…but suddenly, just like that, I’ve logged two beach sessions over two consecutive weekends. And honestly… YESSSS!

Last weekend looked promising on paper: a light breeze rolling in from the fjord, sunshine, and decent temperatures. The sun showed up right on cue, and the air felt kind enough—but the wind? Nowhere to be found. At least not at first.

So I waited.

There’s something special about waiting for wind. Sitting there, feeling the warmth of the sun, scanning the water, noticing the smallest ripples. And then—almost imperceptibly—you feel it. A faint breath of air brushing across your face. A sign.

That was all I needed.

Up went Zaephay, my own custom-built ultralight kite. It’s designed specifically for moments like this—when the wind barely exists, yet somehow still carries just enough energy to keep a kite alive in the sky.

And what followed wasn’t quite “flying” in the traditional sense.

It was something quieter. More delicate.

Guiding.

In these near-zero wind conditions, every movement matters. You don’t command the kite—you suggest. You work with the air, not against it. Catching the smallest whispers of wind, letting the kite glide on an invisible layer, responding with the lightest touch on the lines. Too much input, and you lose it. Too little, and it fades.

It becomes a conversation.

A balance.

A kind of flow that’s hard to describe—and even harder to forget.

Honestly, it might be the closest thing to Zen I’ve experienced with a kite.

Slowly, almost unnoticed, the wind began to build. What started as gentle guidance evolved into actual flying. The kite responded with more energy, more presence—and so did I.

Even after a long break, it all came back. The timing. The control. The instinct.

I hadn’t forgotten.

Not even close.

It turned into a heartfelt reunion with kite flying—one of those sessions that reminds you exactly why you keep coming back, again and again.

And yes… I captured it all on video.

Because moments like these deserve to be remembered.