If San Francisco did powder days...

I have only had the joy of trying wake boarding twice. The first time went something like this; face plant, bump along behind the roaring motors of the Mastercraft at 16kts, 16kts!? (I can do that going upwind - well just about), face plant. The second was in better conditions, the dawn call for a before work session went out and we headed out onto a glassy calm, mist shrouded Poole harbour. This time I was taken with just how much skimming across the mirror flat water felt like snowboarding on a magical, knee-deep, fresh powder day. As we finished up and turned for home the mist filled in and exactly which direction to turn for home was not entirely apparent. I only now confess and apologise to my then colleagues for my lost-in-the-mist related late arrival at work. Although I'm not quite sure any of them actually believed my car wouldn't start story, especially since they all knew I cycle to work and the wet hair and salt encrusted eyebrows were not entirely consistent with a session under the bonnet and a wait for the RAC. 

Anyway, I am digressing, what does any of this have to do with foiling you may ask. Well, today I had the joy of experiencing the water-doing-it's-best-to-be-fresh-powder thing while foiling. The water was silky smooth and soft, the foils hissed serenely through their own equivalent of the closest San Francisco is likely to get to a powder day. The fog even billowed up behind the hills, adding to the illusion of snow capped mountains. This is the Bay we are talking about though, the thermal built, the ebb kicked in and from nowhere a hard packed mogul field appeared to delight my weary legs on the way home.