Authors: Peter Lynn
Date Submitted: August 31, 2003
Article Type: Journal

Here’s a bit of a snigger. Clyde Cook, Volker Hoberg and I were at the Pasir Gudang kite festival in Malaysia last spring. Volker, on his way back to Europe after spending six months with us in New Zealand, had made himself a four-meter pilot kite which was flying on the Thursday of the festival when it was, unfortunately, cut away. Fortunately by a fellow German—–I’m sure you’ll agree that the odd spot of domestic violence is preferable to an international incident.

I was in hot pursuit as it floated over the countryside, but, on puffing up to where it appeared to land, found it missing, err, that is, didn’t find it. Volker was not so happy, especially after having lost a micro-bar kite through incapacity.

Just before starting to pull down and pack on Sunday afternoon, the last day of the festival, we were idly looking at a decorated Parafoil flying quite high directly above our base camp. It had been there all weekend and, on close inspection, looked very like one of our pilots. Out came the binoculars and it was indeed Volker’s missing pilot, now displaying, writ large, the name of a local motorcycle club.

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