My kite had a 6'6" wingspan and this predator was easily that big as he soared in close, checking out this invader in its territory. I feared those sharp claws ripping my kite to pieces. But it didn't attack, and we "flew" together for some time until it disappeared.

My first experience flying that particular kite was in New Jersey. The mecca of kite shops outside of Boulder, Colorado, where we normally order our kites through Into The Wind. On vacation with friends, to whom we introduced kite-flying too, we stopped in to make some purchases. It was an awesome weekend for flying. We decided to take our maiden flights on a beach populated only by fisherman. It was so windy, the sand was blowing up off the beach, across ankles and shins, sloughing off layers of skin. That was some wind! It must have been 25-30 mph. And we were just crazy enough to fly in it.

Bob had bought a kite that looks much like a pillow. A two-foot wide, eight-foot long pillow. As it flies it fills with air, giving its shape. It looks like a flying arch. It pulls. Hard. Guys string two or three of these things together to pull buggy carts and sometimes, small boats. One was enough on this particular day. Bob and I liked to make our kites "jump" us. We'd previously tried out this technique in lesser winds. We'd nose-dive the kite, turning it at the last minute to shoot straight up into the sky. At the moment we turned it, in its hardest pulling phase, we'd leap as high into the air as possible. Sometimes the kite would pull us several feet forward. Today, in the 30 mph winds, using a Flexfoil kite with a surface area of over 16 feet, the guys were doing twenty-five foot leaps down the beach, five feet off the ground. That's some wind!

Meanwhile, I'm tring to control a kite not made for such windspeeds. My 6'6" span Prism was yanking me all over the place. Finally I had to kneel down on one foot, and brace the other in front to keep from being pulled over. What I didn't realize however, was my brace position only offered a secure spot when making left turns. The minute I made a right turn, my weight shifted to my unbraced right side, swinging my in a circle and onto my stomach.

When flying a very expensive kite, you don't let go. So I didn't. And the kite proceeded to pull me down the beach on my stomach. By the time I crashed it, I'd gotten a mouthful, as well as a shorts-full of sand.

Awesome!