The handles are coming off. They put the wing too close, it's short of balance with the mono and they take too much resistance.
I wake up at White Strand and start off with the usual fibs. First of course I have to fry water for tea, then a strandwich (half a knife of Nutella in my mouth, a firm bite of bread and rather a too hot swig of tea, then the milling), then a bit of work on the computer and who knows...
And there she is, just like that, and again. Then I get into a fever. Clothes off, (still!) wet trunks on, always the chilliest bit. I have already taken half a five-litre bottle of water from the Holy well. Conditioner in, give it a good shake and next pour it into my suit for a smoother changing. Oh, that olfactory memory, the scent of conditioner takes Dusty out of the shade. Have I got everything? and walk off, gear under my arm, to the stone stretch. That is even slimier than last year. Algae thrive on the persisting emission of waste water. By hand support I feel my way along the stony pier, taking very good care as there are trip stones and potholes everywhere. Then the safe sand and soon rocked by the water, in the arms of gravity.
My toes hurt so much, even through the night, definitely another attack of chilblains and then also under pressure from the mono. Better put them in Arnica again.
The water is surprisingly clear, about a five metre viz. But there is no Dusty waiting for me which is not too bad as I have to try out the humpback wing anyway. Moreover there's a comfort zone under water. Along the right-hand shore I swim as far as the corner.
The humpback way is heavy. The speed is fair, but open to improvement, a lot even. A stroke back to the drawing board. The handles turn out to be wishful reasoning. There is a benefit to length in water, so it may work the other way around with the handles at the rear. Not sure though if my multiceps can pull this. I'll keep it in my planning mind.
I have been in the water now for nearly an hour and as for the wing I know enough. The water temp exceeds my expectation and the waft is mild.
And in a single sudden she is there, as usual behind me and for how long this time? I squeak a lot of exhilarated yelps through my snorkel and she keeps looking at my extravagant wing. Like 'How nice to see you again and what kind of marvel did you bring this time, always a scoop, aye, is that what you spent the winter on, so you did think of me, looks wicked, show me some.' And then I blitz into full power. She swims underneath me and only when I really get tired she undertakes me. And eyes me all over.
The wing does demand a new etiquette. It is a lot wider, 2.23 metres to 1.38 and I have to manoeuvre extra carefully not to touch her. When you have nothing exceptional, you get quite a few flybys, but hardly this time. She keeps hanging around and watches the wing from all angles. Still I get the feeling she is happy to see me again. She's good at that too. These cheers that put a smile on your soul for the rest of the day.
We go on for a little half-hour and not only because I'm knackered, but also so as not to call upon the devil of chills, I leave the water. As of old she swims along until knee-deep and there again it's hard to bid goodbye. After the usual tarrying circles comes the last caress. Generally she always leaves the bay for far away, but now she stays, still in the knee deep shallows. This is such a heartache that I feel like running back into the water. Luckily a guy goes in shortly after, so she has company again.
Right, and now on with the wing like greased lightning.