Who Said Light Wind Days Are Boring?

I honestly don't get it.

Some of the best moments on this trip didn't happen in perfect, overpowered conditions — they happened on those slower days, when the water turns into a mirror and you have space to just play around. No pressure, no expectations. Just wind, water, and whatever ideas come to mind.

We were still in Sicily, still living out of the van, still moving from spot to spot. The night before, we tried to change locations — and somehow got completely lost. At some point, we just stopped trying to figure it out and stayed where we were. Waking up the next morning, it felt like the best wrong decision we could have made. The van was parked right by the water, the sunrise was unreal, and everything was completely quiet. Those are the moments that make this kind of travel so addictive — when you end up somewhere you never planned to be, and it turns out better than anything you could have organized.

With the Sirocco in the forecast, we were pretty motivated to get going. It was our last chance for a proper session in Sicily, and instead of going back to the lagoon, we wanted to try something new. The spot looked promising, the wind felt like it could work... so we rigged, launched, and got on the water.

And then, about three minutes later, it was over.

The wind just disappeared. Completely. One of those sessions where you're not even sure if it really happened. I think my highlight was a slightly questionable backmobe — and that's about it. But that's part of it. Not every day delivers. Sometimes you drive, set everything up, and pack it all down again almost immediately.

After about a week on the island, it felt like the right moment to move on anyway. Sicily had been amazing — a few really good Sirocco days, new spots, warm water, and that feeling of exploring something new again. But the forecast wasn't looking great anymore, and there was wind somewhere else.

So we booked the ferry and headed to Sardinia.

Nine hours crossing, arriving late at night, parking somewhere random once again. Same routine, different island.

The next morning started exactly how you would expect a Sirocco day to begin: no wind at all. Not even a hint. But instead of getting frustrated, it felt like the perfect chance to go back to the foil and keep working on paddle-ups.

It's one of those things that looks way easier than it actually is. You feel the board lifting, you're right there... and then you're not. Over and over again. My progress so far? Let's call it slow — but at least it's happening. And that's enough to keep going.

At some point, it felt right to switch back to my twintip. It was around 14 knots, and I was riding my Carved Imperator 139. Most people dislike those kinds of days — I love them. No pressure, no expectations — just riding. And that's exactly when it clicked again, and I started landing a few new tricks.

Light wind days give you space. Space to try things, to slow down, to actually enjoy the session without chasing anything.

Later that day, we moved further north on the island. I won't say too much about the exact spot — some places are better kept a bit quiet — but everything lined up perfectly. The next morning, the water was completely calm again. And then, almost like clockwork, the wind kicked in.

From nothing to a solid 25 knots.

Those are the moments that make all the effort worth it. I rigged my 12m Pace, got on the water, and everything just worked. Two hours of riding, fully powered, not thinking about anything except trying new, creative tricks.

By the time I got off the water, I was completely out of energy — and made the classic mistake of going grocery shopping while absolutely starving. I somehow ended up in the bakery section and completely lost control.

It was the perfect way to end this part of the trip — because now it's time to move on. This time, towards northern Spain.